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04/02/2007: "Creeping ever onward"
I'm up to 12 units of insulin with no response at all. My fasting numbers are exactly the same as before I started stabbing myself of an evening and now my daytime numbers are beginning to creep upwards. Not alarmingly, but there it is. This is a frustrating and annoying condition to say the least. While I know that the perinatal NPs are doing their job, I find it irritating to have to recite everything I ate each time I got a high reading.
"And what was your evening snack the night before you got a fasting 94?"
"Slice of toast and teaspoon of peanut butter."
"And the night before you had the fasting 112?"
"Same thing."
That stops 'em every time. They really want me to be able to control this with diet, but it seems that I can only do that during the day, and in order to do even that I can only eat from the following delightful list: an egg, some lean meat, a half a whole wheat english muffin or a half a whole wheat pita or one slice of "sawdust" toast, half a cup of beans, a salad, the occasional apple, an extremely small potato (on a good day), a quarter cup of cottage cheese, plain vegetables like zucchini or chard... I'm trying to think of other things I have eaten but almost all of them have resulted in unfavorable numbers. It is a short list, and a boring one.
And yet... as often as I sigh at the thought of another half pita and turkey snack, I'm not tempted to cheat. Well, I'm tempted but only in the theoretical "Wow wouldn't it be nice to have some pineapple with lunch" sort of way. The flash of desire for a tall glass of milk at breakfast passes quickly when I feel Dessa punch me in the kidneys. I know who this is for and since it isn't me, it's an easy thing to wipe the slate and eat my damn pita.
Things are starting to come together and become more real. It's still unthinkable to me that within a matter of weeks there will be a baby in my house that isn't going home with anyone else, but I act as if I believe it and continue setting up. The nursery is painted now, with the exception of the doorframe and windowsill, and the blinds are up. There is a large packet of diapers on the landing and a box containing 704 baby wipes (I don't understand the weird number either). A diaper bag lays nonchalantly on the arm of the sofa. There is a crib and dresser in the living room waiting for the nursery to be ready.
Everywhere I look there are tangible reminders of the baby that is coming. And, of course, there are the physical jabs, kicks, rolls and pokes of said baby. But I can't really say that I believe it. I don't know what that would mean.
Notes from a Yarn Hacker
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