She Says… Emergency Tissue Situation

I’ve had a lot of them recently. Those emergency tissue situations. And since it’s warm now and I don’t have a constant runny nose like I did in January, I have been completely unprepared almost every time.

And I’m not just talking snot. No, I have the pleasure of dealing with a strange pregnancy affliction: Bloody Noses.

This is not a new problem for me. As a tween/teen I remember getting them regularly until I actually had to have a vein cauterized inside my nose. Maybe I have weird nose veins. Who knows. It is also something I struggled with in the first trimester of both of my pregnancies. Not major bleeding, but just often enough to be annoying, and to catch me off guard in public places with no tissue available.

The last few weeks, they seem to have started up again. This week alone I’ve had 3. And it’s Thursday. Yesterday I was getting Owen out of his carseat to drop him off at school and without any notice, blood poured out of my nose, narrowly missing my white pants. (One of the only 2 pairs of work-appropriate pants that still fit… so that would have been a real disaster). I walked him into school clutching my nose, freaking out his teacher and searching for a tissue before the blood made an even bigger mess. Gross. A few days ago we were out for a walk around the block. A street away from my house I felt the warm fluid rolling down my face and had to walk all the way home pinching my nose and encouraging Owen to ride a little faster on his scooter. On our Florida vacation we were having drinks on the patio and watching the sunset and the blood started flowing.

Thankfully I’m not really bothered by them and am very calm, so Owen hasn’t been scared. In fact, he always demands to see the blood (he also likes to watch me do my 4x/day blood sugar tests when I have to prick my finger — we’ve talked a lot about blood recently!). On our walk/scooter ride he patted me gently and said, “It’s ok, Mommy. Just blood. We’ll go right home and I’ll get you a tissue.”.

I know, I know. I need to put tissues in every pocket of every pair of pants/shorts I own. You’d think I would learn my lesson by now.

I don’t think it’s related to dry air (we have the windows open whenever possible and I don’t feel particularly dry right now), and it’s definitely not related to trauma. My midwife said it’s not an uncommon pregnancy side-effect given that pregnant women have a dramatic increase in blood volume to provide for the baby. She checked my blood count a few weeks ago and isn’t worried about any sort of clotting disorder or blood levels being out of whack, so it seems like something I’m just going to have to deal with.

But 3-4 more weeks of dealing with spontaneous bloody noses doesn’t sound like fun. Anyone else dealt with this strange symptom during their pregnancy? Or do I just have a weird body?

She Says… The Bright Side

The gestational diabetes diagnosis has been pretty disappointing.

And it’s not just limiting the amount of ice cream I indulge in, either. I have to follow a strict diet of counting carbs to make sure I don’t overload my system and space them out throughout the day. As I’ve mentioned before, I already eat a very healthy whole foods diet, but previously it included a lot of fruit, which ranks pretty high on the carb scale. Since Benjamin and Owen are gluten free, most of my meals don’t revolve around bread-y carbs, but I certainly love a gigantic bowl of cereal in the morning (ahem, with milk, and fruit…) which I had to stop immediately. Even super “healthy” granola bars, which used to be my Go To snack, are relatively carb-heavy.

My diabetes-approved meals are high in protein and vegetables (as they were before), and now I also rely heavily on low-carb wraps as my “bread”. Breakfast is often a wrap with eggs, or a wrap with nut butter, plus a side of protein like cottage cheese or yogurt. Not having fruit in the morning has been hard, but I’m learning to readjust my palate. Snacks are nuts, more cheese or something dipped in hummus. Lunches are usually salads with protein (meat, a small serving of beans or more cheese) and usually an avocado. I previously ate about 2 avocados a week, now it’s more like 6 or 7 avocados a week. With a spoon and a pinch of salt. Yum. Dinners are protein (usually meat or tofu), veggies and maybe a grain or another wrap with hummus on the side.

It’s all very healthy, but feels VERY monotonous. Most sauces and even marinades increase my blood sugars, so they are out, and even things like craisins on top of my salad make a difference. I’ve gotten some high blood sugar levels over the last few weeks that have proved to me that there really is no room for “cheating”, and, perhaps more importantly, even some super healthy meals just aren’t healthy for me right now. The highest level I’ve gotten was after a dinner of tofu and vegetable stir fry with brown rice. It’s not like I’m sitting here drinking soda and gobbling white bread! And I’m sure that everyone out there who has been pregnant can imagine what all of that cheese + normal pregnancy poop issues means. Ugh.

