*2 parts good; 1 part not so good.
Let’s get the not so good out of the way first.
This week was the glucose test that every pregnant woman has to take. Cutting to the chase, my results came back as a “possible positive” for gestational diabetes, so I have to spend three fun-filled hours taking *another* glucose test this week… one that involves drinking MORE sugar (which was disgusting enough the first time around and sent me straight home for a three hour nap), as well as having blood drawn a total of four times.
Now there are a few things about this news that bother me, besides the obvious (turns out gestational diabetes is relatively common and typically disappears after birth). First: I don’t engage in any of the behaviors that elevate one’s risk profile for this health problem. I don’t smoke, I don’t drink soda, I don’t eat fast food, I don’t eat really sugary food, I exercise, I eat tons of vegetables and whole grains rather than processed, yada yada. And that really makes me cranky. Second: For some reason, this news made me feel like a big loser. Like I’d done something wrong and should feel ashamed about it. (Note: I don’t feel this way about other people who have gestational diabetes, just about myself). Third: How can every other indicator of my health be, the midwife’s words, “perfect”? Fourth: Now, every time I’m about to have something with sugar in it, I think “Nope, shouldn’t eat that.” Today we went to a Bastille Day celebration and there was this table with the loveliest display of little pastries. I would have LOVED to gobble down a small piece of gateau de chocolate, but nope. I held my head high and kept walking.
Ok, now that I’ve got that out of the way….
This week, I had a couple of compelling realizations. Compelling because they were entirely unexpected.
By this point in the pregnancy, I fully expected to be struggling with two emotions, neither of which I really planned to discuss with anyone:
1. a bittersweet feeling about the fact that life-before-a-child with Francisco was ending
2. a deep and persistent sense of urgency that no fewer than one billion things needed to be taken care of before my energy/time/whatever ran out.
Curiously, neither feeling has manifest itself, and I’m really grateful–and surprised–by the relative sense of peace I’m feeling. Sure, I DO have about one billion things to do, but that’s nothing new and I don’t feel as if time is about to run out.
The secret? It’s all about naps.
It’s a big week coming up: a 6 hour pre-birthing class that’s mandatory for couples who want to have their baby in the birthing center. A trip to South Carolina and then on to Puerto Rico for a guidebook assignment for Fodor’s. And, of course, the glucose test, part 2.