So most of you know that when you hit the third trimester of pregnancy, they test your blood sugar levels. With this test you have to drink some 'delicious' SUGAR WATER. When I showed up for my test, I asked for a cup and just chugged it. It wasn't SOOOOOO bad, but definitely wasn't the best thing I have ever tasted. They took my blood an hour after I drank it and I was off. They told me that within the next few days I would hear back as to the results of this test.
Sure enough, just a few days went by and I got a call that I had to come back in for the THREE HOUR test, for my numbers were too high. Not by a lot, but more than they like. I could not eat or drink anything but water 12 hours prior to this test. I was so downed by all of this. I just wanted to have passed and have it be done with. Plus I have never in my life had anything wrong with me medically.
I show up for my three hour test. They take my blood, I drink the drink... (that had TWICE as much sugar as the first) and wait for the first hour to pass.
Poke number one.After the first hour passed, I was ready for round two. I HATE having them take my blood, so I had to brace myself. Call me a baby if you want but it's true. I don't love it. So I walk back to the lab and sit down. A new blood taker was there to take mine. He couldn't find a vein in the first arm he tried. He wiggled that stupid little needle in my arm and I instantly felt lightheaded. I guess my face turned white cause he kept asking if I was ok. He then asked for my OTHER ARM. "ARE YOU SERIOUS?!", was my exact thought. I start sweating and seeing stars like I was about to passout and melt out of the chair and onto the floor. (Mind you I'm sure it had something to do with my first empty, now sugar filled belly) I gave him my other arm reluctantly and asked for a drink of water. I should have taken the picture of the 'drink' he brought me. Probably a swallow. No joke. He FINALLY got my blood and decided I needed to lay down before I passed out. As I layed down in my own little dark cold room, I started my hour wait for round three.
TRY number two.
Actual poke number two.
Me in the rad bed... with my head phones... thinking that Colston was going to wiggle right out of my side due to his CRAZINESS from all the sugar in my system.After the hour wait was up, I had to go for my third poking round. LAME. But I was happy to see that the FIRST lady I had was there to take my blood again. I was glad because she didn't seem to have a problem finding my veins.
Poke number three. (well four... thanks to the lame-o)At this point I was ready to be DONE. I texted Brandon from the waiting room while on my last hour wait. (He had dropped me off and was going to pick me up) I told him that I wasn't done but I was ready to have him there with me. I was starving, weak, and still had my last round of neeeeeeedles. So he came and sat with me for the last half hour and was there for the last poke.
The LAST poke.So I finally got to go and get something to eat. Then we headed to our new house to finish painting and getting moved in. I was a bum the whole day... Brandon kept telling me that I would pass and everything would be fine. I kept TRYING to believe him but didn't.
GO FIGURE. Since then I have been classified as having gestational diabetes. I have to now poke my fingers four times a day to check my sugar levels. Good thing that I have been able to control all of this just by diet. I could never give myself insolin shots. EVER. I have a hard enough time poking my finger. So with this pregnancy, this has been my biggest trial. I love sweets. And though I don't eat them much anymore, I have found ways with hints from my Dr. on how to still get some icecream in. :o) Other than that, my levels are normal and controlled and that's a good thing.
In my whole pregnancy, I have not cried. Not once. It's odd because you always hear, "You will be so emotional!", warning Brandon to be ready. The only emotion I usually show and feel is irritation! ha.... but I mention this because the night they called and said that I did indeed have GD, Brandon and I were sitting in our new empty house, at night, in the dark, on the floor, and he was trying to lift my spirits by pointing out the good things that would come of this. I just looked at him and said, "I think I am going to cry." And lo and behold, the tears came. I crawled over to him and layed my head on his lap and just cried for a little while. (this was probably the fifth time he had EVER seen me cry) Then I was done. He told me everything would be fine... and I told him I was just sad that I couldn't drink juice or have icecream anymore. :o)
BUT since then... I'm back to my irritated-no crying-ready to be done self!
THERE blog readers... is somewhat of a catch up of our life so far...
