yeah, so apparently this little alien is causing my body to not properly deal with sugar.
what a bummer.
not only does this include pricking my finger 4-6 times a day to check my glucose levels, but it also involves taking a drug called glyburide - which is sort of new, and of course, seems to be ok for pregnant women in their second and third trimester only. awesome. but the health risks to the child, should i not watch my diet, check my glucose and take meds is a bit scary (meaning fat baby, c-section baby, addicted to sugar baby, etc). happy to do the right thing. i never knew i would like diet, caffeine free coke so much. ah, can of chemicals, you light up my life.
otherwise all is well. har. really, there is very little left to go, so i dont feel completely panicked or totally freaked out. i am, however, having to switch doctors - see, my lovely 13 year old (as max calls her) family practice doctor is still a resident. cool, but when you are killing your child with sugar, they like a real ob/gyn to consult. well, new man doctor had a bit less bedside manner, but seems entirely efficient and capable. he also basically said he was taking over, was going too see me every week, etc. super. so bye doogie howser, hello mr. sassy man doctor. ah, HMO's. but, i should mention for a moment how grateful i am for insurance. cah-rist! once appt. cost nearly 1,500 dollars! ack! and my lovely insurance covers all pre-natal care. craziness. i mean, we are talking thousands of dollars here. i appreciate why it is all so expensive, but what a burden all around! the US should become a much more fascist country and limit how many children can be born a year. i mean, seriously people.
but other than being a baby killer, i feel pretty good. now, i am getting slightly huge. max likes to affectionately sing the babar theme song. yes, babar is an elephant. max is a really wonderful, supportive husband. who i will surely murder once this child is out of me. but really, it must be a bizarre sight, to see that your partner looks like she swallowed a basketball. but he is a lucky guy. and he happens to rub my feet every night, so i suppose i can forgive the babar sing a long.
