Okay, so we have just finished hosting the social event of the year. Well, for us, anyway.
B's birthday party went off without a hitch. We evicted the cat and squeezed 23 people into our three bedroomed terraced house. There were no arguments; everyone was amazingly helpful; and despite barely knowing each other, our guests seemed to get on brilliantly. And they ate a lot of food. Which is good because we had prepared a lot of food and then some! I am starting to think that I should keep a seperate blog just for food.
B had a wonderful day; he saw lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins; three sets of grandparents and two of his great grandparents, as well as longstanding family friends. He had SO many presents and is destined to become a train fanatic, I think. But that is certainly fine by me, just so long as he also likes science fiction too.
I was worried about T's blood sugar level today, but he was totally in control; he had three pieces of cake and was content to let it fly for one day.
What's the point of being alive if you don't live, hey?
Actually, I think I might just start to use this one for more; I forget how much I enjoy writing in between my gluts of posting.
Sunday, 26 February 2012
Friday, 24 February 2012
Happy days
Today is the second birthday of our son, B.
Two years ago, I was about 45 minutes away from delivering him and very much appreciating the copious quantities of gas and air that I was knocking back with complete abandon.
Before I continue with that, a quick rundown of the day is in order. It began before we went to bed at about 1am. T wouldn't let me wake B up to wish him a happy birthday and so, after seemingly hours of wrapping (by me), we eventually trudged off to bed. Only to get up again, in the blink of an eye (6 or so hours later).
The morning was filled with crumpet eating, coffee drinking, balloon inflating, baking, excitement, encouragement, pleading, and resignation (us); porridge eating, squash drinking, present opening, balloon bashing, present fatigue, present refusal, and box-fetishism (B). He did rather enjoy opening and playing on his balance bike, though.
After his morning nap, we took B off to buy a helmet, and then to a nearby farm shop for lunch (which he refused to eat), and then a play on some diggers in the sand pit. B had a play too.
Later on, there were Skype calls with grandparents (my mum had spent the day with us, but T's parents live too far away), and there was much excitement when CBeebies showed his birthday card.
B went to bed happy, and although we didn't manage to find time to sit down with a birthday cake (though he actually has two waiting for him), he couldn't have enjoyed the day much more without exploding.
And neither could I, either today, or two years ago.
You see, the birth of B was overdue to the tune of about a fortnight and I had to be induced. Without going into too much detail, I was lucky enough that the first 'assistance' that women in the UK tend to be given worked a treat and labour kicked off.
It was mercifully fast, and in between the bits that made memake cow-like noises wince, there was no pain at all except in the faces of passers-by as I marched around the hospital like a woman on a mission (due to being a woman on a mission). In between contractions I could easily forget that I was in labour; forgetting that I was pregnant would have been impossible, but labour was ignorable for much of the time that I was in it.
When I eventually had to stop walking and talking during contractions, I started to use techniques of hyno-birthing that I had learned during the preceding months, and which enabled me to focus. Anyway; short story shorter, B came along in under two hours, and I was lucky enough to have managed with gas and air.
Whilst I am certain that I couldn't have endured a much more intense labour without more intense anaesthesia, I thoroughly believe that my mental state helped me to birth in the way that I did.*
The way in which this related to my experience with T's diabetes is this...
I have found coming to terms with him not being able to simply 'fix' himself, or have others 'fix' him quite difficult. I guess this must be something that many people in a similar situation experience.
Knowing that something like childbirth is natural and has happened to many women before, and will happen to many women again is a great comfort. Knowing that should things progress in an unexpected, or difficult fashion, medical help would (probably - but that's another story) be available, was also instrumental in helping me to feel safe. There is help available for people with diabetes, obviously, and there is help available for complications of diabetes. But since diabetes is not something, like childbirth that is actually expected (after a fashion), I find it a whole lot more scary.
It is late, and I am rambling now. Tomorrow I shall say what I was actually trying to say.
Hopefully.
*I do of course accept that my own memory may have become altered with time, but I did write down much of my experience very soon after the fact so that I could revisit it later if I wanted to be sure of what I thought happened. I do not believe that it is a magic formula that will cure birth complications, nor that any woman should have any less medical help in childbirth than she reasonably believes she requires.
