Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Yo! It's a Duel

 Day 3 asks to write about a conversation with your Doctor.
                                 Day 6 asks to write about a time you had to take the high road.

I combine both and here I go...

My first two pregnancies were complication free.  I ate whatever, drank whatever, just fed myself carbs until I was plumb happy. It was bliss. This last pregnancy wasn't like the last two.

We were so joyous to find out we were pregnant with #3 last November. Our prayers were answered.  But dealing with Type 1 Diabetes I had no clue the kind of things in store for me... Finding a specialist, dealing with insurance, landing on two Doctors, appts every week,  blood work, key tone checking, finger pricking quadrupling, carb counting like ca-raz-E!, Blood glucose logging, figuring out if I was going to use a pump vs pens, insulin resistance because of pregnancy, taking a butt load of insulin, hormones raging, waking up at least 2/3 times in the middle of the night to log glucose not to mention checking between 8/10 times during the day...just to name a few things. I mean it was the hardest thing I have ever committed to doing.

I didn't have a great Perinatologist. Well she was good at her job but lacked compassion big time. By the time I figured it out, there was no way I was changing Doctors again. Early in the pregnancy I had switched from a midwife/OB practice back to my OB who delivered my first two and just went ahead and switched specialists because I wasn't going to be around that neck of the woods anyway.

Choosing to go with the pump for the best glucose stability was a no brainier but still I had issues with keeping them stable across the board. Pregnancy and Diabetes is a whole other ball game. I  had a compassionate Diabetes Nurse clinician who worked with me to adjust the pump accordingly so that was a relief.

When I would have a few numbers that were out of range and reported to the Dr. I would "get in trouble." Every time I had an appt I dreaded the sound of her heels thundering down the hall into my exam room. On top of the fetal stress testing, fetal sonogram, and the long waiting room visits where I would sometimes experience hypoglycemia (sugar low); I had to deal with her.  She walked around that office with her ridged posture and alpha dominance. No lie!

Around 35 weeks pregnant I decided to let my specialist go because it was pointless. I dreaded the drive and seeing the specialist.  My OB could do the same tests as she and my nurse clinician could monitor the sugars. When I respectfully told her I would no longer see her, I could tell she was not happy.

This lady had control issues. For real.

She literally threatened me by saying she recommended me getting induced rather early and how I could be harming my baby by having high glucose numbers. Ugh. It took all the inner strength to exercise self control and give her a piece of my mind. But I was determined to not give her my hurt feelings. I knew! I KNEW the management of Type 1 Diabetes was very important. I didn't need her always kicking me while I was down.

But I listened quietly. There was no need to argue with the unhappy woman! By Golly, I thought because I brought her eggs from my backyard chickens she liked me! Nope.

So I had a choice get mad and sting back or respectfully bow out. I could have reported her. I could have been ulgy back. The impression I wanted to leave was a Christian one not bitter, scared, or out to justify myself. I had too much on my plate to mess with that. I took the high road. This lady could not physically do anything to me. She knew how important it was to me to not be induced before 39 weeks.  She tried to scare me. I wasn't though.
All I said to her was, "I appreciate your opinion, but my A1C has been a 6(good number in range) and I know my baby is healthy. Thank you and good luck." Then I walked out.

Nothing upset me more than when Doctors say or do things "just because of Type 1 Diabetes". I worked hard! I messed up some and no one felt worse than I. Was I careless or reckless during the pregnancy? No. So I knew I did the right thing that day.

It was a burden lifted the day I walked out!

My baby was born a healthy, perfect little butter ball! I will be sending her a Christmas card this year. Jesus loves her too!


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