Update: I hate to spoil the story from the start but I passed test two and all is well. I'm back to eating cookies on the reg.
Yesterday, I had a complete meltdown. I failed my first glucose test with a score of 138. I needed less than a 135. The best part? I had just eaten a piece of the best lemon cake from Mama E’s when I received the call. The plate was still resting on my baby shelf. Oh, the irony.
I cried all night.
This is baby #2. My fears and worries and constant obsessions have been zero this time around. I have been eating better, smaller portions and less dessert in an attempt to minimize weight gain and have a good delivery. I go to yoga and take long walks and chase an 18-month old around all day. I don’t even sneak a sip of my husband’s cold beer. I’m doing all the things and I still failed this test.
Oh, and did you see the latest “link to autism” article? It came out yesterday, demonstrating an (very slight, as in 1.4%) increased likelihood of autism in moms with gestational diabetes.
Cue the meltdown, complete with random crying all night and the phrase “I just want my mom” repeated over and over again. I was a hot mess.
I felt like I was failing my child.
Not only am I so much busier this pregnancy, I’ve been a lot sicker. My energy is completely gone by the end of the day and I don’t sit and daydream about baby toes and a cute little nose like I did with my first. My already neglected second child reminds me of his existence with perfect little kicks in the evenings and that’s about all the time we get together.
I have one job: bring a healthy baby into this world. And I couldn’t even pass this dumb, but important, test. I’ve always been hard on myself. And this feels like I let my child down.
“My God can, my God will, but even if He doesn’t, I will still believe.”
This mantra is one I repeat over and over and over and over. My pastor, Craig Groeschel, preached the best sermon series on this and it is one that comes to my mind often. I’m clinging to it as I wait to take that dreaded three-hour glucose test on Monday, complete with a required eight-hour fast (forced starvation) and three delicious, super-sugary drinks and blood draws. I’m praying for a good result to relieve my worry and anxiety.
But guess what? Even if it comes back positive, I will still believe.
I’m not one to do too much research when it comes to my babies. I believe in today’s world the positive advancements of modern medicine are often crippled by the never-ending, contradicting articles that put new moms in a tail spin. It always has been my personal philosophy to deal with it IF it comes, not waste time worrying for no reason.
It’s irrational, I know, to jump to the extreme feelings when there is still another test and a strong likelihood I will pass it. It is easily the hormones raging in my body, the same ones that make me forget things and yell at my husband. But sometimes they just overpower us and we have to take time to center again. To reflect. To be honest about things.
I cannot control my pregnancy, I cannot dictate my birth plan and I sure as heck cannot hand-craft my child.
But do you know who can?
My God can.
And today, I will choose to rest in His peace, to find comfort in His assurance and to avoid all sweets until after the second test just in case that helps.