A girl, Grandmum and glucose

We celebrated Christmas a week early with my parents in Memphis, which meant a gorgeous rack of lamb, umpteen presents and lots of love all in a candlelit Colonial Williamsburg setting. This is not me painting a pretty picture of the quaint life of retirees. My parents really live in a cottage covered in ivy, really don’t have a microwave, and really prefer dinner parties illuminated by fireplaces and candles rather than electricity, which “can cast an ugly light on guests.” Wait, what are you saying, Mom? Please don’t get me wrong, I love her style and her stances. I could bottle the strength of her opinions and sell them as high octane fuel for the faint of heart. Or our government could use them to blow people away without ever seeing it coming. In fact, a very obvious God-made part of this journey has been that I’ve never been closer to my mom. She’s been loving and supportive, and if it makes her feel better to feed me a second lunch from time to time, I’m happy to help her satisfy her motherly instincts.

Then we set out for Christmas in New Jersey. We broke the 17-hour drive into two days: 14.75 hours from Memphis to Harrisburg, PA in my 2001 Camry with 190,000 miles on it – you know, our good car. It was, um, uncomfortable. But I alternated between sweets and salts and waters and bathrooms, and we made it. I only tried to crawl under the seat once and I never swung at Kevin who was singing songs and reassuring me the whole way. We have two labs. The good one (Kevin’s dog Maisy) comes with us. She gets the back seat with fluffy toys and a sheet protecting the car seats and cushioning her ride. The enthusiastic one (my dog Samson) stays at the kennel in Memphis. Sammy has too much heart to fit in the car much less in my in-law’s home. Like the Dixie Chicks, he needs Wide Open Spaces. 

Day Two of our Holt Family Road Adventure – keep in mind we’ve done this for the last three years – we pick up Kevin’s 97-year-old grandmother in Mechanicsburg, PA and make the final three-hour drive into New Jersey. I wanted to be fresh for this leg of the trip – I hadn’t seen my in-laws since our baby news, and I wanted them to see that I was Ok – clean, well rested, and bright-eyed. Kevin finally had a Christmas carol singing partner in “Grandmum” and someone who appreciated, no was enraptured in giddy joy by, his Paul McCartney impersonations. I was on the back seat with Maisy and some luggage. This year the walker fit in the trunk, a very good thing. Grandmum is doing great – a constant inspiration to us. She is sharp as a tack, independent, ready for anything, and makes me smile to hear her stories. Her only sign of aging, other than bones that have bent with time, is her vision. When Kevin turned on the windshield wipers to wash off the bugs, she began a 10-minute process of unfolding and putting on her clear plastic hair cover. It wasn’t raining and we were still an hour from home, but she was going to be ready – and she didn’t need help. Let’s face it: her generation does not take chances when it comes to having perfectly placed hair. She also brought her own water bottle – to soothe her singing throat and minimize stops. I love her. During our visit, she put me to shame – fewer potty breaks, better outfits, and more energy than I could muster. I got to eat all the chocolates with nuts though! That’s one point for  Big Mama, still in my PJs at 10 am while she had gotten up who knows how early to not only be dressed for breakfast but to put on a Christmas pin to match her earrings for the day. LOVE HER. She is such a wonderful role model for how to live at any age – with a patient and positive attitude, spirited sense of humor, and do-it-yourself determination.

Christmas was a blast – family, food, fun. My Bonus Parents are the best - greatest huggers of all time; the most generous and gracious hostesses. We enjoyed good fellowship with friends and honorary aunts and uncles and their grown kids and their kids, too. Uncle Kevin had tons of fun wrestling with our nephew and niece. The days were filled with laughter and relaxation, and the nights were filled with steak, scallops, chicken parm, homemade meatballs, standing rib roast, candied bacon, chocolate pie, homemade cookies, sister’s FAMOUS cupcakes, and hugs, hugs, and hugs. We shared some really special moments the more loved ones I got to see and share our Ok-ness with. In short, I’ve never felt so loved. Good folks abound in the Garden State. They are my family and I adore them.

Next thing I know we’re heading 17 hours southward, broken into two days, just in time to celebrate New Year’s Eve with my Love. Lobster tails, taters, and we were GOING to have sparkling cider for me and crème Brule for dessert. But (insert sound of screeching brakes here) I went cold turkey on sugar because my nurse called that afternoon to say I failed my glucose test. I can’t say that I was surprised. Sugar is my friend. Roundness is my specialty. Every day I wake up, I achieve a New High Score – not that I care, but for some reason the nurses keep tally of that sort of thing. And when you have an ultrasound every two weeks, there’s no shortage of data to pile up. (Seems like my weight chart was like that little yodeling hiker on the Price Is Right who merrily chugs up the mountain and you hope he stops before he falls off the cliff so the nice lady who doesn’t respect personal space can win a toaster. I mean, that’s what I’d envision; it’s not that I’ve ever watched that show.) Plus, it was Lady Santa season. Plus the winter look is to layer. Plus I get hungry at night and even Cheerios has 1 gram of sugar in it. Plus maternity clothes are wonderful and I may never give them up. Plus I would have offended holiday hostesses from Memphis to “the City” if I didn’t sample a selection of their lovingly prepared treats. I am Southern; hear me hum as I fully enjoy a yummy something.

