a post about a glucose test

I survived my gestational diabetes test! I'm so glad it's over. This is a standard test given to all pregnant women between 24 and 28 weeks of gestation. Basically, I had to drink this bottle of orange syrup (it contains 50mg of glucose), wait an hour, then get my blood drawn to see how my body was processing the sugar and to determine whether or not I had to be on a diabetic diet regimen for the rest of my pregnancy. They also tested me for anemia, just as a precaution. 

I was so thankful that my midwives let me take home the "Glucola" (doesn't that made-up name make it sound appetizing?) ahead of time, keep it refrigerated so it would be super cold to help it go down, then drink it at home before driving into the office so I didn't have to sit for an hour in their waiting room. I love those ladies. The drink made me somewhat nauseous so I was glad to be at home as long as possible before going in.

Unfortunately, my body didn't take to losing three vials of blood very well. My hearing got skewed, my vision went dark, I started seeing stars and got nauseous and overheated before the nurse was even done with the blood draw. It was...unpleasant. Thankfully, they already had me lying down for the baby's heartbeat check when they started the blood draw, so all I had to do was stay still until the symptoms eased up. The office staff was so sweet and let me have all the time I needed in their exam room with the lights low and a fan on my face before I felt like I could handle the flu shot I still had to have before leaving.

Tim and I had a good laugh on our way out of the office because of this new maternity photography advertisement they just posted. So cheesy.

The great news is that I passed my glucose test! I don't have to take that awful test again and I get to eat pie at Thanksgiving and Christmas. I'm very happy about the pie.

The mediocre news is that I'm borderline anemic. This explains so many things: the drama after the blood draw, as well as the fatigue, headaches, and irritability I've had for basically my whole pregnancy. I really wish I hadn't dismissed these symptoms as normal pregnancy pains and asked for help earlier.
I've done some research and realized that my diet is all wrong for getting enough iron and being able to absorb what little I was getting, which led to my low hemoglobin numbers. I just don't like red meat, clams, cereal, beans, or dark green leafy vegetables (I basically eat turkey sandwiches and romaine salads every day). I do like coffee and tea, which impedes the absorption of iron. Also, not only had I stopped taking my prenatal vitamins, but the ones I was taking didn't have any iron in them to begin with!
I have 12 weeks to build back up my hemoglobin numbers before my due date. I really want to go into labor feeling as strong as possible and not have to have a blood transfusion after it's all done, so I'm back on another brand of prenatal vitamins that has all the iron I need and I'm planning my meals better, with more red meat (gag), dark green salads, and maybe even some beans. Tim, lover of cow, is thrilled.

slammed into my body

Going into this, I knew that pregnancy was going to change and challenge me in unexpected ways. I was hoping it would be a very maturing process, and I would end the gestation feeling very accomplished, able to name all my new character skills, and be able to think to myself: "That was a great exercise. Now I have everything I need to be a good mother". 

I've reached the 2/3rds mark and I can tell it's not going to end that way at all. The end of pregnancy is only going to be the beginning of the learning curve of motherhood. Instead of some divine motherly wisdom, I've just been slammed into my body. By that I mean that I am gaining a solid revelation as to the fragility of my own frame. It's a basic lesson that's hammered into my head every day, and maybe it's the final sweeping away of the illusion of pubescent infallibility, but I just feel weak. 

I'm watching this transformation happen--all on its own, I might add, it's totally out of my control--and I can't believe how much my insides are literally being stretched and pulled, shoved up and pushed down. Incessantly kicked from the inside, chemistry levels thrown to extremes, blood supply leached away to other sources, joints softening and spreading apart, processes slowed down and sped up with no regular schedule for me to learn. I have to move slower now. Jumping out of the car and hurrying down the sidewalk isn't an option. I have to sleep more, and I'm so bored with myself for sleeping so much (when I can). Seven hours used to suffice, but now I need ten or twelve. If I just ate 3 hours ago, I need to eat again. All of this self-care I now require is monotonous to me. I used to be able to run for so long on so much less. A newly pregnant friend of mine described herself as a selfish wuss, and I thought: "That's perfect. That's me too."

And, to top it off, I am growing ever more aware that everything extra inside me has to grow larger still for 3 more months, and then it has to come out. Will I violently explode? Will I be ripped in half? What will be left of me in the aftermath? 

My husband told me that when he was a very young boy, he understood three things for sure: men had to go to war, and women had to give birth...so thank God he was going to be a man.

I know that I am only seeing half of this whole situation clearly now, because when it ends I'll finally be faced with the glory of all the work I've been doing when I see my baby's face. I know it will be worth it, and even though I don't feel like it right now, my body is actually the strongest and most productive it's ever been. As much as I am exasperated by my pregnancy-induced limitations, I am also in awe of what women's bodies are capable of.