Still Not Normal

I am now 30 weeks pregnant. It seems pretty hard to believe, but it's true. I still catch myself wondering sometimes if it's really going to happen, but most of the time now I'm thinking about what I still need to get done before the end of January.

My crankiness at the moment rivals the first trimester. I can also feel myself turning inward, focusing a lot less on external relationships and more on my own feelings. I guess this is normal for the third trimester, but I feel antisocial and strange. And my poor husband is dealing with the worst of the bitchiness and stress. He's being great, but I feel bad (in my saner moments, which are few and far between).

The gestational diabetes has added a lot of stress to the pregnancy over the last couple of weeks. I am following the diet and checking my blood glucose levels but I wouldn't call it under control. All my post-meal numbers are fine (unless there is an obvious reason, like a burrito full of rice or my husband's birthday cake), but my morning fasting numbers are a different story. Not once have I come in under the number they want (90), even after choking down natural peanut butter right before bed. So last night I got up at 3 AM for a yogurt (recommended by the dietician) and that didn't help either. I suspect that nightly insulin is in my future.

Whatever. I am dealing with it as well as I can. I don't like the pressure that comes with this diagnosis, but I don't really feel much like dwelling on it either. Suffice it to say that I know a lot of people have a lot worse problems to deal with. Yet another miscarriage, for instance. It seems like a lot of my sisters in recurrent miscarriage are living through the special hell of spontaneous abortion at the moment, and I am feeling very sad for them.

I've been thinking about my own miscarriages a lot lately. I guess because I'm experiencing all these parts of pregnancy that I never reached before, and it makes me think of what I missed back in 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, and 2004. Sometimes it blows my mind that if my first pregnancy had worked out, I would have a four-year-old right now. And I'd probably be dealing with SIF. I mean, even in the one pregnancy I've had that actually progressed, I still lost an embryo at 9 weeks. Just like always. I'm just grateful we started with two this time.

I can understand why long-term IF puts you at greater risk for postpartum depression, I really can. Thank goodness I already have a therapist lined up, just in case.

Everything's not all doom and gloom, though. Last night we started our childbirth class. I had already read a lot of what we discussed, but it was good to be able to ask questions. I almost felt like a normal person, except for when the nurse singled me out as the only gestational diabetic in the room, and said things might be different for me at delivery. Like I couldn't have guessed.

And yesterday my coworkers surprised me with a small baby shower. I was very shocked. I was glad it was a surprise, although I don't normally like surprises very much. But because I didn't know about it, I didn't have a chance to get all freaked out beforehand. It was really nice of them. I certainly didn't expect anyone to throw my cranky ass a shower.