Thursday, February 9, 2012

Mommie Dearest


I wanted to be a mother from the moment I knew I was capable of loving another being. I wanted to be pregnant, feel a baby kick my insides and rock a tiny infant to sleep in my arms. Babies were always in my plan. The movie Steel Magnolias gave me {and many others} warped senses of what it might be like. Kidney failure? Death? Uhhhhhhhhh...... 
Dr. C and I began our journey to become pregnant down an extremely bumpy ass road. Infertility sucks. Way more than diabetes. Trust me. Being told you are unable to become pregnant is one of the single most ultimate feelings of failure a woman could ever experience. The black cloud that moved in over my being was palpable. Yet we pushed on. IVF was no walk in the park, but it worked for us. The huge needles {in the ass} daily. The blood draws 3 times a week, the vagina pills and the weekly ultrasounds. The oversized sized ovaries and whack hormone swings. It was all worth it to see that positive pregnancy test. My life hasn't been the same since.
Pregnancy + Type 1 diabetes = a mofo pain in the ass. Glucose swings and heart burn. Extra Dr appointments and warnings of increased chances of birth defects. Preeclampsia and a numb tongue and lips when my sugar was low. It was not a glowing time in my life. But I did it. For Jack. He was the reason I checked my sugars 20 times a day. He's the reason I bolused 4 times during a meal, to mimic the phases of a working pancreas. HE was the reason my A1c was 4.7%. It was not easy, and walking around with a constant sugar of 65 is not fun. I would be unloading the dishwasher, see stars, and check, only to discover my sugar was in the 20s. It was a fine line I constantly hovered over, always tempting severe hypoglycemia with my excessive insulin habit. My perinatologist constantly urged that I eat more and bolus less. Pssshhhaaaa. What do Drs know {ALWAYS listen to your doctors, y'all}?
Holding my sons in the hospital for the first time is a high that no drug could ever mimic. My preemie boys were both healthy, and didn't require dextrose drips or oxygen masks. I did that. I made that happen. My diligence and research and responsible diabetes management had been rewarded with the {healthy} loves of my life. Jack & Ben. 
This last week I followed through with something that Dr C and I had decided to do before our boys were even conceived: we had the boy's blood drawn through the Type 1 Diabetes TrialNet. Their blood samples will be added to the Natural History screening study for relatives of type 1 diabetics. This sample will prove as a predictor of the boy's risk for developing type 1. I cried and cried before, during and after their blood draws. No mother wants to see their child in distress. Jack, my 4 year old was a champ. He was so brave and watched the entire process with wonder. Ben, my 20 month old {and red head of the bunch} did not appreciate being violated. It required two adults and a phlebotomist to restrain his tiny ass. It truly was a moment of blood, sweat and tears. And now: we wait. Up to 5 weeks before results. 5 weeks. Mofo eternity, yo.
What will I do if one or both predict a future diagnosis? Honestly, I'll cross that bridge when we get to it. But Who better? Who better to care for a child with type 1? Two parents with over 40 years experience, that's who. So, I am trying to be the best mom I can be, and trying not to think about it as much as possible {yeah right, not enough meds in Texas to stop that from happening!}.
So thanks for the thoughts, prayers and love for my little family during this. We worked hard to bring these boys into our lives, and we will continue to work hard to keep them healthy and happy, no matter what that may entail.

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