Tuesday, July 12, 2016


Ah, the glucose drink:  equal parts Hi-C and Satan’s semen.  #fact  

I had five minutes to consume the repulsive concoction.  Always the overachiever; I chugged it in two. 

Oh boy, did I feel lousy!  My heartburn was off the charts.  I was sick, unfocused and sluggish.  But as I waited the requisite hour for my blood draw, I tried to remain positive.  It will all be over soon I repeated to myself.

At least that’s what I thought until the nurse called today with the results.  158.  Almost 30 points over the normal level.

I’d have to schedule another test – this time a three hour fasting blood draw.  Again I’d suffer the saccharine solution.  Again I’d starve.  Again I’d be KO’d for 48 hours. 

Of course, next up in the parade of feelings was guilt.  Did I do this to myself?  Could this have been prevented?  Have I endangered my baby? 

A few deep breaths later I did some research.  Here’s my rudimentary understanding so far:

During pregnancy, it seems the placenta is created to manage baby’s food and water intake – like some kind of bloody, amorphous nutritionist.  

"...the placenta is created to manage baby’s food and water intake – like some kind of bloody, amorphous nutritionist."

Unfortunately, the placenta can step on your own insulin’s toes.  With baby’s new food management system interfering with yours, the body produces more insulin to compensate… and away we go…

I read somewhere the normal pregnancy weight gain for a woman of my BMI is 1 pound a week – if that’s true, I’m right on target.  And while gestational diabetes does occur more often in females over the age of 25; it seems without a history of obesity or familial diabetes I had no real reason to fret ‘til now. 

If this all a fluke – great!  But even if it isn’t, I read most women with GD go on to adjust their diets; birth healthy babies and quickly shed the condition themselves.

I should know one way or the other early next week.  Until then, I’m resolved to walk a little more and eat a little better.

I’ll keep you guys posted! 

Tuesday, July 5, 2016


Anyone who truly knows me --- knows I’m busy. 

When I met Will I was working an office job 8-4, a restaurant gig from 4:30 to 11 and I had just wrapped up a charity theater performance in Yonkers.  

If we hung out on a weekday it was in the city after my Monday singing lesson.  

If we met on a weekend it was for coffee after my Saturday double shift.    

Sleep was a rarity, food was an afterthought and my body somehow miraculously kept up.

Now I’m lucky if I can make it through a supermarket without needing to sit down.  And unfortunately, I’ve spent much of my pregnancy in solid denial of this fact. 

Last weekend is a prime example.  Will and I had a list of to-do’s and decided we’d knock them out in one day.  The itinerary seemed simple enough:  Home Depot, Home Goods, Michael’s and Kohl’s.  This would have been child’s play to pre-pregnancy Alex.  Which is probably why Will was shocked when I had to tap out only half way through our journey.

“Will, I think I’m done.” I panted; bent lifelessly over the cashier counter.

“Oh come on!” he joked.  “Just two more stores!  You can make it.”

“No – I’m sorry – I can’t.  I can’t take another step.  My legs are killing me.”

The cashier smiled with acknowledgement.  Will now had an audience to play to and he knew it.

“WELL!  You had no problem asking me to carry a bench from one side of the store to the other.”

The cashier giggled.  As to not make him look bad I played along.

“First of all, no you didn’t.”  I laughed.  “And second of all, I’m just really tired babe.  I’m sorry.”

Once in the parking lot I burst into tears.  Will was flabbergasted.  He had no idea his harmless jokes had hurt me so badly.  The truth is I wasn’t angry with him – I was embarrassed and frustrated with myself.  I couldn’t believe I had set us up to fail so spectacularly.

Rationally, I know this exhaustion is a function of my pregnancy weight; that my body will return and with it - my tolerance for a fast-paced life.  But for now, pregnancy is an exercise in slowing down and taking care of me.

Since the events of retail-gate I’ve taken a pregnant pause.  I’m saying no to things I can’t do and factoring more down time into my personal routine.  When baby Jesus grants me a burst of nesting energy I take full advantage by cooking a couple meals ahead or pushing through the laundry a day early.  But when my body says ‘stop’ – I do.  Because I have one job right now; and that’s getting me and my son out of this thing alive.

Frankly, everything else can wait.