But, I really didn’t want gestational diabetes, so I purged on oatmeal, blueberries, salmon, raw almonds, salad, beans, walnuts and Greek yogurt for exactly seven days until my next test. Fortunately for my planner brain, this coincided with January 1, the “NEW YEAR!!” so we called it a week-long detox and Kevin joined me in every step except the skipping alcohol part. He is human after all. Instead of snacking, I also reorganized practically every storage space in our entire 1,165-square-foot castle, including our t-shirt drawer, which doubled capacity without getting rid of a single shirt. A few of you will find that last sentence to be the one thing you want to email me privately about. And I can’t blame you. The tip is that good.

It’ll sound crazy but I enjoyed the four-hour full test at my doctor’s office. You have to understand how awesome my doctor is. He came to sit with me and visit for awhile. He showed me a funny youtube video. He told me about his fan rage during a recent NFL game. He is wonderful and genuine and kind. Another God note: I didn’t realize it until a couple of weeks before Christmas but my doctor was really, really good friends with my uncle who passed away from cancer July 5, 2012. My uncle was also an OBGYN and my doctor was so close that he helped care for my uncle during his in-home hospice care in his final weeks/days. I can’t tell you how often my Mom has said she wished she could talk to her brother about our baby situation. So when she found out the two extremely well respected professionals were beyond tight, she felt like she had the reassurance that she had longed for. Thank you, Lord! God knows the full story before we have a clue. I see that time and time again.

When I told our doctor whose niece I was, his immediate response was “You’re going to make me cry” as he leaned against a counter for instinctive support. He had already been incredibly kind to us for months when he didn’t know our connection. Now he knew who he was serving and it truly affected him. He is solid gold to me. And his staff is just as awesome as he is: loving, caring, supportive, often flat-out hilarious too….. He’s in private practice, which means he maintains a small, clean, personal waiting area – unlike the puppy mill waiting rooms I’ve been in before where if you’re crying, they charge you per tissue and announce over the loudspeaker something like: ‘the crying area is down the hall and to your right, but first please follow the flags to the billing window on your way to sign the waiver acknowledging you may or may not have future crying that would activate the Multiple Tissue Pricing Plan.’

So in short, I would’ve been fine in the waiting area with his other patients, but it is a four-hour test with blood drawn each hour, so they let me hang out in a private room where I could watch videos, talk on the phone, and be insulated from other new mommies who ask well intentioned questions that lead to my awkward answers. Long story short, I passed the full test – thanks to God and the salmon He created because I had some serious sugar to counter physically. That same day we had an ultrasound like normal except this time they discovered two new things about our baby: possible gender and possible life expectancy change. The happier news is that the umbilical cord was lying behind our baby’s legs so the blood in the cord allowed for our nurse to see a little bit more clearly between baby’s legs. It didn’t look like a boy so they think she’s a girl! Of course, we still have no amniotic fluid; therefore no crystal clear determination, but this is good enough for me to refer to her as a she from now on. I didn’t like saying “it” and grocery store strangers first question is always “what’s the gender?” so it’s nice to have a one-word answer now that hopefully won’t lead to more Stranger Danger questions.

The second piece of new information also came from our ultrasound. This time, for the first time, it showed our baby has started to collect fluid in her abdomen – at 28.5 weeks. We will learn much more at the next two-week ultrasound because the abdominal fluid will have either: disappeared, stayed the same, or increased possibly filling other parts of her. That last option is what I don’t want because I want to make it to late March for a live birth. I want just a few minutes to say hello before saying goodbye – until I see her in heaven, of course. I know God will present the path for us that IS best for us, and I know His will may not align with my desire for a live birth. I’m Ok with that because He knows what I can and should handle and/or experience, and He will protect me – even from myself and my naturally sinful and often wayward heart. My entire life is already written on God’s heart so what counts is how I respond to His actions, not what those actions actually are going to be. Time will tell and God will provide – each minute of each day in a manner that is best. Sometimes people pray for what they want and forget the “Thy will be done” part of every prayer. Please don’t forget that part if you’re out there praying for us and our baby. Sometimes well meaning Christians think faith equals no pain. But if you do “look it up, dear” (awesome ‘80s TV encyclopedia ad reference), the text is clear that suffering is a normal part of the Christian walk. It’s a given, not a maybe. It’s different for everyone and comes in all shapes and sizes. You may not hear about it if you’re not entrenched in a community of believers. But I garrre-ruuuunnn-tee (now I can’t stop making TV references) you’ll realize it once you really get to know other Bible believing Christians. It’s there just under the surface waiting for someone to ask a follow up to the polite preliminary “How are you?”

Keep in mind 28 weeks is the average time in which this kidney condition is diagnosed. So it makes sense that we’d notice physical changes about this time (28.5 wk ultrasound). What’s miraculous is that we received an accurate diagnosis a full two months ago – at 20 weeks. God gave us a huge heads up to process things and plan and figure out what not do to. Previously, the nursery was going to be ready by Jan. 31 and there was going to be a joint shower with another friend in New Jersey over the holidays. These things didn’t happen because God told us so early and with such clarity. We are incredibly thankful for that blessing and for the time we could spend with our little one together – starting at 20 weeks instead of what would have been even more shocking – finding out the initial diagnosis at 28 weeks, or even later. We’re doing our parenting now – singing songs, talking, laughing and reassuring our little one that she is Ok and she is loved. That time has blessed us also with ongoing and sound advice from other parents who’ve lost infants in a similar way. More on that another time.

That’s it, folks. January 7 was the fourth anniversary of Super K and my first date. (I’ll spare you from our sappiness. Hmm, that rhymes with happiness. Shucks.) January 8 was the friend-who-set-us-up’s birthday as well as, of course, Elvis’ birthday. Have a wonderful season of organization, warm fireplaces, full hearts and praises for God’s mercies – new each day!!

“The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore.

- Psalm 121:8