I have to redo the dreaded 3-hour glucose tolerance test Wednesday morning. This time I am bringing my own blanket and pillow so when the inevitable lightheadedness and nausea hit, I can lay down on something familiar.
I have been on a very low-carbohydrate diet since I got the dreaded news last Wednesday (the test was last Tuesday) and I have read that even doing that for a week can significantly improve your insulin resistance. Admitedly, I was eating a lot of bad carbs before the first two tests. Even worse, I was drinking a soda a day because it helped settle my still-sensitive stomach in the late afternoon. Even if I “pass” this second 3GTT, I am going to keep eating like this for the duration of the pregnancy.
He-beastie, by the way, thinks glucose tests are fantastic fun. He goes bonkers when I eat something as mundane as salad, so the rush of the 100mg of glucose pounded down in a mere five minutes is utter ecstacy. It looked like someone was popping popcorn in my uterus — POW! BAM! POP! — for at least 30 minutes once the glucose hit his system. Too bad we can’t combine the glucose test with the ultrasound on Friday as it would be a hoot to watch that kind of activity on an ultraound monitor.
Writing about gestational diabetes is boring, so let’s write about something less boring: boobs!
I have not had to size up in a bra yet this pregnancy. I have made do with the bra extenders but I suspect that sometime in the near future I am going to have to invest in new maternity/nursing bras.
The problem is that the only maternity store in the area sucks. Really sucks. I had the lady (the one lady that seems to work there) measure me a few weeks ago and she measured me smaller than I actually am now. Aside from the sizing issue, their bras were awful and flimsy. There was no way they were going to hold the girls now, let alone in a milk-engorged state.
I really like high quality bras and I see the higher cost as an investment in my comfort. (They also tend to last much, much longer, as long as you hand wash them.) Pre-pregnancy #3, since I know my size, I just usually ordered them off the internet. The question is, though, what do I do about a nursing/maternity bra? Do I order one in one size up via the internet? Do I wait to measure until I am in labor and then quickly place an internet order? How much bigger will they get? Do I just go up a cup size? The hospital suggests you bring 2-3 nursing bras to the hospital, so most women must buy them before they have their baby, right? Lastly, is it wrong to buy maternity bras off the internet without ever being fitted?
I passed my 3-hour test, but only by one point. (AGAIN WITH THE ONE POINT!) They do four draws, and having high sugars for two out of the four warrants the dreaded “gestational diabetes” diagnosis. I had one high one, and one that was only “not high” by one point. That is way too close for comfort.
I am back on, irony of ironies, the South Beach Diet. Bring on the omlettes!
Edit: I am going to eat a very low-card diet for a few weeks and then repeat the 3-hour glucose test. Last time I had to lay down 30 minutes after drinking the orange-flavored, slightly carbonated syrup (OFSCS) so I didn’t throw up and/or pass out. The nice ladies at the lab let me sleep there for the rest of the test, only waking me when I needed my hourly sticks. It was not a fun test, but I want he-beastie to be healthy, so I am now back to pretending that sugar-free lime Jello is a delicious dessert. “Mmmmm…. delicious jelly donuts sugar-free lime Jello.”
Actually, I have a lot of points to make, but let’s not dwell on all those other points. Let’s, instead, focus on the one point that pushed me over edge of my glucose tolerance test. The cut-off was 130 and I was (do the math! do the math!) … 131.
Now, I am not too worried, especially because we realized today that I had just probably not fasted the appropriate amount of time. My OB’s office told me not to eat/drink after midnight, an order to which I dutifully complied. I drank the liquid at 7:15AM and had my blood drawn at 8:15AM, which is only 8.25 hours of fasting as I had a bowl of Coco Krispies just before midnight. The lab today told Mr. MC that you need to fast for 10-12 hours to get an accurate reading.
Given the risks, I understand why they are moving to the 3-hour diagnostic test. Still. Ugh. Frack.
On more optimistic note, we finally registered at the dreaded baby megastore (alternate names: “Parents R Suckers;” “Babies R Expensive;” or “Fetuses R Consumers?”) I have allowed a shower to be scheduled at the end of May. We are also going to childbirth classes on May 2nd and 3rd. The world thinks I am actually having a baby or something?!?
He-beastie’s non-cooperative nature has also landed us another ultrasound on May 2nd. He still, after two post-20 week ultrasounds, refuses to show the nice ultrasound lady the lower part of his spine. They want confirmation that his spine is healthy before clearing me for a vaginal delivery. I am pretty sure everything is fine if he can sleep with his toes on his forehead, but I am always game for another ultrasound. I also gained 2 lbs. in 2 weeks, so they are no longer concerned with growth issues, even though I am carrying “small.”
Yes, it would have been better if Mr. MC had been able to join me.
Yes, it would have been better if I had been able to meet Alice (of Into the Rabbit Hole).
Yes, it would have been better if I had not had to deal with a wicked migraine.
Still, I had a great weekend in NYC.
I ate delicious food (the pizza restaurant was amazing — I almost cried it was so good) and then discovered the joys of pregnancy-induced heartburn. Regardless, it was worth it. I even had (GASP!!) a glass of wine with my awesome Italian food, because the water I was drinking was just not doing it justice. (I had, however, previously asked for my OB’s permission because I am that sort of annoying patient.)
I slept in the mornings until I woke up and then went to bed whenever I wanted. Clearly, I need a lot of sleep because I never woke up before noon. It was wonderful. My hotel was just a few blocks off of Broadway, but my room was so quiet I could not hear a thing from the street.
I shopped, and since Mr. MC wasn’t there, I did all my girl-y shopping: maternity dress, shoes (ON SALE!!), purses, over-priced salon products, etc…. I had a manicure and pedicure at Bliss salon. I had a pregnancy massage and a pregnancy facial at the Edamame spa. I lack the vocabulary to describe how utterly delicious pregnancy pampering is.
Some random things I discovered:
1) He-beastie is a very active little fetus. He also likes shopping on the Upper-East Side, juding from the increased quantity of movement. He also likes it when I eat, lay down, or look at expensive art that I can not possibly afford in this lifetime.
2) Maternity stores are still evil. They are filled with happy, glowing pregnant women and annoying, bitchy salesladies who make me uncomfortable. “Destination Maternity” on Madison Avenue manages to pack three stores of them into one building, all carrying clothes at different price points. Two of them (A Pea in the Pod and Mimi Maternity) do not carry XL sizes, as the stupid skinny liitle anorexic bitch sales lady informed me. You sell maternity clothes and you don’t carry XL? Really?? The one time I need a nice dress, and I am left with the low-end line (Motherhood Maternity) that only sells 100% polyester or 100% cotton jersey dresses. I found one that worked after I threw a black jacket over it, thankfully.
3) I have chloasma on my face. It was weird to have freckles on my nipples, but aparently all the new freckles on my face are the beginnings of the “mask of pregnancy.” Harmless, and much less annoying than pukeapalooza or the heartburn, but I still bought the lightening cream.
4) My migraines are partially caused by hormones and, according to the woman who gave me my pregnancy massage, the fact that my neck is a bloody mess (my words, not hers). It is painfully tight, and while the massage helped, it was only a short-term fix. I found a massage therapist here who does pregnancy massage, so I think I am going to have to start going more often. Having 2-3 migraines a week is not fun.
Tomorrow I am 28 weeks pregnant. 7 months. Holy crapola.