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So, apparently six months is the threshold at which people become confident enough that you are actually pregnant and not just packing on the donuts to comment on it. I’ve been getting comments from strangers at work all month long after not really having anyone say anything before the holidays.
The funniest thing about growing an enormous gut in three months (if I was showing in my first trimester, it wasn’t enough to matter) is that you don’t really notice it. You know that sense of where your own body is that lets you touch your finger to your nose? That sense totally still thinks I’m skinny. Therefore, I run into things.
Also, I grunt and sigh when I stand up, not because it’s actually All That Difficult, but because I didn’t expect it to be difficult at all. I’m all ‘oh, hey, that took effort’. It’s like someone handing you a grocery sack that you thought was full of bread and it’s actually full of canned tomatoes. You can totally lift either, but the tomatoes are a real surprise. I keep getting surprised by my own mass.
On the other hand, bending over to pick things up is difficult enough that I’d Rather Not, Thank You. I was super excited I was able to help Mike install new windows, but the hardest part was picking the shims up off the floor. Later when he was back inside the window, he asked if I could hand him the tape measure or pencil or some such thing he needed from a few feet away on the floor and by the third item I was all ‘how about you get it yourself’. Then I felt like a jerk and he felt guilty, so that didn’t work out so well and I went back downstairs to my couch.
The other thing I’m not really noticing is energy. I’m not falling asleep at work, or wanting to go to bed super early, or any other signs of being tired in my normal schedule, so I assume my energy level is fine. But if I try to *do* something it’s just BAM, done for the day. So I have the option of trying to accomplish things and feeling exhausted, or feeling absolutely fine but laying around all day. Titrating to something in the middle has proved problematic. Laying around all day when you don’t actually feel tired is kind of a bummer.
And yeah, I’ve already gained at least 30 lbs, depending on how exact you are about my starting weight. Yes, I was pretty darn skinny before, but strangely, I still feel relatively skinny now (and not just in the ‘my brain is messing with me’ way) my face and my feet and my arms and all areas not directly related to my stomach (unfortunately, this does not include my butt) all seem pretty much unchanged. I’m a bit concerned about how much larger I’m still going to get.
Oh, yeah, and when I got home and read my form about the glucose testing, it didn’t say a darn thing about eating restrictions before hand, so my overthinking was confirmed. I managed to find something for breakfast without going completely nuts, and the drink really wasn’t that bad – like flat orange soda, nothing terrible. The worst problem was freezing the back of my throat from drinking it so fast. They give you up to 10 minutes, but I downed it in one because I’m a rock star like that. Anyway, they haven’t called me back yet, so I’m taking that as good news.
The only downside of the appointment was that the blood-drawing-nurse, who I love and adore because she does not make me cry, and hasn’t had to stick me twice yet confirmed that I pretty much don’t have anywhere to put an iv other than in my hand. Even the one very best elbow vein she draws from isn’t big enough to use for an iv, much less anything conveniently located away from a joint. Not excited about this. Strangely, I’m sort of hoping that I have more blood draws scheduled so that I can ask her to take some from my hand. It sounds masochistic, but I’d rather practice with her, who is talented and has a teensy needle, before I have to deal with some stranger of questionable skills with a great big needle while I’m in labor. Having her draw from my arm has done a ton to get me over my fear of blood draws. Unfortunately ( o.O ???) I think I’m done with blood draws at this point unless something unexpected comes up.
So, tomorrow is my glucose tolerance test.
The way my office does it is I took a little bottle home and I’m supposed to drink it about a half-hour before my appointment. I don’t have to fast before hand, but she did tell me to have a low-sugar/carb breakfast. We went over a couple examples in the office, but I wasn’t fully prepared with possible breakfast menus at the time, so of course I feel completely lost now.
What I remember:
- Eggs and sausage are great. Of course. But I really don’t like eating that heavy of a breakfast unless it’s actually brunch. Ooof.
- White bread & OJ are no good. Seems reasonable, I don’t really like white bread that much anyway, and while I sometimes drink OJ, it’s hardly a requirement.
- Raisin bran would be ok except for the raisins. I’ve no objection to this, but I would need to go buy a new box of cereal. What exactly am I looking for on that box? I’ve noticed a lot of the high fiber ‘healthy’ cereals we’ve tried are actually quite sweet when you taste them, (presumably to trick people into eating them when they’re really rather be munching on count chocula). I’m guessing that’s to be avoided. I’m not terribly looking forward to reading the labels of the entire cereal aisle to find out which ones have stowaway sugar. Also, I sometimes like to eat my cereal with yogurt rather than milk. Is that ok? Better? Worse? Anyway, cereal isn’t my favorite breakfast in the winter, so let’s keep going.
