Thoughts During a Three Hour Glucose Test

Yes, I've managed to land myself in a lab for three hours to see if I can pass my second glucose tolerance test.  Hearing I didn't pass the first test sort of deserves a post itself, and the results of this one will definitely find their way to the blog at some point.

But today, I will share with you:

Thoughts During a Three Hour Glucose Test

It is sort of torturous to tell a pregnant woman she can't drink water for 12 hours.  I had to stop drinking water at midnight last night, and have been feeling like I'm stranded on a desert island ever since.

This test consists of a fasting blood draw, the consumption of a horrific sweet drink, and three more subsequent hourly blood draws.  Why, in this day and age of medical advancement, do we not have an easier way to take so many blood draws in such a short period?  Can I get a port here or something?

There's a man trying to get some bloodwork done who's doctor only put their last name on the order.  The lab people (not to be confused with swamp people) asked him for the first name of the physician.  He didn't know, but mentioned the doc was in the same building as the lab.  Instead of some super googling like I would do, the lab people insisted he go down to the doc's office and get the first name.  Ay yi yi.

Chatting with a mom and daughter pair who are super pretty (quite common here in Orange County).  They both had gestational diabetes.  They are skinny, blonde, perfect looking ladies.  This makes me feel better about maybe joining their club.

Fatigue and a headache are setting in.  This is not fun, and we still have 2+ hours and three more draws to go.

2nd draw down.  Hurt less than the first, but I feel like a nap big time.

Went to go sit in the seat next to the outlet but was shoo'ed away by a lady with a sick teenager.  While I appreciate the care, "no no don't sit near us, he's sick!" may not have been the best choice of words.

3rd draw down, one more to go.  Either that was the most painful or my patience is wearing thin.  I'm thinking a combo of the two.

A lady without a very cute three year old making conversation with me.  Asking me if this is my first, what the gender is, the typical questions.  Her son is ridiculously cute, with curly hair, and a darling little voice.  He gets a cup of water, offers his mom a sip, and then scolds her for drinking too much.  Makes me think of how excited I am for my little lady to be here, but one thing that doesn't sound fun is taking her to get her blood drawn.

Update: the cute little boy went back, got his blood drawn, and there were no tears!  I am inordinately excited for a stranger.

Baby M is kicking so hard up hear my ribs it actually is making my boobs move.  New party trick.  I love watching her move.  To me, it seems even more real than feeling her move.  It still feels crazy that there is a little person in there moving around.

15 minutes until the last draw.  The slowest 15 minutes of my life.

And finally, with a whole lot more wincing than the first three, I'm done.  Now I'm off to get a super unhealthy lunch, cause you know what?  It might be my last for eleven long weeks.