This means that they get to starve me again,
make me drink a nasty sugary fruit punch drink again,
and poke me with a needle again.
Only this time they get to do it 4 different times over three hours,
which begs the question:
"Where are they going to find all the veins necessary
for these FOUR separate blood draws?"
I don't mean to be dramatic,
and frankly I would do anything and everything
to ensure the best possible outcome
for my beloved womb nugget,
and I'm still just pleased as punch about being pregnant at all...
This feels a little scary.
I'm not gonna lie,
I totally had a good cry today.
Mostly because I read up on gestational diabetes
on the Mayo Clinic's website, and they said that some babies
born to mothers with gestational diabetes have blood sugar issues that cause seizures.
Some babies are maimed and/or hurt during delivery because of their size.
Some babies have ADD, or poor motor skill development...
Some die before they are born.
Some are just fine because gestational diabetes is totally manageable with diet, exercise, and medicine if necessary. (This part should comfort me, but sort of doesn't just yet, even though I know it should.)
So, I took today and just let myself feel sad and a little scared.
Tomorrow, I've decided I will be happy and brave, and all sorts of "game-planned" out.
I dealt with 5 years of infertility, I can certainly take on 3 months of gestational diabetes.
I don't even know if I REALLY have it yet. Those answers will come via a 3 hour torture session at my doctor's on Monday morning. (yay!)
I'm not so worried about myself.
I'm worried about the womb nugget.
He DID NOT like that drink.
He almost kicked a hole in my uterus and made a break for it.
I was gasping in shock and pain at some of his
I have never felt anything quite like it.
My midwife couldn't even take an accurate heart rate reading
because he was kicking the doppler right off of my belly.
(Seriously, we had a good laugh about it. Dude is gonna play some mean soccer.)
He had another bout of crazy from 11:00 pm-1:00 am.
I couldn't sleep.
He was brawling with my organs and then doing an Irish jig on their cold, dead remains.
Seriously. It was nuts.
I don't see how doing the same thing to him
is a logical, or even responsible thing to do.
Can't we just assume I have GB and just do the diet and what not?
Should we really starve me and then spike my blood sugar
when it's been made clear that it's not good (even dangerous) for both me and baby bob?
Vent sesh over.
Thanks for listening.
Has anyone done this before?
Where did they poke you 4 different times?
Did you "pass" your second test?
Has anyone had GB before?