- Wheat toast & peanut butter are fine. Ooook. That’s getting close. Unfortunately, I don’t *like* peanut butter on toast. Ironically, I think it’s too sweet. I much prefer cream cheese. That should be an OK substitution, right? But who eats cream cheese on toast? I’m guessing a whole wheat bagel isn’t the same thing as wheat toast. Speaking of which, what exactly do they mean by ‘whole wheat’? That label gets smacked on anything nowadays. How whole is whole enough?
So my current brilliant plan is that we have some super-dense dark brown european-style rye bread stuff* in the freezer that I think would taste OK with cream cheese, and I’m pretty sure it’s as whole-grain as you can get. So that should be safe. And a glass of milk? Because they said milk was ok on cereal. But maybe that’s because they’re assuming you’re using a half cup or so to get your cereal damp, not a giant tumbler because you are a milk-addict eating dry european bread and want to be hydrated for your blood draws.
So I start googling about glycemic indexes, because that’s the goal of this, right? And let me tell you *that’s* a bad idea. Apart from crazy diet sites and lists with stuff like ‘fried eggs’, ‘whole puffed amaranth’, ‘spelt flour’ and ‘mcDiety brand health-o-nutrient bars’, the most reputable science-y sounding stuff I found was a uk site essentially saying the whole thing is bunk, white bread is barely different from wheat bread, there are 3 different scales and nobody ever tells you which one they’re using, and none of them take into account that a grain of sugar and a cup of sugar are not the same thing.
But that doesn’t help me decide what to have for breakfast.
The crazy(est) thing about this is that I probably have nothing to get worked up over. Diabetes doesn’t run in my family at all (we’re more heart attacks at 40 type people). It’s more out of some twisted desire to follow the rules. Gyarrrh.
*Sort of like ruis maybe? But it’s a square loaf with slices. It’s from aldi, and I think it’s one of their odd imported German items rather than their super-budget items. Actually, I really like the stuff. It’s in the freezer because we stocked up on it, not because we hate it. My immigrant grandmother & I are alike in our passion for bread you can use to construct buildings with in a pinch.
I am currently wearing jeggings.
Worse, they are terrible, high-waisted, mom-butt jeggings.
*Hangs head in shame*
It was a fraught and treacherous path I took to this place.
When I first outgrew my normal pants, I went and found some low rise pants a few sizes bigger. Still, normal person pants. One of them worked great, and the others slid down a bit. Now, the ones that fit great are starting to get tight, and the ones that slid down a bit…well, they still slide down. I think the problem lies in my butt-geometry, not in my absolute size. I imagine they will always slide down. Anyway, around Christmas I went out and found a pair of honest-to-gosh maternity jeans with the giant stretchy belly and everything, that, surprisingly: ▸ Were long enough. ▸ Were a dark color without ridiculous distressing marks or glitter on the pockets or other things making them inappropriate for my work, and ▸ Were a reasonable price. So I bought them. And when I wore them the day after Christmas, I realized that while they fit nicely enough as I wandered around the dressing room, something as strenuous as walking from my living room to my kitchen made them slide down too*. Why does this happen? Why is walking in dressing rooms different?**
Anyway, having a grand total of three pairs of pants to my name (two of which slide down, one which is getting tight, and all of which need to be washed on the same settings) I end up traipsing about in my pjs when I do the laundry, which is less than ideal.
But for Christmas, my grandmother got me a pair of jeggings. Because, well, she’s my grandmother and apparently the lady in the store told her they were a good idea? And as I was doing my laundry in my pajamas, I decided to try them on before I returned them just for the heck of it.
And they fit. So I continued to wear them in preference to pajamas.
And they did not slide down.
So I have succumbed to the temptation of not having to hike up my pants 50 times a day and wore them to work.
On the upside, many of my maternity tops are long enough that they cover the terrible mom-pockets and it just looks like no pockets at all. Maybe? Is this ok? I suspect it may not be.
But I really hate hiking up my pants.
*I’ve since found that if I wear a tight-ish shirt over them, it helps keep them out of trouble. So they aren’t useless, just with limitations.
**I suspect some of the problem may lie in that while they are long enough in the legs I think they are too short in the torso. That stretchy stuff is supposed to come all the way up to your bra, yes? These come, eh, an inch short, and I’m still about two weeks short of my third trimester. It’s hard enough to find tall enough clothes for normal life, I despair of finding maternity clothes with enough height. I’m not even officially in the ‘tall’ range, but most clothes are still too short. I feel sorry for models and legitimate tall people.