coming into the home stretch.

The longer this pregnancy progresses, the worse I am about writing updates. I suck. I super suck. There's so much I want to say - need to say - and to be honest, I can't even claim carpal tunnel pain anymore because the cortisone injections that the nice orthopedic doctor gave me a few weeks back have made a world of difference.

So.

Here's the quick and dirty update:

I'm officially being induced on Sunday, 11/15, at 9 p.m. We'll start with a Foley catheter that night; they said it should fall out by morning, when they'll start pushing pitocin. (Guess who's got two thumbs and is definitely getting an epidural?)

We're inducing because of the myriad of medical issues I've battled this pregnancy. That, and because apparently the Jellybean has a pretty big head. This, coupled with my somewhat narrow pelvis (who knew?), means that I might not be able to squeeze the kid out my vag. Dr. Direct has been really clear that if the baby's head doesn't descend, I'll be converted to a c-section. I'm maintaining the position I've had all along: I don't care how he's born, as long as he comes out healthy.

As for me:

I'm good. Mostly good. I still have some numbness and stiffness in my hands, and sleep has been harder to come by. I tend to wake up in the middle of the night and then stay awake for an hour or two before crashing again - my body getting ready for the baby? But overall, the third trimester has been a cake walk compared to the hell I went through in the second.

People keep asking me if I'm ready. I am and I'm not. We were so convinced that baby boy was coming early that I got a ton of stuff squared away weeks ago - made a month's worth of freezer meals, got the car seat base installed at the DMV, ordered my breast pump, created my maternity leave plan for work, etc. I haven't packed my labor bag yet but everything's in a box waiting to be Tetris'd into my duffle.

But that's just stuff. Stuff is easy, relatively speaking. Emotionally, I think I'm ready, but there are times when I realize that in less than two weeks there's going to be a tiny human living in my house. A tiny human that I am responsible for. I AM HAVING A BABY. Holy fuck balls.

So, that's where I am. Holding steady. Looking forward to meeting our little dude and simultaneously fearing that I will somehow break him in the first 48 hours of his life. That's normal, right?

31w0d.

Baby's size: Pineapple or coconut (so, making a pina colada in there?)

Next appointment: 10/1

Total weight gain: 55.6 lbs. Holding steady-ish.

Exercise: Still moving pretty well. Mr. Hope and I are joining the Y this weekend so I hope to be logging some pool time soon.

Sleep: Has been disrupted this week due to intense carpal tunnel pain. Like, the kind that makes you sob (and no, I'm not being a drama queen). Relief is on the way, though - I'm getting cortisone shots in my wrists on Monday.

Food cravings: Cheese and crunchy things.

Symptoms: Heartburn is making a comeback! Maybe this means the Jellybean will be born with a nice head o' hair?

What I'm loving: My husband. He's been such a great source of support and really stepping up his game around the house.

What I'm not loving: Pain. Discomfort. The fact that I've been unable to enjoy the majority of my pregnancy. I got robbed, yo.

What I'm looking forward to: Is it too early to say giving birth? Or, more accurately, evicting the Jellybean from my uterus?

Best moment this week: It's selfish but getting the call today that an ortho would be willing to treat the carpal tunnel. On Tuesday Dr. Direct said that the shots would help and be safe for baby, but good luck finding a doctor who'll touch a pregnant woman. But then I did. When the nurse told me they could get me in Monday I almost cried.

blogiversary.

Today marks one year since I started this blog.

It's kind of crazy to me just how much my life has changed in the past 365 days. I mean, I went from being this barren, bitter infertile to an expectant mother nearing her 31st week of pregnancy. After 4+ years of TTC, I'm finally (!) about to become a parent.

After such an epic journey, why do I still feel woefully underprepared?

Maybe it's because I'm about 5-9 weeks away from delivering and still do not have the nursery put together. Or maybe it's because I'm about 5-9 weeks from delivering and I haven't written out my birth plan, packed my hospital bag, met with the estate attorney, or any of the 500 other things I wanted to do before the Jellybean arrived.

