How Sweet It Is

Turns out I blew the 1 hour gestational diabetes test, and will have to go in next week for the 3-hour funfest. Though my rational mind knows that many women fail the one hour but go on to pass the 3-hour, and furthermore that even if I were to fail the next test it would not mean dire, horrible things, just inconvenient and frustrating dietary changes, this has thrown me into a total tailspin.

It's brought up great steaming mountains of guilt (I make selfish, bad food choices and endanger myself and my baby), buried self-hatred (It's all because I am fat) and my typical panic when feeling out of control (Oh, God, now we'll have to switch to an OB and a hospital and what if something's wrong with the kid and Jesus this predisposes me to REAL diabetes and oh shit oh hell oh crap...). I want to repeat, rationally I know these things are not true and that the consequences if I should happen to have GD will be primarily matters of convenience and comfort, rather than life-threatening for me or for Harpo, but those are the thoughts that spew forth from my distressed brain.

Needless to say, Cait has been concerned at the directions my thoughts are taking, and has been trying to comfort me and help me approach this more calmly. She suggested that, in keeping with the Hypn0b1rthing, we try to come up with some affirmations to address this situation. So we've thought of things like "My blood sugar is stable and healthy," and "I eat healthful food for my body and my baby," and "My insulin levels are just what they should be." (Imagine, by the way, that all of these statements are made in a calm, soothing, serious, almost but not quite bore-you-to-death tone of voice). Unfortunately, my smartass brain keeps coming up with helpful statements like, "I drink Coca-Cola until it spurts out of my ears," and "My baby's blood is 99% sugar." Clearly, my insulin levels may be out of whack, but my sense of humor remains right where it's always been. Pretty smartass.