Two years ago, I was about 45 minutes away from delivering him and very much appreciating the copious quantities of gas and air that I was knocking back with complete abandon.
Before I continue with that, a quick rundown of the day is in order. It began before we went to bed at about 1am. T wouldn't let me wake B up to wish him a happy birthday and so, after seemingly hours of wrapping (by me), we eventually trudged off to bed. Only to get up again, in the blink of an eye (6 or so hours later).
The morning was filled with crumpet eating, coffee drinking, balloon inflating, baking, excitement, encouragement, pleading, and resignation (us); porridge eating, squash drinking, present opening, balloon bashing, present fatigue, present refusal, and box-fetishism (B). He did rather enjoy opening and playing on his balance bike, though.
After his morning nap, we took B off to buy a helmet, and then to a nearby farm shop for lunch (which he refused to eat), and then a play on some diggers in the sand pit. B had a play too.
Later on, there were Skype calls with grandparents (my mum had spent the day with us, but T's parents live too far away), and there was much excitement when CBeebies showed his birthday card.
B went to bed happy, and although we didn't manage to find time to sit down with a birthday cake (though he actually has two waiting for him), he couldn't have enjoyed the day much more without exploding.
And neither could I, either today, or two years ago.
You see, the birth of B was overdue to the tune of about a fortnight and I had to be induced. Without going into too much detail, I was lucky enough that the first 'assistance' that women in the UK tend to be given worked a treat and labour kicked off.
It was mercifully fast, and in between the bits that made me
When I eventually had to stop walking and talking during contractions, I started to use techniques of hyno-birthing that I had learned during the preceding months, and which enabled me to focus. Anyway; short story shorter, B came along in under two hours, and I was lucky enough to have managed with gas and air.
Whilst I am certain that I couldn't have endured a much more intense labour without more intense anaesthesia, I thoroughly believe that my mental state helped me to birth in the way that I did.*
The way in which this related to my experience with T's diabetes is this...
I have found coming to terms with him not being able to simply 'fix' himself, or have others 'fix' him quite difficult. I guess this must be something that many people in a similar situation experience.
Knowing that something like childbirth is natural and has happened to many women before, and will happen to many women again is a great comfort. Knowing that should things progress in an unexpected, or difficult fashion, medical help would (probably - but that's another story) be available, was also instrumental in helping me to feel safe. There is help available for people with diabetes, obviously, and there is help available for complications of diabetes. But since diabetes is not something, like childbirth that is actually expected (after a fashion), I find it a whole lot more scary.
It is late, and I am rambling now. Tomorrow I shall say what I was actually trying to say.
Hopefully.
*I do of course accept that my own memory may have become altered with time, but I did write down much of my experience very soon after the fact so that I could revisit it later if I wanted to be sure of what I thought happened. I do not believe that it is a magic formula that will cure birth complications, nor that any woman should have any less medical help in childbirth than she reasonably believes she requires.
Thursday, 23 February 2012
It's Friday!
Actually, I lie -it's Thursday. But as I have taken annual leave tomorrow, It might as well be. Without wanting to do down the suffering of those who have been unfortunate enough to experience this; I feel as though I have been run over by a truck. Nothing much out of the ordinary has happened, but I think I have been stretched at work, and am preparing to fly solo for my first period end. If, dear readers, I ever made out that I was anything more glamarous thaan accountant, I was lying then too.
I don't think I was ever that deceitful though.
I have been thinking about deceipt quite a lot lately. It may not seem relevant to diabetes, but it is. Or at least denial is, and that is obviously a form of deceipt.
More later, if I can stay awake...
Also, I can no longer spell deceipt / deceit. The more I look at it, the weirder it seems ans I can neither decide on that 'p', nor be bothered to find a dictionary.
I don't think I was ever that deceitful though.
I have been thinking about deceipt quite a lot lately. It may not seem relevant to diabetes, but it is. Or at least denial is, and that is obviously a form of deceipt.
