Monthly Archives: April 2012

19 weeks: The stubborn gene

The things I learned about thumb-sucking alien baby today:

  • It’s stubborn.
  • It has a beautiful spine.
  • It may have evil tendencies.
  • It’s going to be a future cyclist.
  • And it moves… thank goodness!

Today was my 18-20 week ultrasound and initially I thought I’d be going it alone as the lab is 45 minutes from Big Ring’s work. But that dear husband of mine caught the trepidation in my voice and announced a couple days ago that he’d be accompanying me.

Normally this is supposed to be an exciting, glorious time right. But for me, I’d kind of been fretting about it. See, I’ve been freaking out lately that I haven’t yet felt any kind of alien baby movement. And rightfully so! You wouldn’t believe how many people in the last three weeks (doctors, nurses, friends, co-workers, strangers) have asked if I’ve felt anything. Uhm, no. (And it’s not like I know what I’m supposed to be feeling!) So then, me being me, I started thinking something was wrong. Totally logical.

As far as I could tell I don’t think anything medical was wrong (aside from only seeing one leg) but my gawd, this kid is already showing my stubborn tendencies. It was laying on its belly, showing off its fully intact spine, and did not want to be disturbed. The lab tech tried moving me from one side to another, she put pressure down on the scopey thing rubbing cold gel all over my belly, but the kid, it was not budging. Finally, only after the tech had me pace for like five minutes, did alien baby change position.

And it was in that moment I realized we may have an evil one on our hands. Lying on its back, one side profile to us, with its tiny little hands out in front of it (all digits intact) it moved its fingers in rapid succession seemingly plotting evil. I could almost hear the “Mwahahahaha” coming out of it 😀

Caught mid evil plot.

But the best part was most definitely Big Ring’s reaction. When thumb-sucking alien baby was showing off its spine, we got a good glimpse of one of its legs (only one mind you) and my gawd it was a long one. “That’s a future cyclist!” Big Ring announced, big smile on his face, pride in his voice.

And this is what happens when Big Ring starts dreaming about a future cyclist… online shopping 😀

The state of urine

Warning: Some of you may read this post and think eww, ick, disgusting, too much information, and that’s fine if you do, because really, it is kind of grody and majorly disgusting. But keep in mind when you’re scrunching up your faces, I’m the one who’s having to go through this every two weeks – living the ick and disgust.


After 19 weeks – and several years prior – I think I may have finally discovered the trick to NOT peeing all over my hands when collecting a urine sample: go with an extremely full, ready-to-burst, omygawd-I’m-going-to-pee-my-pants bladder! The stream is much more direct.

The fact that it’s taken me this long to figure it out either shows that I’m slow, or that there’s something seriously wrong and antiquated with the current system. I’m going with the latter.

How is it that after so many decades of pee collection, the medical peeps have not yet come up with a system that doesn’t involve peeing all over one’s hands? I mean seriously, a cup, a freaking cup with an opening the size of a peep hole, and I’m supposed to get my urine in there without soiling my hands or the cup. I think not!


Some of you may think, oh her belly’s getting larger, therefore causing good aim to fly right out the window, but no, the belly can’t be blamed in this instance. Right from the get-go, for four months, I have been peeing all over my hands, hardly getting a drop in the cup. And when you’re put in a situation where you have to provide four urine samples in one week (yes, I did endure a week like that) let me just say, you don’t stray far from the soap canister.

I try getting it in the cup, oh my goodness do I ever try, but that stream does not want to cooperate. It wants to go in every which direction but the cup, and when I deny it that right, it opts for my hands and the outside of the cup instead.

And seriously, why do these places NOT provide some kind of sanitizing cloth, or wet nap, or even baby wipes to clean up the outside of the cup. I mean, you’ve got to set that thing down somewhere (Take note: it’s NOT advisable to try to hold it while getting yourself back together again) but no, there’s nothing there, so not only am I peeing all over myself, but my urinary waste is also spreading all over the bloody counters or back of the toilet! And I’m sorry, but try as I might, wetting a paper towel to wipe up the mess, that ain’t cleaning it – it’s still there!

You’d figure, given the amount of times I’ve got to pee in a cup (every two weeks at the diabetes clinic; once a month at the pregnancy doctors clinic, which will become more frequent as I progress; and once a month at the lab (I’ve all but given up on using a cup for checking my ketones every morning… I just pee straight on the strip)) I’d be an old hand at it by now, but nope, until today’s collection, I thought it was actually getting worse.

Seriously, it’s time for a better system!

And to all those who have used the washrooms after me, I do so humbly apologize if you’ve touched the counter where my pee laden cup once sat. Ewwww 😦

Hunchbacks of Diabeticland

Hiking, that’s the cure to my current state of boring, pregnancy approved exercise. While walks bore the heck out of me, and cycling is a little more challenged figuring out good solo routes from home, hiking, it’s golden.

