Allow me to educate those of you not familiar with the process of testing for gestational diabetes.
You are given this *lovely* beverage that tastes like an overly syrupy Lil’ Hug. You know, the drinks you LOVED as a kid that came in little plastic barrels? The doctor, or rather the nurse, since you will probably only see your doctor for a grand total of 45 minutes over the course of all your office visits, informs you that you must drink all of the beverage (it’s only 10 oz.) in under five minutes and that at EXACTLY one hour after you finish the beverage, you’ll need to have your blood drawn. Not a minute before, not a minute after. Not so bad, right?
The average pregnant woman only has to do this once. I’ve already done it three times. The first time, I passed it beautifully. The second time, I also passed the test but spent the rest of the day feeling like I was going to puke into my trash can at any moment because the first thing I put into my system that morning was that horrid orange beverage.
Today, while standing in line at the pharmacy to get the acne medicine the doctor was so kind enough to prescribe for me, I got a phone call. The chipper nurse on the other end of the phone kindly informed me that I’d failed the one-hour test I took last Tuesday. By ten points. Ten freaking points. I felt the tears well up before I got off the phone with her.
All along I’ve known this was a distinct possibility because of the PCOS. Prior to getting pregnant, we discovered that I was slightly insulin resistant. This is part of the reason I’ve taken the one-hour screening test three times so far. The other part is that my doctor likes to torture me by making me have my blood drawn. (Not really on the last part, but jeez, I’ve had my blood drawn at EVERY stinking appointment!)
So, tomorrow, guess what I get to do. I get to wake up ONMYVACATION and get myself to the doctor’s office by 8:30am where they will draw blood not once, not twice, but FOUR EFFING TIMES. Maybe from the same arm. Maybe even in the same spot! FOUR TIMES, people!? I will sit in an uncomfortable chair listening to terrible lounge music for three hours. And I won’t be allowed to eat anything. Did I mention I hate needles?
My biggest fear of this entire pregnancy has been finding out that I have GD, and yes, I realize I haven’t been given my death sentence yet. Gestational diabetes, while not the most serious thing I could have while pregnant, often leads to big babies. Anyone who has met my husband knows that he does not have a small head and is not a small guy. This child does not need any help in becoming a big baby. He will do just fine with that all by his one-sies, savvy?