I’ve been putting it off for weeks now. When I looked at the work order last night it was dated June 16th. That was nearly a month ago. I told myself that today would be the day. I would stop putting it off. I set my alarm clock for 7:00 this morning and counted back ten hours so I knew when I had to stop eating before my 10 fast began. 9:30 pm if I wanted to be done fasting by 7:30 to begin the lab work. At 9:00 I was eating leftover pizza and a couple of spoonfuls of peanut butter along with drinking huge glasses of water.
At 4:00 a.m. I woke up with massive heartburn. By 5:30 I had convinced myself that I couldn’t go today after all and turned off my alarm clock. I’d try again on Thursday I told myself. What’s two more days since I’ve waited all these weeks already?
When I woke up at 8:30 I changed my mind again. No, I didn’t want to go but I was putting off the inevitable. Just go and get it over with I thought to myself. I dragged my tired butt to the shower and cleaned up to head out the door. Then I had this genius idea while I was in the shower—maybe I had missed my window of opportunity. Maybe I no longer needed to have the test done.
I called my OB-GYN’s office to double check. The nurse laughed at me—in a loving sort of way—and said, “Fat chance.” I had not missed any sort of window of opportunity and I still needed to get it done. So at 9:00 I begrudgingly drove myself to the lab to begin my 3 hour glucose test.
I think it was recalling how the three hour test went with my first pregnancy that made me not want to do it again. The nausea, the endless hours of waiting, and the feeling that I could eat a horse by the time I was done all just find out everything was fine made me feel like “why bother?” this time around. But this is a completely different pregnancy with a completely different baby that deserves the best care I can offer him. It was pretty much the same experience.
That first hour after drinking the glucose solution I was shaking and trying not to vomit. With each passing hour that feeling gradually diminished and was replaced by the growing desire to eat something. Having blood drawn five separate times in a three hour time period is never what I would call a good time and my arms are still a little tender where the girl poked me but showing minimal bruising. I’m pretty sure I’ll live.
I sat in the back—much quieter—waiting room this time which was nice. I even closed my eyes for a few minutes at one point. And while I didn’t have my husband with me this time around I did have two things that I hadn’t had with me 4+ years ago—a really good book and my smart phone. Those both really helped pass the time and before I started counting ceiling tiles out of complete boredom I was being beckoned back to the lab for my final blood draw.
Now I wait for what I hope will be good results.
What about you? Did you pass the one hour glucose test? Did you fail it like me and have to do the three hour? Or did you skip it all together?
Check out more of my story here.
Babble Guide: What you should know about Gestational Diabetes