Hope Renewed

I was "down in the dumps" last week. And I know to most people my reaction would seem silly, but to me it felt so personal. I've been cruising right along through this pregnancy and almost every bit of it has been different than Riley's. So, though I knew the chances were slim from the very beginning I had been fostering a little flicker of hope that this time around I would be diabetes free. Because with Riley I was most certainly not, but I was blissfully unaware of what it meant to have it then.

From the minute the test came up positive I threw myself into being proactive, exercising more and eating better. As the first test grew closer, I felt suprisingly hopeful that I would pass. I badgered the nurse and the doctor about when my results would be in and was told "24 hours. We'll call you if something is wrong. No news is good news."

The first day, everytime my phone rang my heart skipped a beat, but then 5:00 rolled around and there was no news. My flicker of hope grew into a flame. The second day, went by and at 3:00 pm, still no news. My hope was bursting into a fire. Just to be sure I called the nurse line and left a message asking for my results.

At 5:00 the phone rang and I hurriedly apologized to the nurse about bothering them, "It's just that I had it so badly with my daughter...". She didn't even let me finish my sentence before saying, "Oh sweetie you failed it."

Tears immediately sprang to my eyes as I choked through the rest of the conversation with her. The memories of self injections, constant monitoring, severe diet restrictions and most importantly the danger it presented to myself and the baby swarmed in my head. I had tried, I had failed, and whether you think it silly or not, I was devastated.

The follow up to failing the first test is the 4 hour lab test whereby you drink a sugar drink and then sit in a chair for four hours and have your blood drawn every hour. By this point I was sure I had it again. The failed first test combined with the fact that I had it with Riley was enough for me. My hope had been doused and wasn't even smoldering.

But, I had put on my big girl undies and was dealing with it. I had put myself on the very strict diet I had done with Riley's pregnancy and notified the family. Exactly 24 hours after the lab test, as I headed into the gym I called the nurse line and left a message asking them, "Can you just call and get the order faxed for me to schedule the next step? I'd like to move this process along."

An hour later I was exercising away and picked up the nurse's call mid elliptical. I wasn't stopping my workout for bad news, I figured the endorphins would only help. But a minute later I did stop and for the first time in my life I almost told a stranger to "Shut your mouth."

Because it turns out despite failing the first test, I passed the more official 4 hour lab test and that I don't have active gestational diabetes with this pregnancy. At least not to the degree that I did before, which means myself and baby boy are so much safer.

You might think that I rushed home and ate a cake washed down with a coke to celebrate. I did not. Instead I've learned that this type of diabetes can be reversed with diet and exercise and I intend to keep on this path hopefully well after baby boy arrives.

Speaking of baby boy, here we are at 28 weeks.



And if you've made it this far through my post, please take pity on me and disregard my dirty bathroom mirror.