Self Care and "Of Mice and Men"
Evidently I'm one of those people that has to get 2x4'd by God to get a point across. I was hospitalized this weekend with mild diabetic ketoacidosis. While ANY level of DKA is dangerous, I'm grateful that mine was caught right as it was beginning and not later on.
I laid down Thursday night not feeling too well, but thought I'd overeaten or just eaten something that was too rich for my stomach. Jeff woke the next morning to head to work around 7 and I still was feeling extremely "off", but figured it was just gas (lol I figure I'll blame pregnancy gas for as long as I can milk it) or something else minor. I went back to sleep only to wake up 2 hours later VIOLENTLY ill. I'll spare you the the details, but I spent the next several hours vomiting every 2-2.5 hours. (Just to put in perspective just how sick I was, I can count on one hand the number of times in my life I have been sick enough to vomit. Even with the flu, I tend only to get the aches, chills or fever, but never the full blown illness.) By 3:30 that afternoon, I told Jeff I thought we should call the doctor, more specifically the OB, because it felt like I was starting to contract as well. Dr. S. told us to go immediately to labor and delivery (which, just for reference, if you are past 20 weeks and it's not something REALLY mild that can be handled in the office, they ALWAYS send you to L&D) to be assessed.
Of course, all of the worst case scenarios were running through my head. "We were supposed to have 5 more weeks to prepare for this... It can't be time to deliver NOW...?" "I haven't felt the baby move much in the last 36 hours...what if s/he has already passed and this is my body starting to purge the remains?" Jeff sat calmly by my side in the waiting room, holding my hand and keeping cold compresses on my neck - he was a Job friend. Not the ones who encouraged Job to curse God and die, but the ones who were just there. Didn't have to say a word, but were just there for Job. I love him so much.
They got us into an observation room and hooked up all the monitors for a standard non-stress test on the baby. Being that our baby has a terminal diagnosis, we do not do the standard NST's that typically start around 30 weeks for most women, so this was the first one we'd had and the nurse informed us that it didn't look good at all. We could hear the huge fluctuations in heart tone with our precious angel (they'd go from the 140's down to the mid 70's in a matter of seconds and stay there for a long while before slowly trying to climb again) and there was such little movement... After about 30 minutes, and a couple of enormous blood pressure spikes from me due to hearing the distress our baby was in, Dr. S. met with the nurses, informed them of the type of diagnosis we had and had them turn off all fetal monitoring. After lab results came back on the blood draw and urine specimen that were taken, Dr. S. came in and talked with us, confirming the diagnosis of DKA.
Then he made a statement that I'll never forget as long as I live.
"From here on out, we are going to basically ignore the fact and forget that you are even pregnant...because we know how that is going to end, unfortunately. You are number one priority now, and I'm going to do everything in my power to get YOU well."
The words both hurt and brought me peace, as strange as that seems. It hurt for the obvious reasons. I AM still pregnant. I still feel my baby. My belly is still growing and expanding. Baby K is still alive in there. On the other hand... I love and trust Dr. S with my life and with the life of my baby. I know that he is a Christian and has been in prayer over this with us. I know that he would never say something to be hurtful or crass. He would only speak the truth to me. So really...I kind of felt closure like I haven't before. And somewhere deep down a new resolve started. I was going to get ME better.
He had me admitted for severe dehydration and to try to get my BGL numbers to come down into safe ranges. After 3 bags of IV fluid and numerous glasses of water, a renal sonogram to rule out kidney stones and a meeting with the dietician later, I was able to go home. Jeff and I had a long talk while I was in the hospital and have opted for me to find a different primary care/diabetic care doctor and for me to go back onto an insulin pump. I had been on one for several months over a year ago, but my primary care doc didn't work with insulin pumps directly and so I basically couldn't talk with her about my diabetic care at all.
Anyway, I digress... The whole weekend and the events it contained got me to thinking about what things I personally need to do in order to be ready to try again - physically, emotionally, mentally...
I'm going to list them in a separate post to follow immediately after this one. I figure that way, I have a place I can go back to and reference to see where my progress lies and if I'm really ready to try again. Some of it I can start now and some will not be even conceivable until after Baby K has arrived and either fights or goes home to her Father. As long as there is a plan in place, I know I have a direction to go...then again, "The best laid schemes of mice and men / Go oft awry." So I leave this post praying for the peace that passes all understanding that no matter what plans I make that may not work out as I'd planned and prayed, God is going to keep me on track and keep me in His hand.