The finger sticking (and remembering to prick my fingers one hour after every meal and first thing in the morning) also still feels like quite a burden. I know many people have to deal with much worse, and still others have to deal with this their whole lives, so I really shouldn’t be complaining. But still, if I’m being honest, it’s added quite a bit of challenge to an already challenging time.

Currently I am managing the diabetes through diet alone, so I haven’t had to take insulin (more shots!) or other drugs. My doctor recently explained that if I do end up having to take insulin in the remaining weeks of my pregnancy, or if my diabetes is not able to be controlled by diet any more, it could result in some serious complications for the little guy currently taking up residence in my tummy. Logistically it would mean seeing the doctor TWICE a week instead of once, and doing a non-stress test every single time, which lasts at least an hour. (HOW DO PEOPLE HAVE TIME FOR THAT KIND OF MONITORING?!) In addition, there are other concerns of preeclampsia/high blood pressure for me and out of whack sugar levels for the baby once he is born.

Another thing that can happen is the baby can be very small (undernourished), or very large (overnourished), which can impact how the baby is delivered (aka a higher likelihood of a c section if it’s the latter). One way my doctor likes to monitor this is to do one or more extra “growth ultrasounds” to get an estimate of the baby’s size.

So! Finally! The bright side of gestational diabetes amidst my whiny post!

Yesterday we went in for our first (and maybe only?) growth ultrasound to see how the wee babe is growing.

I’ve never seen an ultrasound past 20 weeks, so he looked HUGE on the screen. So big you couldn’t even see more than 1/4 of his body at once. You could see individual fingers as he put them up to his mouth, and we watched his lips purse together as he practiced swallowing. His profile looks like a perfect little person. Probably exactly like it will when he is born. The details were astonishing. He stayed nice and still for the measurement part of the appointment, and then we had to wiggle my belly around to wake him up (since they want to see movement). It was CRAZY to watch him move on the screen and feel the movement inside my body simultaneously.

He’s measuring a perfect 34 weeks, and the tech estimated he weighs 5lbs 8oz so far. I know these estimates are just estimates and could be really far off, but it’s still pretty cool to think that he’s very, VERY close to being ready to come out and say hi. I have a friend who just delivered a full term baby who weighed one oz less than that!

The other bright side is that this strict diet has definitely impacted my weight gain. With Owen I gained 40 pounds in 38 weeks. I’m not proud of that fact, as it’s more than was recommended by my doctor, but I was very healthy and exercised a ton during that time, so I think it was just the way my body needed to adjust to grow Owen. That amount of weight all came off by the time Owen was 5 or 6 months, and I even lost a few pounds after that. When I got pregnant this time I weighed exactly the same as I did when I got pregnant with Owen. Except this time I’m almost 35 weeks along and have only gained 22 pounds. Given what I’m “allowed” to eat these days, I’m actually having trouble gaining the pound-a-week I’m supposed to gain in these final weeks. Believe me, those are words I never thought I’d say, as gaining weight has never been a problem for me before!

So, for all the downsides of gestational diabetes, I’m also trying to be thankful for the bright sides!

She Says… A Weekend Off

Two events collided this weekend and ended up giving me a gift I didn’t even know I wanted needed.

1. We were planning on heading up to New Hampshire with some of Benjamin’s family, many of whom were visiting from California and who we don’t get to see very often. We’ve had a few crazy weekends of “exceptions” for Owen and I’ve been working overtime recently, so I felt like all I really wanted was a calm weekend at home to recover. But our weekends available for road tripping before this baby arrives are disappearing fast and this trip has been planned for months!
2. Then, at the end of last week, our contractor announced that things were moving so quickly with our renovation (THAT NEVER HAPPENS, I KNOW) that he needed ALL of our bathroom fixtures/vanity/tub and other interior “stuff” in his hands on Monday so he and the plumber and electrician can rough everything in. Ummm. Apparently picked out on Pinterest wasn’t enough. He needed them, like, now.

So we did something unprecedented that gave everyone what they wanted.