The baby will come. He will come no matter how much stuff I have or haven't done. I know this. I know that Mr. Hope and I will be enough. Even if nothing is organized. Even if the crib still doesn't have a mattress.

We will love him and care for him. That is what he really needs.

Even though my BP is holding steady and my weight is down and my blood sugars are gorgeous and there is not even a spec of protein in my urine, today Dr. Direct informed me that if I do not go into labor prior to 37 weeks, or require an intervention before then, this is when she'd like to induce. I am not sure how I feel about this. Induction requires pitocin, most likely, which requires a constant IV drip (more fluids, yay!).

But also:

Shouldn't we wait until Jellybean is ready to be born?

I asked her about the delayed cord clamping today. She said if the baby is full term, delayed cord clamping is not recommended because it causes some disorder, the name of which I cannot remember. But I've read it's recommended no matter what the age of the baby. Who do I trust? Dr. Direct? Dr. Google?

So many questions. So few answers.

It's a little maddening, I tell you what.

I have about five blog posts started but not completed. Post about my surprise shower, about my meeting with the lactation consult they call the Breast Whisperer (no, I am not making that up), about Mr. Hope's and my first birth class, about the excruciating pain my hands are currently in.

All in due time.

For now I will say this:

It's been a year, and I would rather be where I am right in this moment in time - even in pain, even in uncertainty, even in mild fear - than where I was when I started this blog.

I'm grateful for the journey, but so so so excited about the destination.

the finger sticks begin.

On Friday, I went in for glucose meter training. Technically, I already knew how to use a glucose meter, since I had Type II diabetes for a couple of years before losing the weight and sending it into remission, but I thought I'd get the meter itself at the appointment. I did not. That got called into the pharmacy. And the nurse training me got very suspicious when she handed me the meter to try myself and I asked for an alcohol swab.

"You look like you've done this before," she said.

I smiled and nodded.

I don't talk to a lot of people about how I used to be diabetic. It's not something I'm proud of. And when I did have it, early medical interventions made things way worse; the first doctor to put me on insulin kept jacking up the dosage even after I didn't respond well, and I ended up putting on something like 40 lbs. in a single month. And even then, my sugars didn't get under control until I was put on a medicine that basically talked to my liver and told it to stop pumping out insulin.

I also don't talk a lot about my gastric bypass surgery, which I had almost 7 years ago. I don't talk about it because when I had it, I was at an all-time high weight that was the equivalent of four top-of-the-pyramid cheerleaders. To be fair, nearly 70 lbs. of that came from the insulin and fluid retention, but still. It was a dark time in my life and one I don't care to revisit. Plus, I never lost all of the weight after my surgery. I lost nearly 200 lbs.,  but that still put me at close to 100 lbs. over where the height-weight charts wanted me to be, and about 35 lbs. over my personal weight-loss goal.

When you still look like a fat girl and you tell people you've had gastric bypass, they either assume that you were unsuccessful at it or that you're one of the sad folks who's gained all of their weight back. Prior to this pregnancy, I did have some regain from time to time. but I always nipped it before it got too bad and took the weight back off. This is one of the main reasons the massive gain from Jellybean has me so unhinged. I'm terrified the weight won't come off again, And all of the health problems I had pre-surgery loss, they're all coming back - the apena, the edema, the sciatic lower back pain, the shooting numbness in one or both legs, etc.

Except, I think, for the diabetes. This is one pregnancy nasty I may have been able to avoid.

My very first stick - the one that made the nurse suspicious - was 114. "That's really good!" she remarked, shocked that my blood wasn't made of taffy. I left the training feeling unexpectedly chuffed. I was going to be fine! No gestational diabetes for me!

