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Pass the Diabetes Please

The tragedy, in my mind, of my first pregnancy was gestational diabetes (GD). This is a pretty common pregnancy complication that can usually be kept under control with diet and exercise although, some women do have to test their blood sugar and take insulin shots. Mine was very mild but required a very strict diet.

I felt robbed. I was pregnant and looking forward to sending my husband out for junk food at the whims of my cravings. I was going to eat without thinking and enjoy every fattening minute.

When I found out I was pregnant for the second time, I began preparing for my diagnosis of GD by eating everything put in front of me, or in front of someone I knew, or in front of someone in my line of sight. I lamented my pending fate to friends and family. Sympathetic women began to pray for me and I began to pray for myself, that diabetes wouldn’t be a factor in this pregnancy. Now it’s not and I have the thighs to prove it.

I am 27 weeks along in my second pregnancy and weigh the same amount I weighed when I gave birth to my son. Guess who doesn’t have GD this pregnancy! This chick (my thumbs pointing at me).  A couple of things have gone awry. I was convinced that since I had diabetes with my last pregnancy, I would likely have it with this one as well. I threw myself a gluttonous pity party that lasted for weeks (put a month or two on it) once I found out I was pregnant. The plan was to get all strict once I was actually confirmed to have diabetes. But until then, it was a free for all smorgasbord.

Apparently, I need the threat of pregnancy complications hanging over my head to muster a modicum of self-control when it comes to food while pregnant.  One of the most sufficiently motivating complications that can be caused by GD is a large baby. I don’t think I need to explain why this bit of information has motivating qualities.  As it is, my prayers were answered and this pregnancy is so far, a very healthy one and I am very grateful.  You might even say I am very jolly. Scratch that. You may think that I am ‘jolly,’ but for your own safety, don’t say it. That isn’t a threat; it’s an honest warning from a hormonal hungry girl who has shaky self-control.

Now, if only I can keep myself and any one I come in contact with, away from chips!

He Toddles Now

The Day the High Chair Died