Benjamin and Owen went to New Hampshire to soak up the sun and give Owen lots and lots of family time. I stayed home and got the weekend at home I was craving, and was in charge of making as many trips to Home Depot and the like to get everything we needed for the renovation. Lest you think I got the short end of the stick there, I ADORE trips to Home Depot and making those types of design decisions. I also adored the idea of waking up to silence in the morning and not having my schedule dictated by anyone’s needs but my own. I also adored that Benjamin absolutely demanded that I get a mani-pedi and put my feet up for at least a little while.

Don’t get me wrong. I also adore my husband and child. But I think it goes without saying that a day or two away (or, even better, at home!) can be just what the doctor ordered. My brain, and my body, needed a rest. And this 3 day weekend gave me that, and so much more.

Friday afternoon while the boys were driving north I was able to reorganize a closet that has been causing me a lot of angst because our cleaning supplies were previously stored within Owen’s reach. The weekend hadn’t even started and I was already feeling proud of what I’d accomplished.

Saturday morning I “slept in” until 7:30am. It felt glorious. After 8 hours of shopping (and going to Home Depot, Lowe’s, HomeGoods, back to Lowe’s and back to Home Depot), I had selected and purchased everything on our list for the basement renovation (no small feat) and a few things that I needed to get the nursery from storage closet to cute space where I want my baby to sleep.

That night I DIYed a mobile that I wasn’t sure I’d have time to get to. I washed everyone’s sheets and towels. I emptied the nursery closet and folded and organized all of the clothes and blankets and hats and burp cloths. In short, I was the most productive person on the planet.

And that was only Saturday.

On Sunday I worked on a half-finished quilt I’ve been “working on” (aka have had sitting on my desk and sewing table in various pieces for the last 8 months, awaiting the day that I had a few hours to devote to putting them together). I got a luxurious mani-pedi for nearly 2 hours.

I came home, pulled out the power tools and installed some curtains in the nursery. I even turned down plans with friends to just “be” in my house and soak up the peace and quiet. I ate dinner in front of the tv. I didn’t do any dishes.

Now it’s Monday morning and my To Do list continues. Benjamin and Owen will be home later this afternoon, and before they get here I need to do laundry, clean the floors and the counters and go to the grocery store for the week. You know, normal stuff. But it feels monumentally easier to get done without any distractions.

I feel rejuvenated. And rested. And I found that my brain just worked better after having a few days to myself. Usually I’m the type of person who will go to the grocery store for milk, and come home with everything but the milk. This weekend, with a little bit more time and fewer demands on my brain, I found myself remembering the milk. That gives me hope for my memory returning once my kids get a little older. Mommy Brain is not just an excuse, friends!

It was like my own, private, super-productive babymoon. And now I can’t wait for the boys to get home.

She Says… Extreme Nesting

When I was pregnant with Owen I was nesting and decorating and futzing with the nursery from the day I found out I was pregnant. I went into overdrive when I found out he was a boy, and was “ready” (in the “house is ready” sense of that word) for him so early.

This time? This time I’m a mere 6 or 7 weeks from meeting the little guy and the nursery still looks mostly like a storage closet. Hey, the crib, changing table and glider are built and in the room, so if we HAD to bring the baby home tomorrow, all I’d have to do are put on the sheet and changing pad cover (which are already washed thankyouverymuch). So the necessities are there. But the cute stuff? The details that I love dreaming about? Well, for now they are still all in my head.

But while we haven’t had the time to start accessorizing the nursery or even pick up newborn diapers at the store, we HAVE found the time to embark on a huge nesting project outside of the nursery.

EXTREME NESTING: The uncontrollable urge to start a huge construction/renovation project on one’s home while pregnant. The completion date may or may not be dangerously close to the baby’s due date. The pregnant woman who conceived of the project may or may not be physically able to help in any way due to her huge and unwieldy belly.

Apparently it’s quite a common affliction for pregnant ladies, if my friends are any indication. I posted about  our project on Facebook yesterday and countless friends responded with hilarious stories of their own extreme nesting — some good, and some miserable.

Despite the fact that our house is pretty new and has lots of space, the nursery is taking over the one real “guest room” space we had available. Since we’re expecting a lot of different family visits over this summer and in the coming years, we figured it was as good a time as any to renovate our already half-finished basement (aka Benjamin’s office) and add a guest room with bathroom. As good a time as any, that is, unless it overlaps with having a newborn at home. You know, that doesn’t sound so good at all.

Nevertheless, we broke ground on the project yesterday. The contractor took one look at the watermelon in my stomach and joked, “We better get going! That bomb’s gonna go off soon!”. Damn right, dude. Get to work.

