So ever since the episode of House where the blogger goes in and they think she's dying of cancer, needs a heart valve transplant, and has to blog about everything and everyone - I kind of feel weird for having a blog. I'll get over it, though. In the next ten seconds.
Last week was a rough one. Rougher than I cared to admit. Work was bad - really bad - as far as my stress level and sanity were concerned. I had to let go of some resentment (on my part) and stupidity (on the part of others, of course) in order to just get through the week. And I see it getting worse before it gets better, but the good news is God gave me a great sense of peace about it all - and simply because I asked Him to. He's so awesome like that.
I had a routine doctor's appointment last week. At least I thought it was routine. She was concerned with my blood pressure and weight gain. 146/85 was completely above and beyond what my blood pressure has been the previous 30 weeks. (120s over 60s/70s) Plus - apparently gaining 12 pounds in three weeks is not cool. What? I'm pregnant! Isn't that the only given? Gaining weight? Yes - but apparently not 12 pounds in three weeks. She didn't smile once - because this was serious - and if I didn't cut salt and sodium from my diet, things were going to get worse and I could very well end up on bed rest. Gulp.
I left - totally frazzled. I was in tears the rest of the day. Fragile and sensitive about everything. Crap. I talked with my boss about the possibility of bed rest, and needing to change some things around at work. He was so supportive about the whole deal - and even let me cry in front of him. The conversation started something like,
"So you need to talk to me about your health issues?"
"Yes. Do you care if I cry?"
"No, go ahead."
And he was cool with it. Phew.
For the last week, I have been such a good girl. Making everything from scratch, cooking myself, not going through a single drive-thru, etc. And it has been HARD. You can't tell a pizza-addict that she cannot have pizza three times a week. I mean really. Little Caesar's isn't the best pizza in the world, but it's inexpensive, and it's two blocks away. I can't even have a whiff of it now, or I swell up to eight times my size. I digress. Today was check-in day to have my weight and blood pressure re-evaluated.
After a brief stint in the waiting room, I was called back by a spunky, cute nurse who I've never seen before. I weighed in. Drum roll, please. I WAS DOWN FOUR POUNDS! 4! Think of all the extra water I've been carrying, to where changing my diet makes me drop 4 pounds of excess water/swelling, at 32 weeks pregnant. Unbelievable! I was excited - and knew my blood pressure was going to be awesome too. I relaxed for a few minutes, and the nurse came back and put the cuff on my arm.
148/97. Higher than last time. And I had even been having a good day at work. Insert heavy sigh here.
I went downstairs to have blood drawn and pee in the infamous cup. The latter is getting harder and harder the farther along I'm getting. Soon enough I'll have to put the cup on the floor, stand above it, shake my hips and hope for the best. (I kid. I tease. I probably won't try that.)
Doc called me later this afternoon. I got - I mean had - to step out of a conference call meeting to take her call. One of the labs came back abnormal. The good news is the rest were fine, and I don't have toxemia. Yet. The abnormality is "nonspecific" - so it could be one of any number of things that's quirky. It could be something as simple as my carpal tunnel affecting my blood pressure levels. (My fingers are tingling as I type.) I could just have "gestational hypertension".
Tomorrow I head back for an ultrasound to check the baby's growth and my amniotic fluid levels. Friday I head back for more lab work and a non-stress test (where you just lay around forever and they monitor the baby's heart rate, movement, etc.) Mom reminded me that tests are to rule things out - not to confirm worst cases. So we're ruling out that I'm being a bad mom. First and foremost. Phew!
I don't know what it all means. I don't know what will happen over the next 7 weeks, and I don't know when I started to love raisins so much. Is God trying to get my attention? Probably. Why am I refusing to give it to Him? Cause I get scared....what? I do. Is that backwards? Completely. So pray for me, please?
I go to the doc again tomorrow - and I get to see my baby girl, and get to have my husband (my wonderful, amazing husband) alongside me. Friday I go back so they can rule out all the stuff that isn't in fact wrong. Tuesday I go back again for them to tell me how awesome I'm doing. It's all good.
And I will continue to enjoy raisins in the meantime. While I pretend it's pepperoni pizza.