I PASSED!

I took the GD test last week, and I alternated between bucking up the courage to call the Dr's and ask for the result and hoping that no news was good news or if it was bad news, not wanting to hear it. :) When I was pregnant with Lia, I took the test and didn't pass it. Their cut off number was 130, and my number was a magnificent 179. Needless to say, with that test I had to go in for the 3 hour.

However, I am HAPPY (beyond words!) to announce that I passed my one hour glucose test, with a minute reading of 97!!! WOOT WOOT! I literally was dancing around the kitchen when the medical assistant told me. I am beyond happy. Its my Christmas present. :) Thanksgiving miracle. Whatever you want to call it, thank GOD I don't have GD! :)

And in case you want to know WHY I was so scared of the 3 hour GD test, I dug around and found an old post from an old blog I did while I was pregnant with Lia. Its a long post, but if you want to read it, I'm sticking it below. :)

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So the last couple posts were from a while ago, but I just wanted to have “something” in this blog, so I used those. I’m much further along now. I’m 28 weeks today which means I’m a whole week into the third trimester. And since so far, the third trimester isn’t being that nice to me. Let me complain: my foot is asleep right now, I woke up at 3:20am with a charley horse that had me rolling around in bed, I woke up at 5am with starvation on my mind, and I might have gestational diabetes. And for a sugar loving gal like myself, that is utterly dreadful news. The first blood test consisted of me trotting into the lab (by the way, never go to the lab when it opens- wait until 11am or 3pm which according to the lab workers are the golden hours), drinking a disgustingly sweet lemon-lime drink and getting poked. I blissfully assumed that I was going to pass, but the next day I was called and told that the cut off for the test was 130 and I had failed it magnificently with a 172. Come in for the 3 hour glucose screening they told me. I still clung to a shred of hope. The next morning found me sitting in the lab from 9am until 12pm. I drank that foul liquid again (although this time it was orange and slightly more drinkable) and got stuck every hour on the hour for the next three hours. Except the last blood draw. For the first three sticks, the lab technician was a marvel. I could barely feel him insert the needle and after three seconds he’d tell me I was done and I’d resume my perch on the uncomfy couch in the lab and read my book. The last draw was just nasty. He stuck it into my vein (this poor vein by the way, had the honor of getting stuck six times in one week because apparently I have no veins in my other arm) and my vein apparently gave up. He made some off hand joke about how if they can’t get blood anywhere else they’ll go for the neck. I looked at him in horror. He became quickly subdued. He tried the same vein again, but this time, moved the needle around in a clockwise circle as it was in my arm. I felt ill. He tried to shove it deeper into the vein. I was afraid it would go right through. I wondered if I was going to embarress myself by fainting away. Finally he withdrew the needle and told me he was going to have to go for the wrist. I looked up at him with bug eyes. My WRIST? Are there VEINS there? I couldn’t look as he plunged his needle into my wrist. SO nasty. It’s not like it necessarily hurt more, but I’ve never gotten stuck in my wrist so the novelty of it made me feel ick. No blood there either. He decided to give my vein in the crook of my elbow another go. I prayed for blood. I think God decided I had been through enough and enough blood trickled into the tube. Hallelujiah. Did I mention that after the clockwork pattern with the needle QP went crazy in utero? I wasn’t sure if I was feeling nauseous and faint from the needle antics or hers. I stumbled out of the lab and went and got myself something to eat. Oh, did I mention I’d been fasting since 9pm the previous night? It was now 12:30pm and I was starved.

That was on Friday and it’s now been two days and some change since then, and I still have no results to my blood work. On one hand, I want to know, on the other ignorance is bliss. I’ve come to understand that I love my carbs and I don’t want to cut back on them. Maybe I should try bargaining with God?

Anyhow. Other than that, my life is going okay. QP is getting big and fat and apparently can now blink her eyes. Last night as I was drifting off to sleep she stomped REALLY hard on my side which had me flinging myself upright and cursing. She then proceeded to kick for the next five minutes… I think I scared her. This post is a little all over hte place, I will return to my normal coherent entries at a later date. :)