He says 3-4 weeks, so I’m assuming 5 or 6. Which puts the completion date RIIIIIIGHT around the time I’m expecting to pop this baby out (based on the possibly false assumption that he’s going to come early like his big brother did). So everyone please cross your fingers that both of our timelines stay on course and there aren’t any surprises.

Did you experience Extreme Nesting? How did it turn out?

She Says… Sand and Sun

A little sand and sun were just what the doctor ordered.

Owen hadn’t been back in the water since last summer, and although I knew how much he loved swimming back then, I was expecting to have to do at least a little bit of reacclimating once he saw the pool/ocean.

WRONG. He couldn’t have been more excited to get in the water. I think the kid is part fish. He jumped off the edge of the pool without a care in the world, and tried over and over again to convince us to let go of him because he can swim on his own. We dunked our heads underwater and splashed and kicked. Watch out, Michael Phelps… Owen just may be headed for an Olympic gold someday.

I also thought the vastness of the ocean would deter him from being so fearless. Not so. The child barreled towards the ocean and didn’t want to stop, even when the water was well over his head.

We fully enjoyed Florida’s steamy temps and even the unborn got in on the action.

To my surprise, I didn’t swell up in the heat (like last time I was pregnant in the summer, UGH SO GROSS) and my burgeoning belly didn’t hinder any of our fun in the sun. Perhaps more importantly, as someone who can pretty much get a blistering sunburn from walking around the block, I’m impressed that I came home pretty much the same pale color that I was when I left.

Owen loved doting on his playmate (our friends’ one year old daughter) and it made my heart swell to think about him playing with a sibling someday pretty soon.

He even surprised me with how well he slept — it was our first trip using a big boy bed outside of our house. I was half-expecting midnight visits from him and was constantly worried that he was going to leave his room and open up the front door to the condo (which had a handle, not a knob, and was not able to be deadbolted), but he did great and stayed in his bed when he was supposed to. Aside from a few little attitude-y outbursts (hey, he is 3 after all), Owen was a joy.

And now, back to reality… a billion emails in my inbox and more work than I can possibly finish in a 3 day work week. Sigh.

She Says… Enjoying the Now

I feel like I write so often about the hard parts about having a toddler. The annoying things. The behavioral challenges. The “problems”. So, this Mother’s Day, I just stopped thinking about the little things I want to change/correct/alter/fix, and the milestones I’m looking forward to in the future, and just enjoyed where we are right now.

We’re in a sweet, sweet spot right now. Owen is a doll.

Sure, we have our outbursts of “NO!” and tantrums and tears. But overall? Overall he is hilarious. And cooperative. And follows the rules. And eats and sleeps like a champ. He has opinions, but is beginning to understand compromise. He’s charming. And smart. The connections his little brain is making about the world surprise me every day. His voice melts me.

It was a sweet, sweet Mother’s Day. And the littlest one in my belly made it all the sweeter.

I know things are about to change a lot for our family. But I couldn’t be happier about the timing of the wee one joining our family and the little person Owen is turning out to be.

I am so thankful to be their mother.

She Says… A Little Scare and Getting Ready for You

My little acrobat/soccer player/drummer,

We had a little bit of excitement last Friday. Last week was a long, LONG week. Daddy was traveling and I was working days and nights and Owen was, well, being two years old. I was so ready to just put my feet up after I tucked Owen into his new(ish) big boy bed. But I couldn’t quite shake this feeling I was having. Like something wasn’t right.

I won’t go into too much detail about what I was experiencing, because when you get older you’ll read this letter and be all, “Eww, Mom. That’s so GROSS.”, but let’s just say I was worried that my amniotic fluid may have been, uhh, coming out before the right time. I called the doctor and she told me that the only way to diagnose such a thing was to have a test done, and although chances were low that that’s what was going on, I had to go immediately to the hospital to be sure. So, no time for putting my feet up. I had to call a babysitter (who thankfully lives across the street) and head to the hospital solo. Bottom line: It wasn’t that. After a couple hours of monitoring and a quick test, we were on our way back home. Phew.

