Week 26: Sweet!

So, yesterday I took my doctor's latest orders to the hospital to do a bunch of testing. One of the things I was not looking forward to was the gestational diabetes glucose test. I had heard you could pass out or get sick, and seeing as though I come from a long line of diabetics and hypoglycemics (and feel hypoglycemic half the time though I've never been tested) I was expecting the worst. As we pulled into the hospital, I told Cristiano "Just watch. As always, there will be some 'problem' preventing us from doing these tests." Getting pregnancy care here has been a big bureaucratic nightmare/scavenger hunt that requires me to bounce back and forth from my gynecologist's (who tells me which tests I need to do) to my primary care physician (who is the only one who can write up the referrals and who has no phone and keeps bizarre office hours) to the various hospitals and clinics that offer the tests. Every time I go to do a test in the hospital with the "official doctor's orders," they find some niggling problem or detail that has been left off (such as, the "u" in my last name looks too much like an "i" and therefore doesn't match my health card) and thus refuse to do the test.

Anyway, this time I had resigned myself to having one of these problems and having gotten my butt out of bed before 8 a.m. on a Saturday for no good reason. Sure enough as I got up to the front of the huge line, I was told "It's 8:30 a.m. You should have begun the glucose testing by 8 a.m." I asked why. "Well, signora, you will vomit if you drink glucose after 8 a.m." I explained that neither my doctor nor my gynecologist had explained this "hard-and-fast" rule of glucose testing. I begged the woman to let me in, explaining that I work during the week and did not have four hours to spare on Monday to sit around drinking glucose in their hospital. She went to check with the technician and said "OK, but know better for next time. I really hope you don't vomit." I was shocked that she let me in as there are usually "no exceptions to the rules" when it comes to these kinds of ridiculous things (of course, Italians find lots of excuses for breaking many other laws or disregarding other rules but when it comes to a "u" that looks like an "i" or drinking glucose 30 minutes too late, they become sticklers).

My initial blood sugar level reading (before drinking anything) was 84, which apparently is perfectly healthy and normal. I drank the first dose of glucose, which was pretty gross but sweetness-wise (and I HATE sweet things in the morning especially on an empty stomach), it wasn't as bad as I expected. Cristiano had originally planned on leaving me there with my newspaper and stack of magazines so he could go run to the electronics store down the street and look at nerdy computer stuff. But because the woman had so freaked us out about how I might react to glucose "after 8 a.m.," he decided to stick around. Good guy! I sat there and sat there waiting to vomit and reading my newspaper. It never happened. In fact, I didn't really feel much of anything except the effects of not having had any breakfast. No vomiting. No shakiness. No passing out. I guess you can take the test after 8 a.m. and survive! I get the results this coming Friday.

Week 25: What a luxury!

I was reading through one of my cheesy Italian pregnancy magazines last night, and I came upon an article detailing what the "future" holds in terms of giving birth. They spoke of one day being able to have one's own private delivery room (Imagine that - being able to be in labor in a room without strangers seeing you in all of your agony?) in a "welcoming and homey" setting. They used as an example one hospital in Italy where they have supposedly done just that. I've scanned in the photos to illustrate what "luxury" means in an Italian hospital - there's a "pink delivery room," a "blue delivery room" and "yellow delivery room." One even has an adjustable bed so you can actually change positions. Wow! There is no decoration on the walls, however, save for a picture of the Virgin Mary. Unfortunately, my hospital is not so ahead of the curve and I will not have luxuries, such as colorfully painted walls and privacy. Though I am told that my hospital is one of the only 7 percent in Italy that guarantee epidurals 24 hours a day seven days a week. At least that's something!

Here are some photos of luxury childbirth Italian-style (keep in mind they are scans from a magazine so the quality is not the best) - they 'aint suites but they've got colorful walls...

Week 24: Staying positive

I have not updated lately because not a lot has been going on new on the baby front (well, aside from baby consuming our whole lives, of course). He is kicking and he swishes around a lot. In fact, he kicked for the very first time in New York in the JFK airport as I was about to board my plane to return to Italy. Well, I'm sure it wasn't his first kick but it was the first kick I actually felt. Cristiano's interpretation - he already hates and dreads flying. My interpretation - he didn't want to leave the U.S.!

I have not exactly been in the most positive frame of mind, which is another reason I haven't written a lot. Being pregnant in a foreign country is quite difficult. More difficult than I had imagined. I really don't want to get into it because I'm trying to focus on the positive, but it's been challenging.

Above is a very non-exciting picture of my first load of baby laundry! I am washing everything now because Baby Cugini will be born in January and since we don't have a clothes dryer (actually nobody really does in Italy), I want things washed and dried while it's still warm enough outside to get them dried quickly. In the winter, you have to hang things in the house and it can take several days for things to dry and they can take on a musty smell. It felt bizarre to do laundry for someone who isn't technically here yet. But then he already has two whole drawers in the dresser so I guess he's already begun to make his impact in the house.

Update: below is the second load of baby laundry. The first load was easy because it was mainly all towels. This load took me about 30 minutes to hang because of all of the tiny things (like socks and little hats) that can't be hung without a clothes pin. I've survived without a clothes dryer for seven years. I fear life with a baby and without a clothes dryer is not going to be easy. At least the sun came out. Dry little socks, dry! I hope baby clothes don't get too wrinkly because I really don't see me ironing receiving blankets and tiny caps.