It’s No Longer About Me

I’ve blogged about this subject before, but I don’t think the reality of it really hit home with me until this weekend. Less than two weeks ago I had another doctor’s appointment and this one was for my glucose test. At first, I was a bit nervous about the test especially considering all of the horror stories I’ve heard from other mothers. My expectations were set and my resolve was to just chug the drink. I took my seat in the nurse’s station and willingly took the orange drink that was jostling around in the plastic container. It was super cold to the touch, and when I shook it up, I noticed it didn’t look like my visions of a syrupy drink chocked full of so much sugar that my teeth would begin rotting at the start of the first sip. I actually brought my toothbrush with me in anticipation, as I was eager to scrub off as much of the sugar as possible. I broke the seal on the lid, and closing my eyes I started drinking. After a few big gulps, I found that it actually wasn’t so bad, other than the fact it was extremely cold and my teeth are sensitive to cold. What it actually tasted like was an orange popsicle! Imagine my surprise! I even conveyed that to the nurse and with a laugh she explained to me, “there have been improvements.”

After going through the rest of my check up, where I found that I was perfect, the baby was perfect, and the doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with me, I took to my seat back in the lobby to await the final amount of time before I could have my blood drawn. Piece of cake, I was thinking! So, when the time came for me to go back to have my blood drawn, I was feeling pretty good and confident about my health. After all, I’ve never been obese. I’ve never been in ill-health. I’ve always passed every physical, every test, and up until I became pregnant with Davey, I was a work-out-aholic! Once my blood was drawn, the nurse informed me that if I didn’t hear anything back by the end of the week, then it meant I passed the glucose test. So, as the days ticked on, I never once thought about the test again. I’ve never had to think about things like this in my life, so why start now?

Unfortunately, on Friday at 2:30 in the afternoon, I received a voice mail from my nurse. I had passed the test; however, I barely passed the test. It was explained to me that anything above 139 meant that I was to come back to the doctor and endure a 3 hour-long glucose test. My score: 139. I actually gasped for a moment and almost asked for her to re-check it again, as if this were one of my tests from college and I could BS my way into the grade I wanted. Instead I listened as she told me to watch my carb and sugar intake. What was I hearing? I actually needed to watch what I was eating? I’ve never had to do that before!

Flash forward a week and yesterday I had a bit of a selfish and emotional breakdown, I’m ashamed to say. My husband has decided to change our diet around to accommodate me and Davey, plus it’s not such a bad thing for him to eat better. Yesterday morning, I wanted Belgian waffles for breakfast. My husband obliged but then told me that I couldn’t have any more bread the rest of the day unless it was whole grain. I waved off the comment as I wanted my waffles. Lunchtime rolled around and my husband offered to make me a tuna salad, or a vegetable salad, both of which sound absolutely appalling to me! This of course led to a discussion that brought me to tears as a wave of guilt and stress washed over me. I can no longer think about just myself. I must thing about my son and while I wouldn’t have it any other way, I have to admit the stress of constantly evaluating my daily food intake is a bit overwhelming. Couple that with my pregnancy hormones that have had me on a roller coaster of emotions all week, and my breakdown was to be expected.

I’m ashamed to say that up until this happened, I never really thought about the magnitude of my actions on my unborn child. I’ve thought about smoking and alcohol and it’s rather obvious the detriments to my child’s health where those are concerned, but the food that I eat????? Everyone tells me this is the one time I can get away with eating whatever I want, whenever I want. It’s like a get out of jail free card, or at least that’s how it’s been conveyed to me. I’ve quickly found out this isn’t true and what a shame I can’t indulge, but alas these are the sacrifices you make as a mother.


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