Side note: After the nurse hooked you up to the monitor, she would come back every once in a while and marvel at just how active you were. I still can’t believe it’s possible, but you’re even stronger and more active than your brother was. You were kicking and flipping and totally showing off for her, forcing the monitor to make sounds like a whale underwater that were even louder than your heartbeat. She also showed me the spikes on the screen that showed your brain activity. Apparently you were showing signs of neural development a few weeks ahead of your age. Little smarty pants. Your movements are so forceful that I’ve been watching them from the outside for several weeks, and recently you’ve even jolted my whole body with your movements (especially in the middle of the night!). With Owen I remember a clear pattern of awake/sleeping times. With you, it seems you’re almost always awake and moving. I may very well have my hands full if you keep that up once you come out.

Our little excursion to the hospital may have been short and a false alarm, but do you know what it did for me? It completely changed the way I think about you.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been thinking about you for 30+ weeks already. But something changed when I realized that if I was having the issue I thought I was having, I would have had to come to terms with the idea of meeting you much sooner than I expected. As in, you are A PERSON. And you are coming, whether we’re ready or not.

On the way home from the hospital my brain went into overdrive. You’re coming. In 10 weeks (or only 8 weeks if you’re on your brother’s time schedule… or sooner if you really want to catch me off guard…). While on some level I’ve been procrastinating because I know that babies really need very little when they come home from the hospital (really just diapers… and they even send you home from the hospital with some of those), now it’s time to kick it into high gear.

I’m sorry to say it, but your nursery has looked more like a storage closet than a bedroom for the last 20 weeks. A place where I dumped clothes and toys that Owen didn’t need anymore, but I knew we’d need again someday soon. Even the crib and changing table were just pushed in and left there when we switched Owen into his big boy bed.

But now, it’s time. Yesterday I washed 4 loads of teeny tiny baby laundry that have been packed in boxes in our attic since we moved. I nearly got high off of the smell of the baby detergent, completely overwhelmed by the memories of Owen’s early days. I cleaned baby seats and swings and carriers. I folded swaddles and receiving blankets. I opened boxes labeled “Baby Bottles” and unzipped my breast pump bag (which I promptly zipped back up again and tucked in the back of the closet — PTSD from the nursing issues I had with Owen) and flipped through books filled with advice about how to survive the first days, weeks, months. And I did it all thinking of you, as a little person, who we’re going to meet really, really soon.

I couldn’t be more excited. But can you make me a deal? Stay in there for at LEAST 8 more weeks so I can get even more ready for you. I know you don’t need me to sew curtains or stick little decals on the wall of your room, but it certainly would help me feel more calm and prepared for when you arrive. You do, however, need a carseat, and that’s still buried in the basement somewhere.

We’re getting there.

I’m so excited to meet you. And I can’t wait to learn all of the ways you will continue to surprise me, like you did last Friday. In the meantime, think about taking a nap or two, mmmkay little guy? I’m exhausted just by feeling you bounce around in there all day long.

I love you. More than you may ever really know.
Mommy

She Says… Needlephobia

Since my gestational diabetes diagnosis I’ve gone through the various stages of grief:

• Denial. No, I don’t have diabetes. So many of my blood glucose levels were LOW (even crazy low) during testing. Maybe the doctor just didn’t look at my whole medical history. This diagnosis just isn’t right.
• Anger. I have an incredibly healthy diet and I exercise more than most people I know (even the ones who aren’t pregnant). How can this be possible? Why me? Why now?
• Bargaining. Here’s what I’ll do — I’ll rock the first week of blood testing and then maybe the endocrinologist will take back the diagnosis when he sees how low my numbers are. If I just follow the doctor’s recommendations, I bet they’ll realize I don’t have diabetes after all.
• Depression. I’m sad about the diagnosis. I’m sad that I can’t just open up the refrigerator and have a snack without calculating carbohydrates and checking my food log to see what I’ve already eaten today. I’m a huge baby about needles and am SO sad I have to prick my fingers 4 times a day to check my blood glucose. I’m sad I actually HAVE to workout on a schedule instead of choosing to do so.
• Acceptance. You know what? It’s going to be ok. So many people deal with so much worse. Heck, I’ve dealt with so much worse (hello, infertility, miscarriage and celiac disease!). This is just an opportunity to make sure I stay as healthy as possible for the remainder of my pregnancy, and hey, maybe it will keep my overall weight gain low. Win, win.

