Pregnancy Body

Two weeks ago, the very morning my third trimester started, my body changed.

My belly looks like a sportsball hidden in my shirt. That, combined with an achy pain down on my pelvic bone (preparing to separate! says the doctor), make me walk like I'm on a ship in stormy seas.  It's not quite a waddle, but it's definitely not a walk.  I feel like I'm rolling forward on uneven ground.  And I let out porcine grunts every time I get out of the car.  Or into the car.  Or stand up.  Or sit down.  Even more hilarious, when I'm lying on my side and want to change sides, I try to roll.  Sometimes I get stuck on my back in the middle.  So I try using my limbs to propel me the rest of the way by waving them in the air.  I feel like a beetle stuck on its back.  I don't usually hit David with the flailing bug-legs.  When I (accidentally) do, he very kindly gives me a little push to launch me to my destination.

There are still 10 weeks to go, folks!  It's only going to get more entertaining from here.

Probably the most disappointing pregnancy body development, I failed my glucose test.  For the laypeople, that's the blood sugar test in which they take a pregnant woman, make her FAST and go to the clinic that is not open early enough.  There, she has to chug a sweet syrup (think warm 7up before the carbonated water has been added - thick and painfully sweet) and get poked every hour for two hours.  All while not eating, drinking, or leaving the waiting room.  By the end, I had the shakes and the most severe case of the grumps in memory.  Ask David or Stephanie.  It was bad.

Anyway, I failed (or, rather, my pancreas was sabotaged by my overabundance of pregnancy hormones), and have gestational diabetes.

I cried for a few minutes hours to get used to the idea of a) being a diabetic and b) not being able to have carbs or sugar for the holidays.  Think about that last one for a while.  Turkey, but no stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls, or pie.  No alcohol, obviously, but also no sparkling cider.

I was floored.  I've been pretty darn conscientious about what and how much I eat.  I've been exercising some.  The doc reassured me it's just genetics, and I only barely didn't pass the test (I was three points off the last blood draw).  Well, cussedy cusswords.

Now, I get to check my sugars four times a day and go on a diet that I think might drive me to the brink.  I still have a phone meeting with the dietician, and I have lots of questions.  Hopefully, I'll be able to post some fun holiday recipes that are diabetes friendly.  Also, I probably won't gain a gazillion pounds, for which I will be grateful when February rolls around.  And most importantly, Crusher will be healthier and under 13 pounds.  Hopefully.