Watching Over Gotham.

"What am I doing?", my endocrinologist said to herself, out loud. "This goes against all of my training! But, it's what your numbers are telling me..."

Sounds right.

It seems like my insulin needs have never quite matched up with what's considered "standard", whether it's the ratio of daily bolus to basal insulin, the increase in basal rates while I'm sleeping (my body won't even look at insulin while I'm dreaming; it's that resistant), or the number of basal rates I'm running throughout the day (they once totaled 12 rates in one day, and it worked really well at the time).

It doesn't surprise me that my endo (whom I adore - I've only had two appointments with her and I'd already like to send her a basket of puppies and chocolate, though not in the same basket because then I'm sending her a basket of dead puppies, and what the hell kind of tangent is this) is needing to do things a bit differently to keep me in range - and you know what? So far, it's working pretty well.

But while basal rate changes help, they don't do all of the work for me. I still see myself trending down several times a day, but it sort of works out for now since pregnancy has brought me a bottomless pit for a stomach. "Oh! Cool! I can eat again." But things change sporadically, randomly, and often - much like Batman watching over his beloved Gotham, I too must remain vigilantly attentive to what's going on around (and in) me.

I'm back in super-obsessive mode, which means I'm clicking the Dexcom button every few minutes (even though I know it only updates every five) and doing a finger stick about every hour and a half - but sometimes I'll get crazy and wait TWO HOURS YOU GUYS! I haven't gone through this many lancets in... ever? My fingers are losing their patience with me swiftly.

What would be reeeeeally wonderful right about now is this:

That's the Artificial Pancreas system that Tom Brobson, JDRF National Director of Research Investment Opportunities (and star of this YouTube video detailing his experience using this thing in a real-world setting) brought along with him to a JDRF breakfast here locally on Wednesday, that I felt very lucky to be able to attend. It's not perfect - no technology is - but having a system that would look out for me and minimize the highs and lows? I'd take it in a heartbeat.

Until then, I will do my throw my Bat-darts at this ever-moving target called diabetes, in the hopes that I can hit something more often than not.

Week Eleven.

"Week Eleven"? What does that even mean?

Well, let me explain...

We're having a baby! (Which is a weirdly wonderful thing to be able to say, let me tell you.)

You may have seen a post a couple of years ago in which I accurately predicted that "life doesn't always follow the nice neat path you have for it". What I also believe is that things happen when they are supposed to happen, and someone's decided that 2013 is when Baby V is ready to join our crew.

And because we had been hopeful for two years, I had sort of lost a bit of the optimism and on-pointness I began with. It was no longer top-of-mind that I could be pregnant, so a slightly puffy-feeling tummy didn't tip me off right away. I have yet to experience any of the nausea or sickness so often coupled with early pregnancy (and I am SO THANKFUL for that luck), so no clues there. Trips to the bathroom became more frequent, but I was also making an unrelated effort to drink more water, so that seemed like NBD.

What finally tipped me off was diabetes. (One thing to be thankful for, in this whole pancreatic mess?) I am running low all the time, and am hungry all the time. The relentless lows, which also have involved many middle of the night excursions, are to thank for finally igniting my brain lightbulb so that I could say, "Oh, maybe I should pee on a stick". And so I did, late at night, and promptly lost my mind for a few minutes.

After a flurry of phone calls the next morning, I had an appointment set with my OB-GYN for a few days later (this happened over MLK Jr. weekend, which means I didn't know I was pregnant when I declared that blog break, but again... happens for a reason). I had no idea how far along I was, so imagine my shock when the ultrasound tech told me that "Yep, looks like you're 10 weeks!" Exsqueeze me, what? Ten? Like, almost done with the first trimester, ten? We also were able to hear a heartbeat so strong and loud that it momentarily paused my own, and we're told that everything looks normal so far; a label for which I've never been so thankful in my entire life.

I'll be spending the next 29-ish weeks (gosh, is that IT?) frequenting doctor's offices, eating more fruits and veggies and whole grains and lean proteins and OMG can't we fit a cheeseburger in here somewhere, and clearing out the office nursery to make way for a wee one. I already miss many things, the most of which is my beloved caffienated coffee, to whom I've considered writing love letters of longing on more than one occasion. Lots of work ahead, you guys. Lots of work.

But also, a lot of happy. More happy than I can fathom right now, I think.

Break.

If you've ever spent a decent amount of time around a Corgi (or the flooring in my house), you'll notice that every so often they get this giant burst of energy. Suddenly, they are compelled to run like a joyful maniac all over the house at top speed, for maybe 30 - 45 seconds. They just kind of lose their minds for a brief time - it's nuts, and I can't stop giggling every time Billy does it. It has a name - it's called "frapping", and Corgis are notorious for it.

And then, as swiftly as it started, it ends. They lay down, exhausted from the sprinting, and recooperate a bit.

I feel like I've been frapping, myself, for a while now. I've been running and running, except that instead of torn-up carpeting, I've left unfinished projects, date nights with my husband, sleep, and the ability to remember what I did even last week in my wake. While I am proud of everything I was able to do "here" this past year, I'm looking forward in 2013 to finding out what I can do everywhere else in my life. Can I merge what I love doing and what I can make a living doing? Maybe. Can I find a better balance between my laptop and my life? I hope so. Can I see some of my "real life" friends more than twice a year? Goodness, I hope so.

And so, I'm going to take Billy's lead and just lay down for a while, bloggily speaking. In order to do that, I'll be putting this blog into a medically-induced coma hiatus for a little while. I'm not done, but I do want a breather. Will it be a few weeks? A few months? Will I go four days and then have something I want to post again? I don't know, but I'm going to take the opportunity to find out.

(For those trying to read between the lines, nothing is "wrong", but thank you for being concerned. And yeah, I built all of that momentum with #GiveAllTheThings last month, and now it will lay down for a nice nap. That's just how I roll.)

My wish is that your new year is off to a wonderful start, and that you, too, will take the steps you need to in order to be as healthy and happy as you can be. We all deserve the chance at better balance.