I know, I know. I sound totally melodramatic… but I also think my reaction is very normal. Gestational diabetes can be scary, and can make you feel guilty (unnecessarily) and sad about not being able to just… eat like a normal person (particularly at a time when you want to be eating all the food, all the time). It sucks. But, it’s also totally manageable by diet, or a combination of diet and medication, and will be, hopefully, temporary. I keep reminding myself that plenty of people deal with a diabetes diagnosis for their entire lives, so surely I can get over myself for the next three months. Yes? Yes.

I met with a nutritionist yesterday to go over the dietary recommendations for gestational diabetes. To be completely honest, I was sort of annoyed by having to go to the nutritionist in general because I pride myself on being incredibly knowledgeable and proactive about my diet. Especially since Benjamin’s celiac diagnosis, I am hyper-aware of the foods I put in my body and make a Herculean effort to make the healthiest choices for me and my family. In short, I didn’t think I needed no stinkin’ nutritionist. (Bad attitude, I know).

I have been keeping a food log since last Friday and we spent a long time talking about how I generally eat. I was very proud when she said that I was probably the healthiest eater she will council all year. That said, I still had/have a lot to learn about the gestational diabetes diet! It’s not a weight-loss diet, or about eating more veggies or less meat or no bread, or even about reducing processed foods and eating more whole foods (which is the basis of my personal philosophy). It’s just about making sure I’m tracking carbohydrates so I don’t exceed certain levels, and defining the threshold of carbs that spikes my individual blood sugar in an unhealthy way. Thankfully it seems I really don’t have to adjust my diet much at all to adhere to the recommendations. Phew.

But I do have to prick my finger to get a blood sample 4 times a day.

Despite the fact that I have withstood countless blood draws and injections and uncomfortable procedures in the name of getting pregnant, and even pushed a 7+ pound child out of a tiny hole in my body, the thought of sticking myself with a needle makes me weak in the knees.

I am SUCH a baby about needles. (Remember when I had to get over that to try acupuncture?). As a kid (and, ok, a teenager… and a young adult…), I would, without fail, keel over when getting blood drawn at the doctor’s office. I learned to tell them I was a fainter up front so they could lay me back in the reclining chair before they ever got the needle out. Thankfully I’ve outgrown this, but I do still avert my eyes when they pull out the needle. Ew.

So on Tuesday I met with a nurse to learn how to use my glucose meter (aka finger pricker) and have been pricking my fingers 4 times a day since then. Though I’m getting a little bit more comfortable, it still gives me the heebie jeebies. Every time. Yes, the needle is tiny. And yes, it’s just a drop of blood. But OH it makes me cringe. The plan is to check levels for 2 weeks and track them with a detailed food log, and then meet with an endocrinologist to analyze the results at that point.

It’s a LOT of work (remembering to take my level first thing in the morning while I’m getting Owen up and ready for school, and then remembering to set the 1 hour timer on my phone after every meal, and then remembering to log everything I eat and when I ate it and how I felt?!). But it’s all for a good cause. Healthy baby, healthy mama.

And I haven’t passed out yet.

She Says… Babies

Thank you all for the happy thoughts you sent my way after last week’s whiny post. A weekend of sunshine did me good and I’m feeling like myself again.

On top of that, Owen’s little fever turned out to be nothing and he seems to have emerged from whatever it was that was causing him to act like a little monster last week. I don’t know if it was a bug he was fighting or lack of sleep due to being excited about his bed or what, but I’m just thankful it is over now. And, in its wake, it seems to have left an exceptionally sweet child whose capacity for playing by himself has doubled and whose behavior could not be better. Phew. I guess those kinds of developmental jumps are worth the painful week? I guess? I’m still not sure why they seem to be so pronounced with Owen, and only in retrospect do I see what caused all of that ridiculous fussing and terrible behavior.

Owen is super excited to be a big brother. He’ll often bring up things like, “I’m going to teach my baby brother to eat” or “I want to touch my baby brother’s toes” or “I’m going to bring him toys to hold” out of the blue. Recently this excitement has manifested itself as an obsession with babies.

He LOVES babies.

At school a few weeks ago, when the kids were still in their snowsuits, there was a little girl standing, stuck, crying on the playground. Owen’s teachers tell me they turned around and he was over next to her, patting her on the back and saying, “It’s ok. It’s ok.”. Sob.

And he’s always had a thing for hugging our friends’ babies (whether they liked it or not!).