I laid down Thursday night not feeling too well, but thought I'd overeaten or just eaten something that was too rich for my stomach. Jeff woke the next morning to head to work around 7 and I still was feeling extremely "off", but figured it was just gas (lol I figure I'll blame pregnancy gas for as long as I can milk it) or something else minor. I went back to sleep only to wake up 2 hours later VIOLENTLY ill. I'll spare you the the details, but I spent the next several hours vomiting every 2-2.5 hours. (Just to put in perspective just how sick I was, I can count on one hand the number of times in my life I have been sick enough to vomit. Even with the flu, I tend only to get the aches, chills or fever, but never the full blown illness.) By 3:30 that afternoon, I told Jeff I thought we should call the doctor, more specifically the OB, because it felt like I was starting to contract as well. Dr. S. told us to go immediately to labor and delivery (which, just for reference, if you are past 20 weeks and it's not something REALLY mild that can be handled in the office, they ALWAYS send you to L&D) to be assessed.
Of course, all of the worst case scenarios were running through my head. "We were supposed to have 5 more weeks to prepare for this... It can't be time to deliver NOW...?" "I haven't felt the baby move much in the last 36 hours...what if s/he has already passed and this is my body starting to purge the remains?" Jeff sat calmly by my side in the waiting room, holding my hand and keeping cold compresses on my neck - he was a Job friend. Not the ones who encouraged Job to curse God and die, but the ones who were just there. Didn't have to say a word, but were just there for Job. I love him so much.
They got us into an observation room and hooked up all the monitors for a standard non-stress test on the baby. Being that our baby has a terminal diagnosis, we do not do the standard NST's that typically start around 30 weeks for most women, so this was the first one we'd had and the nurse informed us that it didn't look good at all. We could hear the huge fluctuations in heart tone with our precious angel (they'd go from the 140's down to the mid 70's in a matter of seconds and stay there for a long while before slowly trying to climb again) and there was such little movement... After about 30 minutes, and a couple of enormous blood pressure spikes from me due to hearing the distress our baby was in, Dr. S. met with the nurses, informed them of the type of diagnosis we had and had them turn off all fetal monitoring. After lab results came back on the blood draw and urine specimen that were taken, Dr. S. came in and talked with us, confirming the diagnosis of DKA.
Then he made a statement that I'll never forget as long as I live.
"From here on out, we are going to basically ignore the fact and forget that you are even pregnant...because we know how that is going to end, unfortunately. You are number one priority now, and I'm going to do everything in my power to get YOU well."
The words both hurt and brought me peace, as strange as that seems. It hurt for the obvious reasons. I AM still pregnant. I still feel my baby. My belly is still growing and expanding. Baby K is still alive in there. On the other hand... I love and trust Dr. S with my life and with the life of my baby. I know that he is a Christian and has been in prayer over this with us. I know that he would never say something to be hurtful or crass. He would only speak the truth to me. So really...I kind of felt closure like I haven't before. And somewhere deep down a new resolve started. I was going to get ME better.
He had me admitted for severe dehydration and to try to get my BGL numbers to come down into safe ranges. After 3 bags of IV fluid and numerous glasses of water, a renal sonogram to rule out kidney stones and a meeting with the dietician later, I was able to go home. Jeff and I had a long talk while I was in the hospital and have opted for me to find a different primary care/diabetic care doctor and for me to go back onto an insulin pump. I had been on one for several months over a year ago, but my primary care doc didn't work with insulin pumps directly and so I basically couldn't talk with her about my diabetic care at all.
Anyway, I digress... The whole weekend and the events it contained got me to thinking about what things I personally need to do in order to be ready to try again - physically, emotionally, mentally...
I'm going to list them in a separate post to follow immediately after this one. I figure that way, I have a place I can go back to and reference to see where my progress lies and if I'm really ready to try again. Some of it I can start now and some will not be even conceivable until after Baby K has arrived and either fights or goes home to her Father. As long as there is a plan in place, I know I have a direction to go...then again, "The best laid schemes of mice and men / Go oft awry." So I leave this post praying for the peace that passes all understanding that no matter what plans I make that may not work out as I'd planned and prayed, God is going to keep me on track and keep me in His hand.
Praying for you for peace that passes all understanding during this heart wrenching time. I hope that you can stay as physically well as possible, and that baby K rests comfortably with her momma. God bless you all.
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