I finally took another blood test and i’m (again) officially a pre-diabetic. I should admit that this I have (maybe subconsciously) known this was the case for a while and just didn’t want to deal with it. So, I’m proud of myself for asking my doctor to order another test so I can take steps to address this before it gets out of control. I just read that 70% of people with PCOS have insulin intolerance that leads to pre-diabetes. This makes me feel slightly better but I hate that I feel stigmatized for having a “fat people’s” condition. I definitely feel like I would have dealt with this earlier had I not felt this stigma and body shame and it feels shitty. I definitely identify as a body positive anti-body shaming, proud plus size lady-but I’m still affected by all of this anti-fat BS and I’m worried that having to regulate what I eat will bring these feeling more to the surface. I guess it may be time to start therapy again.

I spent the better part of the morning looking up the glycemic index of different food (yipee!) and now I’m going to dive into a big work project to get my mind off of the lack of pizza I will soon be facing.

Here are some amazing pictures from our trip to Buffalo that my super-talented friend took at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery:

Arya’s Birth Story

My sister got here two days before my scheduled c section and we spent the day before getting last minute things done. I also had an amazing massage. It felt important to eat some ” last” meals out so we went out to brunch and dinner.  Then we took some last bump photos:


When I went to bed it dawned on me that I was having a baby by having an awake surgery. So I would be conscious while they were cutting me open and pulling my organs aside. Oh and the whole meeting my daughter thing. I didn’t sleep much and jumped out of bed when my alarm went off at 5:30 AM and took a shower.

The hospital in Oakland had told me to call before coming in because they may need to delay my c section in case there was an emergency.  At 6 I sleepily called labor and delivery and told them I was scheduled to be in at 7AM for a scheduled c-section.  The woman responded “ummm yeah you can’t come in yet-i’m pretty sure this isn’t happening today.  We are really busy..maybe Monday..?”  (it was Friday)  She said it like I was re-scheduling an oil change with absolutely no acknowledgment about how this may be upsetting to me.  When I replied that this date was pushed up significantly due to being at risk for uterine rupture due to a surgery and preeclampsia she replied..” you have preeclampsia?.. let me call you back..”

About 30 minutes later she called back and just said “yeah.. we can’t do it today-sorry.”  She didn’t mention consulting with anyone about all of my risk factors and she seemed very annoyed when I asked to speak to someone else.  A few minutes later I spoke to the nurse manager who was equally (if not more) annoyed by my questions and concerns.  She just said: ” don’t you have some fibroids?” and I explained that they had been removed during a surgery on my uterus which is why I was having an early c-section.  She also seemed unconcerned about the preeclampsia and again never mentioned looking at my chart or doing any type of evaluation of whether this delay would be ok.  I told her I was surprised they were casually rescheduling given the preinatalogist’s insistence I have the baby today.  I also asked if I should eat.  She said she would ask someone.  A few minutes later she told me to eat but I decided not to because it was unclear what was going on and I didn’t want to ruin my chances of having a c-section today.

My sister was equally livid and insisted I call them back but I decided to wait because talking to the nurses was making me really anxious.  Then I checked my blood pressure and it was crazy high at 200/110. Previously I had been told to call immediately if it ever went over 160/90.  This had resulted in me spending a few hours on monitors at labor and delivery several times the previous week.  I called them back and they told me to come in.  It seemed I had finally forced them to care about me and the baby’s well-being.

When we showed up the unit was packed and crazy busy. As if on cue, a screaming woman was wheeled past us and it all felt very Grey’s Anatomy. The triage nurse ( who I had spoken to on the phone) looked unimpressed. She informed us they had nowhere to put me. She also mentioned that ” this is why I told you not to come in” and snarkily asked if my blood pressure had increased after they told me my c section was postponed. She didn’t take my blood pressure and sent us to the visitors waiting room.

We were in the waiting room for a long time. I was starving and nervous and my sister did her best to distract me. My friend also stopped by with her one year old. At one point a man who had been watching his friend’s two year old just walked away leaving the little girl behind. The girl started crying and we told security who went looking for the man. When he came back he was surprised that everyone was so upset. This was ridiculous but at least it provided some good distraction. After a few hours my sister went and yelled at the nurse manager. A few minutes later I was taken to a room for monitoring.

The triage nurse apologized through gritted teeth. My blood pressure was finally taken and it was within normal range. The baby’s heartbeat was perfect. Although this was good news, my heart sunk a bit because I knew this meant they would be sending me home. The surgeon who was supposed to be doing my c section came to see me and I was finally reassured that the baby would be ok if we waited a few days to take her out. This was seven hours after I was told the c section was postponed. She rolled her eyes when I told her the nurse on the phone didn’t know I had preeclampsia and I felt vindicated. Then she asked if I wanted to have the baby today. When I said I really did, she assured me they would find another hospital for me to go to. ( my HMO has a large network of hospitals). About 30 minutes later I was told I could have my c section at the hospital in San Francisco and I happily agreed.