And then, that night, my post-dinner reading was 140 - 10 over where they like to see it. There had been a touch of cornstarch in the sauce we made, and I had about 1/3 cup of brown rice. A friend who has Type II told me she can't tolerate brown rice even medicated, that it always spikes her sugars, so I made a note on my log and moved on.

The next morning, my fasting bgl was 96 - about 7 higher than it should be. I'd indulged in a small piece of chocolate cake for a late-night dessert, and figured that was the culprit. Again, I made a note and moved on.

And then something surprising happened - my post-meal readings for the day were all stellar. After a lunch of spaghetti squash chow mein and grilled chicken, I clocked in at 78 - close to low! Last night's pre-bed snack consisted of a piece of Ezekial toast with natural PB and a small sliced banana. The fasting reading today? 89. And that's with the banana!

So while I'll likely have to pay attention to what I'm eating, and skip as much refined sugar as possible, it looks like my bgl is going to behave through diet modification alone. Of course, I need to track my finger sticks for two full weeks before someone will make that assessment, but still. Early data is promising.

Since that's the case, I think I'm going to experiment a little with foods to see what does/doesn't spike my sugar. I'm making some oat bran with blueberries and almonds for breakfast, just to see what that does. Yesterday I had a whole wheat English muffin with egg and cheese (homemade) and my post-meal reading was 114, which was well within the good limits. So we'll see.

I've been so terrified that I'm going to get pre-eclampsia that in my head I already have it. But this? This makes me wonder if maybe I'll somehow avoid it. When I checked my BP last night it was 122/78 - perfectly normal. Is it possible that I will get through the rest of this pregnancy without any major medical meltdowns?

I sure hope so.

edema, apnea, and other fun things.

It's been almost a month since I last updated. I'm sorry about that, especially since so many of you have emailed and left comments to check up on me. You're so sweet and I'm a complete toad. Again: apologies.

First things first: I'm barely okay(ish), but Jellybean is perfect. And that's what matters most. To me, anyway.

I fell off the blogosphere for a bunch of reasons, but here are the main ones:

• I was working a lot of extra hours to get ready for a weeklong business trip.
• I wasn't sleeping well, and therefore unable to get up early enough to do any AM writing.
• I was also so exhausted that I wasn't up to PM writing, either.
• I felt like all I was doing was complaining, and who wants to read that shiz?
• I left for the weeklong business trip, and it almost broke me.

But now I'm home, and I've really missed blogging. So, here's me attempting to get back into the swing of things.

The last time I updated I mentioned that I'd been snoring again and was terrified I'd developed sleep apnea again. I haven't had it in almost eight years, but I remember how awful it was. The not sleeping. The trying to sleep sitting up. The walking exhaustion. The diagnosis and treatment. The breathing machine they make you wear. Etc.

I went from only being able to sleep in bed a couple hours at a time to not being able to fall asleep in bed at all - sleeping exclusively on the couch, sitting up, in front of the TV. And I knew. I just knew that the apnea was back. It made a lot of sense - why my BP had gone crazy, why my weight was shooting up so quickly, why the swelling in my appendages seemed so much worse than normal pregnancy stuff.

I talked to Dr. Direct about this, and she told me to make an appointment with my primary to order the sleep study. It took almost a week to get that appointment. Then, it took another week to schedule the study itself. And even then, they initially told me they couldn't get me in until the end of August, at which point I played the pregnancy card and told anyone who would listen that I'd had a previous loss and I was terrified of losing this baby, too.

It worked. Turns out no one likes you insinuating that their lack of action could result in a loss of pregnancy. I got the sleep study for two days before I left for my business trip, and the apnea was bad enough that they titrated me that night. I spent the bulk of the next day crying to anyone who'd listen that I was about to get on a plane and needed my CPAP immediately so that I didn't lose my baby. It worked again; by 6:30 p.m., I was getting a lesson on how to use the new machine.

