If you saw me on the street and asked how I was, I would probably say, “OK”. I’m too honest to say, “I’m doing well” because I’m not. But I’m too aware of social norms to say, “Not very well.” Probably the truth would be something like, “It’s complicated.” 

Oh how I wish I had something shiny and hopeful to post about. A much-longed for pregnancy should feel more joyful, shouldn’t it? 

But the truth is I am worn thin and fraying at the edges. 

Gestational Diabetes took me by surprise. I don’t know why, but I assumed I would have an essentially trouble free pregnancy, probably because most people do. It has also turned out to be even harder to control and plan for than I had imagined, and I have a fertile imagination so that’s saying something. The last couple of weeks have been consumed in thoughts about what to eat, when to eat, when to test, when to exercise and how to schedule “the rest” of life around this now all consuming new hobby full time job. Trying to get enough calories in, planning and eating ginormous breakfasts before Nathan gets up, and then striving to get in a strenuous walk within two hours all while making sure I can test at time when we’re not in the middle of a doctor’s appointment or work meeting is about to drive me crazy. And I mean that literally.  

And on top of that, at my last visit my blood pressure was high. Much too high. It was shocking to hear the number (all three times they tested it) because I usually have very low blood pressure, although given my current stress level I guess it’s not surprising. Now my midwives are discussing probable bed rest in the next few weeks if we can’t get it under control. This feels like almost too much for me.  I was sent away with admonitions to rest and reduce stress. That of course is laughable. 

Finally, they will be watching Elijah’s growth closely for growth restriction due to the placement of the placenta. I have to say it is amusing that they are concerned that he could be too small and too large at the same time. I’m not overly worried about it. Yet. 

All of these complications are concerning in their own right. To have all three is very difficult. But the ultimate reason this is so upsetting is that I have my heart set on a non-hospital birth. Many women feel safest delivering in a hospital. I am the opposite. Avoiding the hospital is a primary goal of mine and these complications put that in jeopardy. If I have to go on insulin I will automatically have to switch my care over to the OBGyns my midwives work with. This is incredibly upsetting to me, even though I know all the responsible things like “needing to do what’s best for the baby” and “God isn’t surprised by this”. 

I’m at that place where I know that God has a plan and I need to trust and yada yada yada – but… what I feel is panic and despair. I cry a lot. And I mean A LOT! Several times a day. Pregnancy hormones aren’t giving me any breaks any where. 

It reminds me of the adoption process. People always assumed I was happy and excited when the truth was I was anxious and overwhelmed, stressed out and depressed. Thankfully I know what I didn’t know then. Being a parent is delightful even if becoming one is hell. 

When I need a break (which is often) I think about snuggling a warm newborn up to my chest, breathing him in, and just being his Mama. And I get enough of a hormone boost to make it a few more hours. 

 

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