The vibe at the hospital in San Francisco was a huge contrast to the one in Oakland.  Things were calm, they were actually ready for me, and I was put in a room right away to prep me for the surgery.  I started to get really nervous so my sister pulled out her I-Pad and put on the Great British Bake Off.  This helped a lot but my heart was beating out of my chest when they came to bring me to the operating room.

They had me sit on the operating table for the epidural.  One of nurses held my shoulders and looked into my eyes while making small talk to ensure I didn’t move while they were putting a needle into my spine.  When they were done, they laid me down on the table and realized I couldn’t feel my legs.  The anesthesiologist started poking me to make sure it worked and kept asking me if I was feeling something sharp or just pressure.  I started to panic because I was petrified of giving the wrong answer.  When I started to really freak out, I told them I thought I was having a panic attack and I think they gave me a sedative because I was much calmer by the time my sister came in.

She held my hand and tried to distract me from the fact that my body was being cut open on the other side of the blue sheet draped across my middle.  All of a sudden I heard loud cries and I was completely overwhelmed and started crying.  A few minutes later they handed Arya to me and she was amazing.  I was really overwhelmed and welcomed her to the world through tears.  I couldn’t (can’t) believe I was finally a mom to this tiny person.  I didn’t know what to say so I just told her “hello you!” and examined her tiny nose and her hair.

Then I started to feel a lot of pressure and pain so I handed her to my sister.  When I complained out loud someone stupidly said ” it’s because we have your uterus out and we are stitching it up.”  Umm WTF?  So now I think of my uterus on a metal table every time I think of Arya’s birth.

I feel like I didn’t really get a chance to really take her in until I held her in the recovery room. We immediately did skin to skin and my friend helped her get latched on.  I was amazed that she knew what to do and it felt  amazing to be producing something that would make her healthy and strong.

The next few days at the hospital were a blur.  I could barely move without extreme pain so it was great to have the nurses hand her to me for feedings and to change her diapers.  The best part was just holding her skin to skin and snuggling.  I will also never forget introducing her to my parents for the first time.  On the way out my sister and my parents were bickering about something silly.  My dad told Arya: ” You don’t get to choose us but these crazy people are your family.”  This made us all laugh.

What I honestly remember most about this time was being scared that I didn’t feel the completely intense love for Arya that everyone talks about.  Not to say I didn’t love her (and wow would this love develop by leaps and bounds) but this was clouded by the terrifying worry of being responsible to take care of a tiny person…and I would be doing it solo. This caused me to be petrified to bring her home because this would mark the true start of this long journey.  I remember looking at her and thinking “I’m all this beautiful girl has so I have to get it together.”  Luckily I had enormous support from friends and family to lean on so I put her in her adorable monster pjs and off we went.

My journey so far (aka why the f*$k would you choose to be a single mom)?



Despite my sweet but very conservative mother’s best efforts, I don’t think women at any age (especially those of us in our 30’s and 40’s) should have a prescribed set of milestones and events that mark us being “adults” and getting our shit together like marriage, kids, etc.  Hell, I’ve been struggling against the patriarchy my whole life.  I hate admitting this (especially my 20 year old, bell hooks reading, women’s studies majoring self) but I still had some of these expectations for myself.  Namely, I pictured myself having kid(s) with a long term partner (preferably bearded, chubby, and a radical feminist). And then my marriage fell apart and I found myself divorced at 38 (a divorcee hehe).

About a year after I split with my ex-husband I went on a frantic search for a new partner and it was…rough, including a date with a guy who divulged the following things in the first 10 minutes of our date: 1) that his friends had murdered someone 2) that he could build a flamethrower if he “needed to.” 3) that he is extremely “militant” about martial arts.  He was also missing an eye and had misspelled finger tattoos.

One of the other reasons I don’t think I found my new life partner on Ok Cupid is that i wasn’t actually looking for a life partner, I was looking for a sperm donor because I was scared that my eggs in my ovaries would implode if I didn’t get them fertilized NOW. After a ton of therapy and Zoloft I came to the conclusion that I would be a kick-ass single mom.  My decision was significantly helped along by a friend (who I will refer to as my fertility sugar mama) who was in a position to give me some money to pay for it.  I mean this is one of the few options women have that men don’t so I should take advantage of it, right?

This wasn’t by any means an easy decision to come to.  I’ve actually found myself mourning the loss of my hypothetical kid’s hypothetical father.  But when I pulled the trigger and made my first doctor’s appointment I actually felt a sense of calm.  Not that I am not scared to death of the idea of bringing a new human into the world, but I feel like I finally have some control of what my future might look like AND no more internet dating (for now).  So here I am taking the plunge..