Pregnancy is not for the faint of heart. At least not this faint heart. There is so much that could go wrong and so much you can’t control and all you want to do is make sure that you can protect this little one growing inside of you (and stop with the googling of all the things – seriously, I know better!). Because, after all, that is your job as a mother. However, this pregnancy has consistently reminded me with a few slaps n the face that I have no control. Enter sweaty palms and teeth gritting.

Perhaps it’s the way I entered this pregnancy – not completely back to myself and dealing with anxiety that I have never experienced before. Or perhaps it’s because we never saw this pregnancy coming. Or it could be that each of our pregnancies and deliveries has pretty much been the most routine and streamlined thing we have experienced (a blessing that I make sure to never take for granted) while this pregnancy has us on the edge of our seats.

Whatever it is, I am counting down these last weeks because I am ready to have this babe in my arms and put the drama of this pregnancy behind me. Have I mentioned that I don’t do well with not having control? 

Before I really dive into all of the latest that has been happening with this little one, I want to make sure and mention that while gestational diabetes is a complication of pregnancy and can cause some serious issues, I know that things could be a lot worse.

My heart breaks for so many mothers out there who are coping with more extreme health issues or who are worried for their baby due to complications or who are still waiting to carry a baby of their own. Those things are never lost on me, however, I know that a lot of women out there probably feel like they cannot be open about their struggle no matter how big or small it is in their minds because others “just might have it worse”.

However, struggle is struggle. And we all deal with different things in different ways. And being open about what we struggle with does not make us ungrateful. It simply makes us human and as women and mothers, we should be sympathetic to the fact that pregnancy, no matter what shape or form, is quite the ride.

So here we are at 36 weeks.

I don’t think my body can stretch anymore and I don’t think my muscles can carry anymore (thanks to previous episiotomies and births the pain this go around has been a little intense). His kicks and stretching are out of this world and now that he is running out of room a bit, I am wincing more than I am smiling about it. Don’t get me wrong, I will never get tired of feeling a little one move inside of me, but this kid can pack a punch! I’m sure that will be a good thing for him since he has four older siblings to deal with once he is out.

I still deal with cravings, but most of them are squashed due to diet restrictions from the diabetes. Trust me, I have a list of things I want to put in my mouth as soon as I am in the clear. I am now at a lower weight than when I first found out we were expecting, but nothing has surprised us or my doctor due to the changes in eating habits I have had to take on. Not to mention, I was dealing with carrying a bit too much weight when I started anyway.

My movement is becoming less and less and my bed is my favorite place to be right now between the back pain and random contractions I am experiencing since a week ago. I have been putzing around the house decking things in fall decor when I have energy and also organizing things here or there. When we are running errands, I’m usually lagging behind the group as I waddle down the aisles and if I’m lucky, we score just the right shopping cart at Target that allows me to sit and get pushed around while we browse. Apparently, I have no shame. Unless of course, I see someone approaching that we know and then I hop off as quickly as I can and pretend that I was walking the entire time.

We are still working to gather all of the baby things (because silly us gave everything away thinking we were done) and it has been such a sweet experience to be laundering, hanging and folding the tiniest of clothes. Soaking in the smallest of details in case I never experience this all again.

A name has not yet been chosen, but we are always in discussion as a family about the top three we do have. Previous pregnancies we have already had the name chosen long before this point, but my gut is telling me that I have to see him first to know for sure which one it will be.

The kids are counting down the days and take turns telling us what they want to help with when he arrives and the fun things they plan to do with him while we gently remind everyone that his first few months will be pretty non-active. It’s still adorable that the youngest siblings plan games to play with him and what toys they think he will like the best.

The foot and back rubs are plenty, the upkeep in shaving my legs has been better than I usually do myself, my toes are always freshly manicured and there is always a hand available for me to squeeze when wincing in pain. Errands are run when I don’t feel up to it, kids are picked up from school when it’s too hot still and laundry and dishes are done on the daily. Thank goodness for that man of mine.

And thank goodness my boys have him to watch and learn how it’s done right. His constant support and ability to dig in where it is needed as well as calm my stress and fears through everything going on makes me fall in love with him again and again. I don’t know what I did to deserve him.

So now onto the drama portion of this post and two words that I really have grown to detest… gestational diabetes.

If you have been following along on Instagram, you know that one of the biggest hurdles we have faced are my fasting numbers. No matter what I did, I could not get them to where they needed to be which is under 90. And I could just hug the dietician specialist a few weeks ago when she informed me that it is something completely out of my control and has to do entirely with the placenta and when my hormones are most active. It’s hard to not feel like you are failing your own child when it comes to this stuff, but hearing how pleased they were with my diet and daily numbers was the boost I needed at that point.

