A Bloody Mess – Monday October 10th

A funny thing- about three weeks ago I started crying all the time, and getting up in the middle of the night to drink water, and I got lost in Walgreens because I didn’t bring my glasses and couldn’t find my way out. I felt so tender and sluggish and hated being around myself. I felt like I had a bad mood bomb strapped to my chest and secretly started worrying if I was going to turn into one of those bitch moms who yells at her kids all day while splashing chardonnay all over the carpeting.

Then I took my gestational diabetes test and failed spectacularly. I failed in such a 4th-of-July-grand-finally-way that I was ordered to see a specialist the next day.

The endocrinologist I was referred to was about 165 years old, with an office that oozed with pea green vinyl and dusty silk flower arrangements. His eyelashes went straight down over his eyeballs and I kept thinking- “Now this would be a good guy to be hanging around with during a dust storm”. He was the real deal old school “I actually care about my patients” doctor. No nonsense, nothing to freak out about, here’s the game plan, you’ll be fine. Before we left he urged us to have him paged for any questions, for any reason, at anytime. He handed us my new blood sugar tester and insulin and syringes in a crumpled tan Jewel bag. And I mean that in a good way.

Next we went to a nutritionist: young, adorable, redheaded with an understated wedding ring. She talked fast and used a highlighter to point out what she wanted us to look for on a nutritional label. I started to feel the tiniest hiccup of self-pity. This was nothing I couldn’t handle- I had been dieting most of my adult life. But I couldn’t help but lament losing the last fun activity a pregnant girl on pelvic rest can have: eating indulgently. I didn’t think I’d want to drag my new kit into restaurants, shoot up in the bathroom, then enjoy an austere meal of 60 grams of carbs or less. Plus, I hate diet coke.

So I did shed a few tears in the car after the appointments. I did worry that I was in way over my head and maybe we should have thrown in the towel after we lost Tommy and just gotten another dog. I worried about how much our families would worry that we had another issue to contend with. And I felt sad that my little daughter already had the weight of so much expectation on her shoulders. Oh yes…and I felt sorry for myself and for Tom. It just felt like the pile of shit got a little bigger.

A few hours later I had a better handle on the situation. The diabetes is more likely than not to go away after the baby is born. If it remains, I might be able to manage it with diet and exercise. The shots and finger pricks suck, but it’s nothing that a gigantic portion of the American population can’t handle, so I should be able to handle it for two months. Besides, this could end up being my ticket to skinnypersonville.

So here we are again, stuck between feeling grateful and self-pity. The best thing to go wrong during a pregnancy is something that can be carefully managed and monitored. I know I can handle this, I have a wonderful husband who is happy to take responsibility and help his family whoever we need him…including mewing and cooing when I need to be mewed and cooed at. The self-pity party…I hope that’s fleeting. Maybe in another week this will all be routine and I’ll wonder what I ever cried about. In the meantime, Baby Girl keeps kicking me to remind me that this is all going to be worth it.

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  1. Leslie Ann says:

    Yes, she will be worth ALL of it!!!!!!! HUGE HUGS!!!!!

  2. Kristen says:

    Sorry you are having to deal with this. But it is good it’s something that can be monitored and managed, as you say.
    Sending you hugs…

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