Happy New Year! Ready for my resolution?
(1) Do not get pregnant again. Ever.
I know what you are thinking. She’s being dramatic. Or the ever popular: How dare she hate on pregnancy – doesn’t she know there are many women who can’t have babies on their own?
Judge me all you want.
And now for my final day of 2016, and how I went out with a bang…
I scheduled my glucose test appointment for 7 a.m. on NYE. I figured, who else would want to voluntarily get blood work done on NYE? I will be in and out. And that should have been the case.
In case you want to read about my glucose test with my first pregnancy, because who doesn’t want a good laugh, you can view that here: Glucose Test – Pregnancy #1
After my last glucose experience, I did a lot of research as to why my body reacted the way it did. My own not-a-doctor conclusion: I’m at the opposite spectrum as gestational diabetes. No one in my family has a history of diabetes. My last baby did not weigh over 9 lbs. I did not have substantial weight gain during pregnancy #1, and started this pregnancy off at my pre-pregnancy weight (big thank you to breastfeeding, because there is no time for “exercising” in my house). So really, no reason to think that this pregnancy is going to be any different, other than the fact that I hope this baby stays put until at least week 37.
So I woke up bright and early that morning, and my husband even woke up to make me eggs. I had already cleared this with my doctor. She said eggs, plain greek yogurt, whole wheat toast, would all be good things to have in my stomach prior to drinking the death cola. Protein. Just not a bowl of Fruity Pebbles or Count Chocula, to my dismay.
I ate the eggs and a little bit of yogurt. Then, a familiar feeling of nausea came over me. “NOT TODAY! NOT NOW!” was all I could think. And before I knew it, I had thrown everything up.
It was about 10 minutes before I had to leave for the diagnostic center. My nerves were setting in. I grabbed the rest of the yogurt and an english muffin with peanut butter and headed out the door, thinking “if I can stomach just a little of this during my drive, I will be okay during the test”….onward.
I walked in, signed in, and they promptly called me back to drink the death cola. I had explained to the woman what had happened before, just in case the same thing were to happen. She was very nice about it and told the secretaries up front so that they could keep an eye on me, just in case.
Side note: You get 5 minutes to drink the death cola. I have never been a “chugger” so to speak. As I’m sipping on the drink, the phlebotomist is just standing there watching me. So I asked, “Uh, I have five minutes, right?” And she responded with, “Yes, but I like to tell people to just chug it to get it out of the way”….NO PRESSURE. What the hell. Can’t I just sip this nastiness in peace for the five minutes I get? I don’t think it helped my situation by chugging it.
So I was escorted back to the waiting room, where there were probably three other people waiting. One of the nice secretaries came up to me and introduced herself. She said to let her know if I started feeling dizzy or weak. She also asked me to move so that she could have a better view of me from her seat, so that was nice. But this also forced me to move to the section where the other people were sitting. If I was going to pass out or puke, I would prefer to do that in private, thank you.
I brought a book with me this time, “Something Borrowed” – which I love. I figured it would keep my attention and make me worry less. So I popped that open and continuously read and reread the first two pages. What was wrong with me? So I put the book down and just started looking around the room. I tried to get comfortable by sitting back a little and letting my arms just lay instead of trying to prop myself up. I figured any extra form of burning energy would be bad news.
Approximately 20 minutes after I chugged the death cola, I started to feel it – exactly like the last time. I started to sweat, shake, get dizzy, feel weak…ALL AT THE SAME TIME. I quickly got the secretary’s attention. She called the phlebotomist and then proceeded to bring a garbage can over to me. The phlebotomist appeared seconds later with a wheelchair. I thought I could hold off on the puking. WRONG. Puked my guts out in the waiting room. And the most embarrassing part. I managed to piss my own pants. Every time I heaved, GUSH. I was soaked by the time everything was out of my system. Luckily, I was wearing dark jeans, so you couldn’t tell at all. (PS: This peeing while vomiting was NOT a thing during my first pregnancy – I assume it is part of the aftermath of pushing a kid out of your body – I also pee when I sneeze now too – RIDICULOUS). So a big FUCK YOU to 2016. It was just not my year.
After that, they wouldn’t let me drive myself home. I was like, “GREAT, now I can call my husband who will have to wake up our daughter (girlfriend gets angry when she is woken up as opposed to waking up on her own), and then proceed to tell him that I need a change of pants because I peed myself in front of a few strangers – what a fantastic way to end 2016″….
Husband was great about it, though. He even thought to bring me a new pair of underwear, even though I didn’t ask for them. He bundled little chicky up and arrived about 20 minutes later with my change of clothes. He didn’t make me feel like a loser, so that was nice.
After he picked me up, we went through the Panera drive thru (that’s how you could tell I really felt like crap – I didn’t want ANYTHING) and got Kenzie a parfait and a few bagels for the next morning. I went to sleep as soon as I got home, and slept for a good 4 hours. I got up, ate a little something, and then it was time for Kenzie’s nap. I napped with her, for another 3 hours. SO WONDERFUL. My body clearly needed it.
Interesting website about healthy alternatives to the glucose test and what is in death cola (if your doctor allows, I guess): Glucose Testing
Moral of the story: We are only having two kids. And if I ever start to forget why I said that, I will have this lovely blog to look back on as to why two kids will be our max. And if I still have baby fever after this one for some reason, I’d like to use the wise words of my late grandma: “Feel free to push me in front of the 342 PACE bus”
UPDATE: I had my doctor’s appointment yesterday. She said that she didn’t want to put me through the 3 hour glucose test, since my body clearly wasn’t handling it well and that she has such high doubts that I fall into the gestational diabetes category. To satisfy the pediatrician of future baby, I do have to go to have my blood drawn on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of next week, after fasting for 8 hours (no death cola). This will just confirm that my levels are where they should be and that we have nothing to worry about. I’ll take it and consider it a victory that I will never have to take the glucose test again (hopefully).
I also was lucky enough to get my RhoGAM shot yesterday because of my blood type being rh negative. In the butt. I will get another one immediately after delivery. Yayyyy.
Now we are onto our check ups every two weeks. Yayyyy. Home stretch? Nahhh.