“Pregnancy seems like a tremendous abdication of control. Something growing inside you which will eventually usurp your life.” –Erica Jong
I have this memory: I’m four years old, riding in the backseat after church, sobbing. I am limp and shaking from hunger and I am crying from the lack of food (the Cheerios snack during Sunday school just didn’t cut it). My mom has since said, “I don’t know why I never thought to bring crackers in the car for you!”
As an adult, I now have crackers in my car. At all times. And granola bars, nuts, raisins and the occasional protein shake. I’ve always had a blood sugar problem. If I eat every, oh, hour on the hour, then I’m fine. If not, I do “the Whitman stare” as my husband refers to it. Even as I type this, I am eating a bowl of oatmeal with sliced strawberries. It’s 10:23 at night. And I just might have some toast before bed.
Each pregnancy, I take the dreaded “glucola” test. Basically, you drink a ridiculously (maliciously?) sweet 10-ounce beverage (the equivalent of 30 Campfire Marshmallows), and then have your blood drawn an hour later to see if your sugar levels are still too elevated. I always fail the one-hour screening. Seems like an odd test to me. Perhaps I’m just bitter and jealous of the women who actually pass. Perhaps I’m just grumpy because none of the other women in my family have struggled with blood sugar levels. Perhaps I just need a (less sugary) snack.
I’ve always thought that a simpler, and, (in my feeble mind), just as accurate test, would be to invite a few friends out to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, feast on pancakes, maple syrup and orange juice, and THEN get your blood drawn. SO much more fun than drinking warm Hawaiian Punch concentrate in the waiting room!
But alas, doctor knows best. So, this week I took the test. In talking with other pregnant women, this test is a pretty paltry inconvenience compared to some of the scary things they face: bed rest, early labor, placenta previa, and other challenges that make my husband beg me to avoid the Internet because of my penchant toward unfounded fears and worrying.
Having gestational diabetes is one of those fears. I immediately picture myself with lancets and insulin pumps and a 23 lb. baby upon delivery. Until those fears are confirmed, I will continue to follow the advice of my family and friends: “Eat healthy, well balanced meals as often as you need to.”
So, some people sleep like a baby; I apparently eat like one.
What’s happening to baby this week?
*Baby now weighs two-and-three-quarters pounds.
*Swimming anyone? Baby’s hearing is now quite developed…similar to the sounds you hear when someone talks to you while you are underwater.
*Baby is able to distinguish voices; speaking of underwater, my husband has now taken to ‘talking’ to our baby…but he doesn’t use his regular voice. He sounds more like the mating call of a large whale. So, when the baby is born, she won’t necessarily recognize Daddy’s voice, but she’ll bond well with Shamu.
What’s happening with ME this week?
*I’ve dreaded this glucose test; just thinking about drinking the juice makes me a bit nauseated.
*I’ve developed a pain in my left groin that makes me limp around like Igor. I’m told it’s a varicose vein in my ‘feminine area.’ Lovely.
*I am on the quest to find a car seat and stroller. Again, the Internet is a dangerous place for me: Too many options, too much information, not enough cash flow. In my opinion, a stroller should not cost more than our vehicle; some of them do.
Let’s hear from you!
What is the most challenging aspect of pregnancy for you?