The Home Stretch

This Wednesday, I’ll be 28 weeks pregnant, tiptoeing cautiously into my third trimester. It sounds insane, but I can’t believe I’m still pregnant — I keep waiting for someone to call this whole thing off, and so far, no one has. Instead, people keep giving me onesies and bibs and tidbits of advice, like I’m actually going to have this baby and bring it home to live in my house . . .

Anyway, a few random things:

  • I had an echocardiogram several weeks ago, just to ensure that the baby isn’t truly, literally sucking the life out of me. I didn’t really expect any major issues, since I’ve felt relatively okay, but I was surprised as all hell to hear that my ejection fraction is in the normal-person range for the first time in years. My cardiologist was similarly relieved and happy, but the same high-risk OB who warned of heart transplants and other bad things was a little more reserved. When I told her about the results, she was totally “no duh” about the whole thing. “Your ejection fraction goes up because there’s so much more blood in your system and your heart needs to work harder,” she explained, like maybe I’d asked her why sometimes it hurts to get punched in the face. In any case, I’ll take the normal EF all day long.
  • I guess I always thought that babies just hung out in your guts and calmly, slowly grew to their fully realized states, but as it turns out, they have lots of things to do in there! From what I’ve observed, my baby’s daily schedule is full of Jazzercise classes, jogging in place, signing the alphabet, doing the Elaine, rowing, and churning butter. I’m not complaining, though! I’m way too paranoid and superstitious to complain about such a thing — keep moving around, kid!
  • I do not have a birth plan. I fully intend on making my diabetes-management intentions clear for the day of the birth and the few days I’m in the hospital, but other than that? I have no idea. If there’s anything that diabetes has taught me, it’s that shit hardly ever goes according to plan, and the last thing I need is something to look back at and feel bad about after I’ve gotten this child out of my body — however that event comes to pass. (Also, it’s my belief that most people ask you about your birth plan just so they can roll their eyes and laugh about it later.)
  • When I first learned I was pregnant, I was cautious about keeping my plans for Children with Diabetes Friends for Life, but now that that shindig’s right around the corner, I am so looking forward to attending. I need a few solid days of DOC madness and pre-carb-counted meals in my life, even if my Diet Coke consumption will be far more limited than it was last year. I cannot wait to stay up late and eat ice cream and cry in hotel ballrooms with you kids.
  • I feel like I’m already planning my post-Type 1 pregnancy burnout period. How refreshing it will be to see the occasional blood sugar in the high 200s and know that the only person’s health I’m threatening is my own! Diabetes is so weird. And so am I.

Baby foot in your face! (And your ribs, and your bladder, and the inside side of your belly button, and your side . . .)