I remember sitting in my wheelchair in the examining room with my Mum when my midwife broke the news that not only was I going to be battling a surgery recovery, non weight bearing, a heavy moonboot, blood thinning injections nightly but; I also had been diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes. Which I never actually had much of a clue about.
I knew you got it when you were pregnant and it was likely to go away. I knew it wasn’t something anyone wanted and people were often super glad to be told they DIDN’T have it.
I remember being absolutely devestated. I didn’t know how I was going to mentally and physically cope with this too. I didn't actually know what this entailed or what would change for me.
I held back a lot of my tears and asked a few questions. I’m glad my Mum was there because she asked a lot of things I wasn’t even thinking.
I was given more appointments - for a diabetes educator, a diabetes class, an endocrinologist, new midwife and dietician.
How many appointments does one pregnant lady need- right?!
When we got to the car, I broke. I remember crying for what seemed like a while but, it was really only a minute. I had my moment and it was time to get on with things. Nobody else could grow my baby for me and my baby needed me to push on.
My schedule was full, my nerves were high but, my support system was also strong. And I knew I was strong too.
By the time I reached 32 weeks my diet had dramatically changed. I was weighing things, beating cravings, eating WAY more than I ever had and checking my sugar levels multiple times a day. Despite all our efforts we had something against us (a main way of keeping your blood sugar levels right is exercise. ) I was still non- weight bearing and sporting a pretty heavy moonboot so exercise was merely impossible.
This is part of the reason that my levels were unable to be controlled through diet alone.
Cue, insulin injection.
I was getting heavier, sweatier, hairier ( if that was even possible) and more stretched than ever. Because I wasn't moving around a lot and undressing was a mission I hadn't actually looked at myself in the mirror for what felt like months. When I did finally look I was shocked. Why hadn't anyone told me my stretch marks were not only on my stomach but also all over my thighs and southern region. This is something I was not prepared for and took a couple of days to actually accept. Its hard to accept a body changing so radically when you have no control (and even harder when you haven't looked at it in a while).
By this time I was a master at manoeuvring the (extremely large) basketball under my shirt and my crutches.. I was even going up some small stairs!
Somewhere between all this chaos I managed to help plan a friends hens... I'm not too sure how or when?!
At 33 weeks I was graced with the AMAZING anticipated news that I could remove the moonboot and begin to weight bare... JUST IN TIME! It was the weekend of my baby shower.
I felt like a major inconvenience and a bit of a blob walking (or should I say hobbling) through the airport using crutches to assist me. I had gotten a wheelchair from the desk to the gate; a lift up the stairs and the same on the other end. By this stage I felt like perspiration came hand in hand with pregnancy. I was always sticky, stuffy and uncomfortable.
The day itself was everything I could of wished for and more.. My sisters and Mum really outdid themselves. I felt so much love and care by everyone around me. My Mother-in-Law even surprised me with flying from the Gold Coast to be there for the day... how freaking amazing is that right?!
We were so spoilt and I felt so relieved that my parents were going to drive all of this stuff up from Melbourne and I didn't have to try and get it back on a flight.... This baby was so ready now- they had everything they could of need and more.
Every two weeks now I had my Wednesdays full of back-to-back appointments. My levels still remained uncontrolled even with all of the insulin increases. The endocrinologist decided it was time to up it to 2 injections a day... Bubs was measuring big (well.. bigger than usual) and they were starting to worry about the belly and ahead size along with my high fluid levels. This resulted in more CTG's and more ultrasounds to ensure that everything was okay in there.
I was beginning to get anxious now with the impending arrival coming in hard and fast. I was determined to walking alone with no supports before I gave birth which was beginning to look impossible; even with weekly physio appointments, countless exercises and continuous trial and error.
My movement was not improving and my swelling had stayed at a constant level. There was no improvement which began to make me really disheartened.
The sadness, realisation of having a baby without being able to walk and the I guess jealous of other women who were able to embrace and enjoy their pregnancy started to kick in. I started to feel guilty. Complete guilt that I didn't enjoy my first successful pregnancy, guilt that I had sat on a couch for the most part and complete guilt that my ankle took over from the joy of growing my precious bundle. Being couch bound, it was hard to enjoy the legs in the ribs without being able to move to help relive the pressure- I wasn't able to take my bump out and enjoy my life before I became a Mum. This was a hard pill to swallow and something I've only just been coming to terms with now... 8 months later.
