I have always wanted three children.  Three seems like a good amount, right?  I’m the oldest of three and I loved growing up with two siblings.  Why wouldn’t this be the perfect situation for our growing family?

Wellllllll I didn’t exactly have the easiest pregnancy, but come on, does anyone?!  Sure it started out fine with just a bit of nausea and feeling tired all the time, but that disappeared when I hit the second trimester.  But everything changed after my glucose screening.

I received the lovely news that I had failed the one hour glucose test.  Of course everyone was telling me it happens all the time and you pass the three hour test with flying colors. Except, that’s not what happened.  Ohhhhh no.  I did not pass the three hour test with flying colors.  I failed.  And that is not easily accepted by someone with my type A personality.

My doctor said not to worry as she arranged a meeting with a nutritionist and a specialist.  How could I not worry when I was going to meet with a specialist?!  I was told again and again I shouldn’t worry because this happens to more women than I realize.  I was also told again and again that it’s easily controlled with diet and exercise … kay.

This was not the case for me.  After meeting with the nutritionist and specialist within two hours of each other, I called my husband, sobbing into the phone while sitting in the parking lot of my doctor’s office.  The poor guy was at work and immediately told his boss something was wrong and he had to go home.  He spent the rest of the day sitting on the couch, listening to my irrational sobs.  I was pregnant, hormonal, and suddenly had information overload.

The nutritionist had given me a glucose monitor that I was expected to use four times a day.  Each number had to be recorded and the spreadsheet had to be handed into my doctor bi-weekly.  Oh yes, that’s right, I started going to the doctors every other week, sometimes twice if I was meeting with the nutritionist.

As the days went by, I watched my numbers slowly creep up.  My doctor told me to expect some high numbers, but they were becoming the norm.  Exercise stopped helping.  Meal and snack planning stopped working.  Eventually I was put on medication.  Apparently this is all my body needed to cooperate.

Just when I finally started feeling like I had gestational diabetes under control, the itching began.  I was told itching is normal during pregnancy.  But I knew this was not normal.  It got to the point where I couldn’t sleep at night because all I could think about was the itching.  This is when I realized I needed to call my doctor.

The nurse I spoke with tried very hard to convince me this was a normal symptom of pregnancy.  She told me to take some benadryl and that will give me relief.  But again, I knew she was wrong.  After spending countless hours researching online, I had diagnosed myself.  ICP (intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy) was what I diagnosed myself with.  The articles I read were enough to scare the heck out of me.  Again, I called the doctor’s office.  But this time I spoke with a different nurse and she immediately told me my doctor might want to run blood tests.

Within a half hour I received a call back and she told me they had already sent the request over to the lab and I should get there as soon as possible.  That’s exactly what I did.  Of course, the lab tech was angry that I hadn’t made an appointment and I was there 15 minutes before closing.  But I didn’t care.  At this point, the safety of my baby was all I cared about.  This was on a Friday.

The following Monday, my husband and I were driving to yet another appointment when I received a call from my doctor.  Not the office.  Not a nurse.  My doctor.  I immediately knew it wasn’t going to be good news.  My results were in an I had ICP.  Luckily, I was already on the way to her office for a scheduled ultrasound.  She told me she was going to meet with me immediately following that ultrasound.

My husband was sent into a panic because he was not expecting this.  But I had done the research, so I was.  The first words out of her mouth were “you’re having this baby this week”.  My husband and I looked at each other in disbelief.  The day we had been waiting for was finally here.  Within two days, I was induced and my little Noah was born.

My pregnancy wasn’t easy, but again, are they ever?  I can’t stand listening to endless stories of blissful complication free pregnancies.  Well congratulations.  Some of us, however, are not able to enjoy our pregnancies as much as we thought we would.  My husband and I have been seriously considering trying for another baby.  However, every time this conversation begins, I’m taken back to my first pregnancy.  My worries return and I begin panicking that everything will happen again.