I went on an hour and half hike up Westwood yesterday with a couple of great girlfriends who I haven’t seen in forever. I was a little nervous at first as we met first thing in the morning, right after breakfast, and I wasn’t sure how my blood sugars would handle the exertion. The first 25 minutes were straight up hills, and oh man, while I was huffing and puffing (and believe me, I was) I loved it. I felt free, like I haven’t felt since my last truly good run. I could feel the endorphins shooting through my veins, I could feel the muscles in my calves contracting, working, pushing me up further, and the sweat on my brow, it was sweat I have missed for so many months now.

AND, there was no blood sugar drama. Woohoo!

However, while I loved the hike, my ever growing boobs did not. Squished in a possibly too small sports bra for more than two hours, lets just say they were very, very angry by the end of the day. Yes folks, my breasts are growing and it doesn’t seem like they’re stopping anytime soon – much to my chagrin.

Early on, my six-year-old chest used to drive me mad – when all my girlfriends were budding growths and I was still flat as a wall; when the boys would chase the girls to snap their bras, and they’d catch me, only to discover there was no bra to snap; when I’d forget that I’d stuffed my bikini top with Kleenex before jumping into the pool – but as I grew older, I discovered the perfection of my smallness:

  • no breasts smacking into chin when running (which is a good thing!)
  • can fit into nearly any kind of top without looking slutty with obnoxious cleavage
  • no aging sag
  • and a more voluptuous look is just a padded bra away

This pregnancy, however, is majorly changing things. The lovely A cups have been replaced by freaking huge knockers! (By my standards that is) I can’t fit into any of my old bras, and have already outgrown two new ones which were purchased within the time of thumb-sucking alien baby’s growth in my belly. Not cool.

What the???

And they have absolutely no benefit to me. I thought maybe they would, maybe finally I could hide my insulin pump in the crevice of my large breasts like I hear so many other much more endowed type 1s doing. But nope, it seems they’re just not quite large enough to do that – not unless I want to start a new trend of square boobs!

Which sucks for dress-wearing season. Normally I wear my pump on my waistband or latched into the front pocket of my pants, and have no problem with that. But for dresses, without large breasts, there’s no where to discretely hide it, other than latched to the top of the dress, under a cardigan – leaving me a good ol’ type 1 hunchback!


Archie’s worst nightmare

Dear iPhone stranger named Archie,

I sincerely apologize for causing your heart to unsafely palpitate, your brow to drip with fearful sweat, and your hands and lips to shake as though they were in the middle of a California-sized earthquake. I’m sure if I were a guy, and I got a random text from an unknown sender with the subject line My 17-week belly, and this picture attached:

I’d probably be close to having a heart attack, or maybe even packing my bags in rapid succession, too. So, so very sorry.

Pregnant Princess

This afternoon I was engaged in an email conversation with a girlfriend of mine who has yet to see my oh-so-pregnant belly, and I was trying to describe to her the size of it. I equated it to the size of rancher, and then followed that up with predictions of being the size of a house in two or three months, and the size of an Aaron Spelling sized mansion by the end. She didn’t believe me. Shocking, I know! So, I figured I’d send her picture evidence.

I took a picture with my iPhone, and sent it via text. However, said girlfriend recently got a new number that I hadn’t yet programmed into my phone. So I had to type it in, and it seems I typed a 7 instead of a 6, and good ol’ Archie got the surprise of a lifetime.

Oops. Sorry Archie… but thanks for the well-mannered congrats 😉

Happy Friday the 13th!

Let the cycling season begin

You know it’s cycling season in the Princess/Big Ring household when Princess wakes up at 3:40 a.m. only to discover she’s alone in the bed, and that Big Ring has been up for hours already in preparation for the early morning viewing of Paris-Roubaix.

Apparently his brain had gone into overdrive shortly after we turned the lights off for the night Saturday, and instead of trying to shut his thoughts out, he decided to embrace them. Starting at 1:30 a.m. Big Ring went whole hog on a video project he’d been story boarding in his head for hours.

It’s not surprising really given that we were blessed with two days of sunshine this long weekend (mixed with some torrential downpour/sleet/hail) that had Big Ring in his glory atop his mistress Mademoiselle Lapierre. I kid you not, the second that sun comes out, I am lost to him. There’s hours of him solo on the road, months of him watching early morning viewings of races including the Ronde van Vlaanderen (which was pretty great this year to see all the places we rode with our beloved cousins!) Giro D’Italia, Le Tour de France, and many, many more. There’s endless mornings of him quizzing me as to who won this race or that race…

And secretly, I love it. Because his enthusiasm, his smiles, his joy at being back on the bike has a bit of a domino effect, shooting some of that same enthusiasm through my own legs. I, too, got back on the bike this weekend. Mr. Foldy that is.

