My pregnancy has been very uneventful. So I guess it shouldn’t come as much surprise to have something crop up – that ‘something’ being gestational diabetes. I also had it with my pregnancy with Jake, and it was managed very easily with some dietary alterations. I only got the diagnosis this go-round a few days ago, so I’ve been back to testing my blood in the interim until I can see the perinatologist that my midwives recommend. After a few days of testing and eating smaller, more frequent meals that are lighter on the carbs, I’m already getting the hang of it again, and I’d say that the diet modification should hopefully do the trick this time, too.
The kids have had very different reactions to seeing me test my blood. Lane wants nothing to do with it and thinks it is completely weird and gross and generally runs from the room when I do it. (Which I think is a very normal and healthy reaction!) Jake, however… oh my goodness I could just eat him up. He saw me testing for the first time last night, and his three-nearly-four year-old curiosity piqued.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Well,” I answered, “because I have the baby in my belly I have to make sure I don’t eat too many sweet things. This actually tests my blood and tells me if I’m doing a good job.”
He was still very interested and wanted to see the whole process, so I showed him. He saw the little dot of blood that emerged from my finger, saw me get my “score” on the meter.
“Can you test my blood?” he asked.
I explained that I would have to poke him with a lancet, and he would bleed just a tiny bit. It might hurt just a little, but only for a second. He was cool with it. In fact he said, and I quote, “That’s OK mommy. I’m brave.”
So I tested his blood. He got his little poke, which he said didn’t hurt at all, and when his blood sugar came back at 114, he raised his arms over his head and cheered for himself like he’d just won a race.