When I arrived at school to pick Owen up on Friday, the mom of one of his friends was there with her newborn. The baby was crying in his stroller and as soon as he heard that little cry, Owen dropped his toy and came running from across the playground. He climbed up onto the stroller and started patting his foot, crooning, “S’ok. Why are you crying?” in this little sing-songy voice. He patted the baby’s head SO GENTLY (like, for real gently… which both amazed me and terrified me, because one can never tell when that gentle touch is going to turn not-so-gentle…) and dug the baby’s pacifier out of his blankets. Owen stuffed the paci in his mouth (backwards, but it didn’t seem to matter) while asking, “You want this?” over and over again.

I nearly cried. It was just about the sweetest thing. Thankfully the mother didn’t mind Owen’s little hands all over her baby (I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did!) and she praised him for being so gentle. I could barely tear Owen away to go home. He was in love.

Then, over the weekend we hung out with our friends who have a little guy who is about 15 months old. He toddled towards the parking lot (nowhere near the cars, but in that general direction) and Owen ran up to him and shouted, “Don’t walk! Cars won’t see you!” in an effort to keep him safe. Owen walked next to his little friend and put his arm around his shoulders. Buddies. Oh so sweet, until that arm-around-the-shoulders move made them both fall down, and Owen tried to pick him up by his head/neck. Clearly it came from a place of love and trying to help the kid up, but we have some lessons to learn about how to handle other kids. Gulp.

I’m beginning to see what kind of big brother Owen may be. Head over heels in love. Overly affectionate. Super gentle until he’s super NOT gentle. Protective.

We’ll have to watch him like a hawk.

Still, it makes my heart swell to watch him love on babies. I’ll have to remember this the next time I have to sign an incident report for him beating up a friend at school.

She Says… The “D” Word

It’s been a week, friends. And I don’t mean that in a good way. And, coming off of last week, I was really in need of an easy, catch-up week.

I haven’t written much this week, because, well, my Mama taught me that if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I’ve been so focused on just doing what I need to do to make it to the next day that I’ve barely had time to look up. I recently got a promotion at work, so in addition to my already very busy days, I am also now leading a team of new people. I’m navigating new responsibilities without being able to give up the old ones, and it’s been exhausting. A great opportunity, to be sure, but exhausting. On top of that, the marathon bombing craziness threw off my schedule and eliminated a few days of work due to building closings and lockdowns and a general lack of focus on anything but breaking news. I counted on this week to catch up and get myself back in order. But instead, Owen got sent home from school with a fever on Wednesday along with a note that said that several kids in his class have Hand, Foot & Mouth Syndrome, so to be on the lookout for that. LOVELY. Of course, as usual, this came on a day when I HAD to be at the office running a training program and delivering a 3 hour training presentation to a packed room. Stressful, to say the least. Not to mention that this all came on the heels of a period of Benjamin traveling more than he has been home, so I’ve been feeling… overwhelmed.

That would normally be enough to stress a person out out. Even a person whose stress threshold is usually quite high. But no, the last piece of complicating news came yesterday, right in the middle of my 3 hour presentation.

I have gestational diabetes.

Remember when I failed the gestational diabetes screening test a few weeks ago, and then had a weird hypoglycemic response to the 3 hour? Well, since I am at high risk for gestational diabetes due to having polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS), my doctor/midwife team wanted me to be tested twice. Once early (which I did around 23 weeks), and once at the “normal” time of 28 weeks, which is where I am now. They didn’t want to put me through the stress of doing the 3 hour test again since my body kind of freaked out the last time, so we opted to do a two hour test instead.

I took it Wednesday morning (trapped in the lab waiting room with spotty internet for 2 hours, feeling pukey, while I wanted/needed to be catching up on work…) and the results came back yesterday. High.

Given my weird history with this test and erratic blood sugar levels in general, they are classifying me as having glucose instability and treating me for GDM. That means finger pricks to check blood glucose levels before and after eating, following a strict diet and exercise routine, regularly seeing an endocrinologist and nutritionist until this baby makes his arrival, and increased monitoring of him prior to that point.

So… I’m here. But I don’t have anything nice to say, so I’m not saying much at all.

The silver lining? Owen’s fever stayed really low and hasn’t seemed to turn into Hand, Foot & Mouth or anything worse than a slightly elevated temp. He’s back at school this morning and my fingers are crossed that he stays there, healthy and happy, until the end of the day.