a.k.a. "The World's Longest Post". If you manage to make it all the way to the end of this crazy train I call a blog post, more power, kudos, my sincerest thanks and deepest appologies to you.
("Ironic" by Alanis Morissette).
So I started this blog all gung-ho, lost 12 pounds, and fizzled. I started again, and fizzled before even getting off the ground. Rinse and repeat. Rinse. and. repeat. And then I started my crazy 30 pounds in 11 weeks challenge, lasted not even two weeks, and what do you know? Fizzle fizzle bo bizzle. (I'm in a unique mood today, can you tell?)
Last week, I was just about to write a post about how I'm guessing I'm just not ready to really get into it. How I don't really have the motivation or drive. How I'm just not really caring right now, because, unfortunately, all of those things were (and pretty much are) 100% true.
Prep for whining here... I'm tired of it. I'm tired of attempting when I'm not really whole-heartedly in it, and then failing miserably. I'm annoyed and just generally over it. And with an attitude like that, I'm pretty sure failure is eminent. Resistance is futile. Danger, Will Robinson. Which ever entertainment quote you want to put there, it pretty much means I ain't losin' no weight. I ain't getting any healthier. I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no babies.
Which is quite the delightful segue into why I'm writing this post now, instead of last week. Prep for what might possibly be TMI. I was due for my yearly with my ob/gyn, and since The Hubs and I are getting up there in age (ah, 27, I never would have guessed you'd make me feel elderly, but alas) and need to start looking into family planning, I made an appointment for us to meet. I found a new doc closer to my job, and we met her on Wednesday.
Prep for shock. I have diabetes. (Okay, maybe if you've paid attention to my rambling at all over the past 8 months, that's not a shock). Diabetes makes me a high-risk pregnant woman if I were to conceive. Like, seriously, high-risk. Not "oh, well, we'll just keep an eye on it,". More like guaranteed bed rest for months, tons of testing and monitoring, possible insulin shots, blood sugar checks at least five times a day, doctor's visits at least three times a week toward the end of the pregnancy. That kind of high-risk. Now, doesn't that sound fun? Yeah, we thought so too.
But, sensing the panic mode that The Hubs and I had painted all over our faces, she throws in this little piece of optimism: if I can maintain my A1c at 5.5 for at least two months before we conceive, I'm no longer considered a high-risk pregnancy, and my pregnancy will be just like any other pregnancy except for the fact that I'm pretty much guaranteed gestational diabetes, which she believes can easily be controlled with oral medications.
Btw, for you non-diabetics, an A1c is a blood test that basically tells you what your average blood glucose levels have been over the past 3 months. Magically. Don't ask me how it does it, because my knowledge ends there. Someone without diabetes usually has an A1c at around 5%, and someone with diabetes that is out of control might be between 10 and 25%. From what I understand, if you're at 25%, you're pretty much dead.
So basically, she's telling me what my regular doctor has been telling me for a year. I need to reverse my diabetes. How do you reverse diabetes and lower your A1c? Oh, it's simple really. Diet and exercise. Lose weight. Or, re-visit and attempt to break (again. again. again. AGAIN.) that crazy cycle of "Gung-Ho, Fizzle Fizzle Bo Bizzle". Great! Fabulous! I'll get right on that. Ugh.
So we came home from that appointment and I basically laid down in bed and cried for an hour and a half. Cried and cried and cried. She had pretty much told me that all of the hopes and dreams of not only myself, but my husband, all rested on my (completely incapable) shoulders. I have to lose weight. I have to control my blood sugar. I have to do it. And if I don't? WE can't have kids. WE can't have kids because I'm fat and lazy. No pressure or anything. I'm already feeling incapable, unmotivated, ready to retreat into fatness for a little while longer, and then this happens.
(And, yes, technically, we could get pregnant. We could have kids, but the chances of them having birth defects practically quadruples, not to mention the danger to myself and the drama of being a high-risk pregnancy. I just don't think I could live with myself knowing that it was all my fat and lazy fault if our kid was messed up and my husband had to go through all that. So, no. We can't have kids unless I get my A1c down).
Weight loss: FAIL. Kids: FAIL. Good wife: FAIL. Man, I'm really sucking these days!
So where's the light at the end of the tunnel? Where's the silver lining? Where's the Eternal Optimist that you all know and love? She's here, muffled and squirming under about 50 pounds of extra weight, excited about the prospect of being pregnant and having a baby, but just a little too jaded to go straight into "Gung-ho" again. The task before me is monumentally more real and challenging knowing what is relying upon my success. I'm sure most of you are just dying to send me that comment that says "You can do it! You have a reason now! You have motivation!" and you might be right. Hopefully this is the catalyst for me finally doing the thing that I've never been able to do.
But past failures have planted that seed of doubt, and current moods are watering it daily. I wish I were able to just forget about that little, nagging voice saying "You have failed. You always fail. You will fail. Every single time before, look what you did! This is no different". But I can't. It's there, and I'm unconvinced at the moment that I can beat it down into submission. Even for a baby.
This is not to say that I'm not going to try. Hell yes, I'm going to try. I basically have 9 months before we would like to be trying for a baby, which means about 6 months to get my A1c to an acceptable level and maintain it long enough to eliminate the extra worries of the diabetic, high-risk pregnancy. My A1c in December of 2008 was 6.7. My A1c on Friday was 6.4. It is moving in the right direction, but there is still a long way to go.
It's a long, hard road out of diabetic hell, and I just have to figure out how to get my wheels turning.
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