However, even though all of my other numbers daily and each evening are on point and where they should be (blood level checks happen four times daily), my fasting number was still a problem. After touching base with my OB, they decided to first try me on Metformin, a pill based diabetes medication that I was to take with dinner every evening. Awesome, I can handle that.

One Metformin taken with dinner still did nothing for my fasting numbers. Checked back in with my OB and specialists and they told me to try two pills. Still nothing. Can you sense my frustration at this point?

So while I wait for them to decide on the next step, my doctor informs me that we will now be monitoring Baby twice weekly – a stress monitor test at each of my regular visits as well as a growth ultrasound to make sure Baby is doing well. Okay, I can do that too.

Fast forward a few days and we are at our growth ultrasound. The technician was fast-paced, talked about her life as a single mom and her baggage issues with men, and how she was not meant for motherhood. And while I tried to tell her that just couldn’t be true and that I’m sure she was a wonderful mother just dealing with different stages with her 7-month-old, the entire appointment felt… off. I wasn’t sure if it was due to her energy and sarcasm or if it was due to my nerves about how the baby was looking and if everything was OK, but my jaw dropped and my eyes welled with tears when she informed us that the baby was weighing in at 7 pounds, 11 ounces.

What?! How could that be? Just a few weeks ago he was weighing approximately 4 pounds! My mind raced through the issues that gestational diabetes can cause and this was one of them – larger birth weight which can cause a myriad of problems while delivering. But almost 8 pounds at 36 weeks?! She ended the ultrasound rather quickly, told us everything else looks good, wished us luck and sent us on our way. I walked out into the hallway of the medical office, buried my face in Jarett’s shoulder and sobbed.

The stress, the mental exhaustion, the emotional rollercoaster of this pregnancy. I was breaking down.

I didn’t talk the whole way home. My mind wandered with what this was going to mean for the rest of this pregnancy as well as our delivery. For a woman who has such routine births, it was hard to think about the possibility that this one wouldn’t be what we were used to at all. Were we going to have to plan on a C-section? Would we be delivering much earlier due to his weight? I have four kids at home who need me as well and recovery after a C-section was not something I had pictured. I mean, you’re talking to the girl that is out of the hospital and home within 24 hours with each of her four babies. I just didn’t want any different. And yes, this is rational pregnant Kara talking at this point if you can’t tell. Hello, hormones.

That same day I got a call from the specialists that they were going to call in the insulin for me to begin that evening. Wonderful. Another reason I wanted to bury myself in bed until this kid arrives. That day was a low one and I absolutely and 100% struggled through it. I’ll own it. And also know that I needed to move on from it. For this little one, my family, and my own sanity. And that evening, I stayed far away from my laptop and Google.

So. All of that brings us to today.

An appointment with our beloved OB and I had a million questions to ask him and was hoping for a game plan. Oh, Kara. Slow your roll.

My OB’s greatest ability is to help me calm the hell down and do it all with a touch of humor and slight sarcasm which really is my love language.

We discussed Baby’s weight that we were informed about a few days prior and he immediately informed me that the margin of error with growth ultrasounds are high. And that they can be off by up to two pounds. Oh, how I would have loved to hear this a few days ago from the technician in the moment! And after telling him that I cannot give birth to a 13-pound baby – you know, the kind they report on the six o’clock news – he assured me that he has never delivered a newsworthy baby and that all of my previous little ones have been average in size so there was no reason to believe this one wouldn’t be as well.

He told me that everything with Baby looked absolutely fine, nothing that would cause concern which I am extremely grateful for. And while he is confident that Baby’s size is nothing to worry about and is most likely off by what we were told, he did say that we will continue playing it all by ear as far as when we feel the need to deliver. And of course, reminded me that the most important thing right now is for me to relax and not stress so that Baby and I can prepare for what we need to.

So, I walked out of the appointment today feeling so much more at ease, but slightly on edge that we will just sort of…. wait. Have I mentioned the control issue I seem to have? 

So while I still lie here in bed wondering if my baby is somehow functioning off of a primordial ooze Teenage-Mutant-Ninja-Turtle style that is causing rapid growth, I am choosing to trust my OB and put all of my faith into the fact that God blessed us with this surprise for a reason. And whether that reason is to teach me a lesson in patience during this pregnancy or endurance, I’ll take it either way if it means getting to hold a little one in my arms again and seeing our family grow by another.

Oh, and did I mention that after the first night of both Metformin and a dose of insulin my fasting numbers are still high? Stay tuned and wish me luck! This mama could use a little.