By 35 weeks the crutches were long gone and my new friend Mr Walking Stick was here to stay. My ankle (or should I say kankle) wasn’t getting any less swollen. Between the scar tissue and the pregnancy fluid I'm not sure I had anything on my side. I walked with a limp (compassionately called limp biscuit by Tom) and my foot turned out to the left.
If going out in public wasn’t already enough of a struggle the stares of almost everyone as a bowling ball of a woman limped her way slowly but surely passed them was enough to make me second guess going out. The sympathy on people’s faces were something I would get often but, learnt to disregard.
35 weeks is also when something I had been longing for happened. I was cleared for work. Crazy right?!! I feel like I did everything backwards. This is around the time everyone begins their maternity leave but, not me. I was so god damn bored at home. I had serious cabin fever and the fact I wasn’t contributing financially to the household played on my mind a lot. I had used all of my leave in the past 10 weeks with nothing left. Tom was reassuring me that it wasn’t my fault- this is not something we wished for (who wishes for a broken ankle right?) but, the guilt was still there. I needed to return to work. If not for money, for my own sanity.
So, off I went. It was so much more tiring then I remember. All my colleagues were so helpful and accommodating with my new needs of crippleness and all. But, I was there and I was doing something. My mind was busy and at the end of the day I was so sore and so tired but, at least I found a way to kick that pregnancy insomnia (well, sort of).
I still wasn’t allowed to drive so Tom would drop me and pick me up everyday- my personal chauffeur who only gets paid in gratitude.
The two weeks I went back to work did actual wonders for my mental health.
At 36 weeks I had to attend a breastfeeding for Mothers with Gestational Diabetes class. I learnt how to hand express and would need to start that day at home. Collecting colostrum was important as my baby might need this as soon as they come out. I would hand express every night and Tom would share in my little victories of getting more and more into the little syringes every time.
Until you have done this you will not understand the accomplishment that comes with filling an entire syringe. It's amazing. I think by the time we were to go to the hospital. I had got around 30mls (which is insane for the time I did it for).
We were now at 37 weeks and what would be (unbeknownst to us) my last OB/midwife appointment. The ultrasound I had the week prior was still showing exceptionally high fluid levels (just one look at my swollen face and you would known), a baby who was growing very quickly (about 1 pound or 454grams a week) with a tummy that was potentially going to be bigger than the head. This was a concern as they worried we would get the head out and the baby would get stuck with the tummy size. Although ultrasounds are not always accurate they can be a good indication.
On top of these concerns, my blood glucose levels had become uncontrollable. I was having four (high) doses of insulin a day along with my daily blood thinners. I was beginning to feel like a fat, uncomfortable, sphere pin cushion with a bum and legs forever in her ribs; making it increasingly hard to breathe. I was always puffing as if I'd just run a friggen marathon!
Anyway, the OB had advised us that we would be having our baby the following week. This was insane to us! We always knew I wouldn't be going over 39 weeks due to my GDM but, a week earlier than that?! Nope. No. We were not ready.
I feel like every single pregnant couple go through this time. The sheer panic of "am I ready?", "do we have ebnugh stuff?", "can I do this?", "can WE do this?", "WHAT IF MY BABY HAS AN OUTTY BELLY BUTTON?!" (which in the last few days was actually one of our main concerns).
The following week consisted of ALOT of dinners, movie dates, sleep, panic and anticipation for the unknown. I didn't know how to be in labour - let alone an induced labour., I prayed that my "stretch and sweep" on the Monday would work and that a full induction was not needed.
Nearly everyone who I had spoken to had instilled in my head that it often led to a C-section which terrified me.
The weekend before our baby ebtered the world was a lot of mixed feelings. Our world would never be the same. We participated in our last parenting class (squeezing it in just in time) where I was an absolute whale compared to all the cute bumps of 18 weekers.
I also went and participated in a workshop called "spinning babies". This workshop single handily helped me shape my labour and listen to my body. I was invited by our birth photographer (yes! we had one of those - best decision for us). This workshop was something I would recommend to all pregnant women to go to and research some of the methods.
I had already (unbeknownst to us) been sort of using some methods for months. Being on all fours and crawling up and down the stairs had actually helped to turn my baby and provide a good path for birth. This helped me feel a little more confident heading into the week ahead.
I was excited to have my baby finally in my arms but, I was also terrified of the unknown.
Happy to stop being a pin cushion, terrified to be a Mum and learn what that entails.
Terrified to be a Mum with a walking stick (I hasn't been able to shake that thing) but, so happy to have a partner who is able to pick up my slack in a heartbeat without complaints.
I was about to finish my season of a pregripple and enter my new journey of just being a cripple.
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