Tag Archives: hypothyroidism

War of images

Have you ever felt like you were being pulled every which way and no matter what you did, you were not doing the right thing? That’s kind of how I’ve felt on this new adventure with Little Ring – image wise. Seriously, the journey towards him and the journey with him has been an honest to goodness war of images.

You see, all throughout my pregnancy I was given a hard time by doctors, nurses, acquaintances, and complete strangers for the amount of weight I was gaining (39 pounds in total and I delivered 3 weeks early. I’m not gonna lie, I looked like I had a giant yoga ball strapped to the front of me… but being called Tubs by a co-worker, not cool.) And then, shortly after Little Ring arrived, I started getting the complete opposite kind of comments on how great I looked for just having a baby; what was my secret; I must not be eating any sweet treats at all; my gawd, your baby is not even three months and you look like that… a little bitterness sprinkled throughout each of them. And at first I felt guilty, like I should still be huge, but then I thought, screw that, my metabolism rocks – that is most definitely something to celebrate!

Oh, but wait. Apparently it doesn’t rock quite as much as I thought it did…

Earlier this week I had my annual appointment with my diabetic doctor (who, by the way, I’ve had a major crush on since I was a teenager… he wears bow ties; it’s dorky cute ;)) and like clockwork he told me how great my Hga1C numbers were again, and how “off their rockers” the pregnancy doctors I dealt with were for persistently giving me a hard time about my weight gain. “How many other patients could they possibly have that were bringing back consistent 5.6, 5.9, 5.5 numbers?”

But, he said, that thyroid of yours is working overtime.

Apparently the dose for my under-active thyroid, which I’ve been battling for 17 years, has been a bit on the high side, which, he said, can cause rapid weight loss. Hmm…

Funny, when I was at my GPs office the other day I noticed a poster on the wall about how hypothyroidism (which is what I have) is a common post-pregnancy side effect that’s often mistaken for postnatal depression. And here I am going the complete opposite way! Did I actually get a good side effect of pregnancy? Did pregnancy cure my thyroid issues? Will I finally be able to rid myself of those dang pills I sometimes forget to take?

No. In addition to rapid weight loss, an overactive thyroid can also cause breast milk to dry up, which thankfully it hasn’t done for me, and night sweats, which, yes, I have disgustingly endured. And so now, because my dose is not the right dose, I will be starting down a new trial and error path of blood work and pills to find the perfect dose for me and my temporarily sporty thyroid gland.

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The blue pill is no longer a good pill.

But really, who’s complaining here? With 3.5 pounds to go before hitting my pre-pregnancy weight, and with all my super fancy jeans and super cute skirts fitting me comfortably – certainly not me! Hehe 🙂

The life of a pregnant T-1 chick

Thank you everyone for your congratulations and well wishes; the last couple months have been a whirlwind of excitement and trepidation… and specialists appointments. Oh man, have there been a lot of those.

In fact, it was in the ER that I first found out about the little thumb-sucking alien baby growing inside me.


Remember this?

Remember a couple months back when Mario and I were out running and the cement demons latched onto my ankles causing me to do a perfect 10.0 face first dive into the cement, and how Mario suspected a dislocated shoulder? And how, when he suggested the hospital, I completely freaked out? It’s not odd that I would freak out given that hospitals totally wig me out in general, but this time it wasn’t because of that. It was because I was worried about getting an x-ray.


A reenactment of the dive.

See, I had suspicions about something going on in my belly at the time. I hadn’t told Mario my suspicions as it was still super early and I wanted to be sure. But I did tell the docs when they checked me over. They did a test and sure enough I was preggers. Three weeks along.

I was still good to go for the x-ray, but the thing is, I was in a completely different waiting room then Mario. And so, for three and a half hours, I sat there, ready to burst with this news, but couldn’t exactly text him now could I. Can you say torture?

Or, a little foreshadowing maybe? Since then, I have been running all over the map getting myself to this doctor and that specialist and 1,000 others after.

Every two weeks, I’m required to attend the pregnancy in diabetes clinic, which consists of an endocrinologist specializing in pregnancy, dietitian, and nurse, and for the first while, I was seeing them every week. I’ve also been in to see my diabetic eye specialist, something I have to do every trimester because apparently diabetic retinopathy can present itself in pregnancy. I have to get my hemoglobin A1c tested every month to ensure BG perfection continues, as well as my thyroid, the dose of which has already been increased due to alien baby sucking all the good thyroid out of me. An obstetrician has been recommended as a result of Dear Diabetes being earmarked as high risk, and I’ve also been given advance notice of stress tests coming my way. And that doesn’t even include ultrasounds and regular visits with my GPs that specialize in pregnancy.  Oh joy.


The result of one of my many appointments: the first pic of our little thumb-sucking alien baby.

Seriously, it’s like the world thinks if you have Type 1 and are pregnant, life stops. You don’t work, you don’t have commitments, you don’t have a social life, nothing – except a wide open calendar to fill with specialists appointments!

Disease up for grabs

Diabetes, YOU SUCK!!! It’s not often you’ll hear me whining about my disease, sure it’s not the most fun disease to have, and it is a bit of an inconvenience, and as a kid I hated it, but compared to other things, it’s not the end of the world, so I try and make the best of it. I mean it’s not going away right, so there’s no real point in spilling tears over it. But, then again, there are times when the damn thing just out and guts you. And for seven months now, the knife has been poking me, jabbing me, taunting me. Today, it full on broke the skin.

Having diabetes, you’d think, would be punishment enough, that the gods would look more favourably on me when it came to other viruses and diseases because I’ve already suffered, right. Wrong. At 18, I was put on two doses of synthroid because I was one of the 5 per cent of diabetics – FIVE PER CENT!!! – who had a lethargic thyroid. Awesome. And if that wasn’t enough, today I got confirmation that I have yet another autoimmune disease thanks to my bloody diabetes. And I repeat, Diabetes, YOU SUCK!!!

One morning back in November I woke up to low blood sugars and my cheeks chewed raw, so raw, they were purple with blood-clots. I waited a couple of weeks for them to heal, but they didn’t. So I went to the dentist and he told me to wait it out. A month passed, and sores were starting to form in my mouth. Citrus, salty, minty, spicy, hot foods – even freaking toothpaste burned. I went to the doctor and he referred me to a throat specialist, who then referred me to a different kind of specialist in Vancouver, who had a six-month waitlist; I still haven’t cracked that list. I went back to my dentist and he referred me to an oral specialist, who never contacted me. I went to my childhood dentist and he prescribed a week of antibiotics that didn’t work, he then referred me to the same oral specialist as my other dentist, but this time I got in right away. That specialist thought it was oral lichen planus, but wasn’t sure. He prescribed a 5-week antibiotic mouthwash regime, which didn’t work. When I went back and saw him, he told me there was nothing more he could do, I had to suffer.

That wasn’t good enough – not when Google and my endocrinologist were both telling me that oral lichen planus, and continued irritation for that matter, can lead to cancer. I found another specialist in Richmond who specialized in oral lichen planus and mouth cancer cases. I went back to my childhood dentist and got a referral. Today, I saw the specialist. After just five or 10 minutes of talking to him, and him investigating my mouth, he confirmed that he was 98 per cent sure that I do in fact have oral lichen planus.

So what is oral lichen planus? Another bloody autoimmune disease that is attacking my cheeks making it impossible for the good cells to regrow and the cheeks to heal! Apparently my immune system went a little overboard when I chewed my cheeks raw, which is the suspected cause of the oral lichen planus. Are you freaking kidding me? Diabetes, YOU SUCK!!!