More later, if I can stay awake...
Also, I can no longer spell deceipt / deceit. The more I look at it, the weirder it seems ans I can neither decide on that 'p', nor be bothered to find a dictionary.
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Once more
I have left it too long between posts. Life tends to make that happen; one minute it's Christmas, then in a whirlwind of presents, indigestion, birthdays, frosty mornings, working, sleeping, cleaning, playing, and more working, whoosh it's already almost the end of February.
T's blood sugar level has been on the up again. He thinks that he is lacking exercise and that even with his diet slippage, he would probably be okay if there were just a few more hours in the day into which to fit exercise and possibly more sleep.
We have a toddler; sleep is naturally high on the agenda.
I have been baking a lot recently; B's second birthday is coming up and I felt the need to practise before inflicting bakery disasters on unwitting, but hopefully polite family members. And so I decided to experiment on those most benign of critics; my colleagues, The feedback has been generally favourable, but I haven't taken in any of my Splenda / Stevia creations yet.
The problem with Splenda / Stevia is that although they taste sweet, sweetness is not the only reason that sugar is added to a cake mixture. Without sugar, I just can't seem to get cakes to rise properly. There is only so much air you can beat into a batter before the structure cannot support itself any more and collapses back before the heat has set it. The same goes for baking powder and sodium bicarbonate; too much has the opposite effect. Sweeteners are lighter than sugar, so although they add volume, they don't add mass; I wonder whether that is part of the problem? I will investigate.
Investigation has been going on left, right and centre recently. B has got a Balance Bike coming for his birthday; it is a bike with no pedals, brakes, or chain, and it is supposed to allow a toddler to learn how to control the bike's stability without having to learn how to pedal at the same time. It is red, and I am sure that he will love it! He will be made to wear a helmet though. No helmet, no bike. Until he's at least forty.
Whilst T has been working in the evenings, the genealogy bug has bitten me once more. A colleague and I may share common ancestry, so I have been looking into that for few days, but am getting nowhere quickly.
In short; life is pretty much carrying on. It is easy (for me) to forget about the diabetes, and there is definitely a danger in becoming complacent about it. Ultimately, it is T who has to make sure that he does the right things as far as his body is concerned, but forgetting to be supportive if he is more lax than usual is very, very easy.
T's blood sugar level has been on the up again. He thinks that he is lacking exercise and that even with his diet slippage, he would probably be okay if there were just a few more hours in the day into which to fit exercise and possibly more sleep.
We have a toddler; sleep is naturally high on the agenda.
I have been baking a lot recently; B's second birthday is coming up and I felt the need to practise before inflicting bakery disasters on unwitting, but hopefully polite family members. And so I decided to experiment on those most benign of critics; my colleagues, The feedback has been generally favourable, but I haven't taken in any of my Splenda / Stevia creations yet.
The problem with Splenda / Stevia is that although they taste sweet, sweetness is not the only reason that sugar is added to a cake mixture. Without sugar, I just can't seem to get cakes to rise properly. There is only so much air you can beat into a batter before the structure cannot support itself any more and collapses back before the heat has set it. The same goes for baking powder and sodium bicarbonate; too much has the opposite effect. Sweeteners are lighter than sugar, so although they add volume, they don't add mass; I wonder whether that is part of the problem? I will investigate.
Investigation has been going on left, right and centre recently. B has got a Balance Bike coming for his birthday; it is a bike with no pedals, brakes, or chain, and it is supposed to allow a toddler to learn how to control the bike's stability without having to learn how to pedal at the same time. It is red, and I am sure that he will love it! He will be made to wear a helmet though. No helmet, no bike. Until he's at least forty.
Whilst T has been working in the evenings, the genealogy bug has bitten me once more. A colleague and I may share common ancestry, so I have been looking into that for few days, but am getting nowhere quickly.
In short; life is pretty much carrying on. It is easy (for me) to forget about the diabetes, and there is definitely a danger in becoming complacent about it. Ultimately, it is T who has to make sure that he does the right things as far as his body is concerned, but forgetting to be supportive if he is more lax than usual is very, very easy.
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