Because I’ve stopped running for the pregnancy time being, and because I’m bored as hell walking briskly, I felt a change was in order. Hello Mr. Bicycle. However, I was somewhat concerned Zing would cause the aches in my lower back to go into nasty spasms, and so I opted for Foldy, which has me in a more upright sitting position than leaning over.

It’s been awhile since I was last on Foldy, about two years I think, so I needed a refresher on how to unfold/fold him back up again. But once I was on him, feeling his frame against my thighs, hearing the sing-song whir of his wheels, gripping his handlebars, caressing his gear shifters, and feeling that cool, sunny wind slapping my face with his speed beneath me, I was once again in love.

You better watch out Big Ring, because while you may have your Lappierre, I have my Foldy – and he’s a beauty 😉

‘Do you think you could be pregnant’

Happy Easter blog friends! I hope your long weekend has been filled with chocolate bunnies, colourful Easter eggs, yummy ham and stuffing (ohhhh the stuffing!) all encapsulated in a cocoon of love and happiness from family and friends.

My Easter treat to you: a story that has given me great amounts of laughter this week, while at the same time has somewhat scared the poop right out of me. This story is a story of the medical system, which on many occasions has been great for me, but at times has seriously shaken my confidence with some of the professionals in the field … like when an emergency doctor pumped me full of sugar when my blood sugars were already skyrocketing, or when a medical team gave my auntie a cocktail of crushed pills she’d never taken before, let alone seen, that subsequently caused her to go into vfib, or when I am constantly bombarded by the self-righteous stupidity of a diabetic nurse.

I was at the diabetes in pregnancy clinic earlier this week, and as per usual the first person I saw was the nurse. Now, in my month of appointments, I’d already figured she was pretty useless. I mean, seriously, trying to lecture me as to why my pancreas doesn’t work after I had just told her I’d had the disease for 25 years, are you kidding me? But this week’s appointment was the clincher.

I went into her office and she started looking at my BG numbers, and then scratched her head. Hmm, she said, you’ve got a lot a lows here. I agreed. Hmm, she said, this is a bit of a puzzle, why do you suppose you have so many lows. Trying with all my might not to roll my eyes, I told her I’d love to know. Well, she said, do you think you might be pregnant? I half chuckled. I totally thought she was kidding, witty sense of humour you know. But she actually repeated herself: I’m serious, she said, do you think you could be pregnant?

Are you kidding me? Do you not know where you work? Have you not seen the 15-pound belly I’m carting around?  It’s a PREGNANCY IN DIABETES clinic for cryin’ out loud! Seriously?

Well, at the very least, it was good for a week’s worth of laughs 😀

Now please go eat some Easter chocolate for me! I’m dying here not being able to indulge!

16 weeks: brisk and bulbous

It was bound to happen, that day was sure to come, but given my natural tendencies towards a life of blissful denial, I didn’t believe it would ever come for me. Oh how wrong I was.

Two weeks ago, my body quit running on the same day my wearable pre-pregnancy clothes stopped zipping up. Sigh 😦

Bon voyage dear running shoes…

Big Ring and I went for our last light run a couple of weeks ago and it was tougher than a run has been for me in a long time. I was winded, my legs were heavy, my tights were TIGHT, and my belly was so unbelievably uncomfortable, like cramping uncomfortable. I was fighting the demons in my head almost right from the get-go, weighing my options, hearing the words of the naysaying doctors and trying to drown them out with the pro-running doctors. But to no avail. Half way in, I begrudgingly told Big Ring to jog ahead, I’d be walking the rest of the way.

I am more than positive the cramping was nothing more than my seemingly never-ending state of constipation (sorry guys, but least you don’t have to live through it) but I did not want to take any chances. So, it’s strictly brisk walking for me.

Which it seems I need to be doing a heck of a lot more. I went to the diabetes in pregnancy clinic yesterday and discovered that I am up 15 pounds – I’m ONLY 16 weeks!!! And it’s not because I’m not eating right. I’m eating a ton of vegetables and salads, so much so Big Ring has started calling me Bugs. And while I have a great many cravings for unhealthy things like DQ strawberry milkshakes and poutine – I have yet to indulge in such a thing. Nope, my weight gain is strictly a result of the lows, which has me drinking tons of orange juice. And while one glass of orange juice here and there is fine, when you’re drinking upwards of five to six glasses a day, those are calories going straight to the belly. Oh joy.

Good thing Alien Baby and I (along with my moms) will be briskly walking in the Starbucks “Run” for Women come June 🙂