That first night, I wrestled with it. See, the way the CPAP works is by forcing air into you, so that you don't stop breathing in your sleep. I have to wear a full-face mask, too, because pregnancy has given me so much nasal congestion that the nose mask made me outright choke. So I've got this thing over my nose and mouth, and it's forcing air into me, and I feel overwhelmingly claustrophobic, like if I don't rip it off my face right that second, I'm going to die.

I think I made it 90 minutes with the mask.

On the trip, I continued to wrestle with the machine. One night I managed to get about four hours in, divided. But I couldn't just fall asleep with it on, stay asleep 7 hours, and wake up refreshed. There were a couple of nights I didn't even bother using it, but the last day of the trip I was like a zombie, so I went back to my hotel and took a 2.5 hour nap with the mask. When I woke up feeling human, I capitulated: I needed the machine, and I needed to get over my CPAP anxiety ASAP.

But then a new thing developed, and it's this: If I sleep on my left side for more than 45 minutes, my arm falls asleep. My hand goes numb. And then I wake up with pain shooting down my arm. So now, even though I'm finally getting used to the mask, I still can't stay in it long because I wake up in so much pain. Mr. Hope and I decided tonight that we'd set it up in the living room and I'd use the mask sitting up on the couch, so that I'd get quality sleep that was mostly pain-free.

Yep. This is what it's come to.

Can we talk about my hands and arms for a sec? Previously I'd reported carpal tunnel in both arms. This is still present, though the pain in my arms/wrists isn't as pronounced. No, now the problem is that my hands are swollen beyond belief. My fingers are like fat sausages. It's all fluid, too. They are so sore and stiff in the mornings that I can't even make a fist. Throughout the day they grown numb whenever I use them too much. It doesn't matter how much water I pound, I can't find relief for the hands. Not fully, anyway.

If I am on my feet for any significant amount of time, my feet and ankles swell. They look like Hobbit feet. I have pitting edema in both calves. But my favorite is the edema in my stomach. And no, that's not a typo. The lower portion of my stomach, which many plus-size women refer to as their apron, is hard with edema. The skin is so stretched that the pores are enormous. It feels leathery and looks like orange rind. And there's so much fluid collected there that my belly swings like I have weighted balls implanted, one on either side of my belly button.

The apron weight has started pulling on my back, and so now I'm getting twinges and numbness and shooting pains down my legs from time to time. I don't walk anymore so much as waddle. And I get breathless quite easily. So, really, most of the time I don't even look pregnant. I just look like a super-fat version of myself.

I look a lot like the me I was before I lost nearly 200 lbs., and it's totally fucking with my head.

When people ask me how I'm doing, I give them the real answer, which they don't really want. I will say, "As long as I get a healthy baby at the end of this, I can handle anything for a few more months." And it's true. I can.

But.

I am miserable a lot of the time, physically and emotionally. My self-esteem is in the toilet. There have been a couple of incidences of people being not-so-nice to me that have hurt me deeply. I hate the way I look in everything. I dread leaving the house. Etc.

On the plus side, Jellybean is, as I said earlier, perfect. We had our anatomy scan a week before I left on the trip. They couldn't get every shot they wanted (more on this later), but what they saw was exactly as it should be. The relief in knowing that my many ailments wasn't harming him in the least was so overwhelming I almost cried right there on the table.

I have a few days off and I hope to write a few more posts that have been percolating in my brain. Like about the anatomy scan, and how right up until the ultrasound tech pointed out Jellybean's penis, I was still - STILL - hoping there was a girl growing inside of me. I want to write about the torture and mental gymnastics involved in building my baby registry. About my crunchy granola chiropractor whom I love, and the mean girl co-worker whom I now loathe.

And I think I want to retroactively fill in my weekly updates, since I've found those useful in documenting this pregnancy. And I do want to document it, as miserable as I am, because hopefully when all is said and done I'll be holding a fat, happy baby in my numb arms. His life will be something to celebrate, no matter how traumatic his gestation was for his poor, unlucky mama.