So, if you have been following the comments, you’d know that I have been diagnosed with borderline gestational diabetes—a condition that lasts only until the minute I give birth. Luckily, it does not transfer over to the child and is generally controllable through diet alone—or so I thought.
I met with a diabetic clinician and a dietician earlier this week, where I was told, in fact, that borderline diabetics are often those most likely to require insulin, as it may not be a diet issue, but rather a result of the placenta either not producing enough insulin or the body being resistant to the insulin it produces. I might have this all wrong—there was a lot of medical mumbo jumbo taking place during those two hours, but I think that’s the gist of it.
Anyways, before deciding my insulin-shot fate, the doctors have deemed it necessary to monitor my blood glucose levels daily and for me to continue keeping a log of what it is I eat each day. The journaling bit is easy enough to do since I had already started it back when I heard that diabetes could be a possibility. (The clinician and dietician were impressed by my pro-activeness. Gold star for me.)
When they looked at my diet, they determined that there really wasn’t anything wrong with it. I already stay away from concentrated sugars because:
a) I’m not a huge ‘sweets’ fan to begin with.
b) I had already cut out anything sugary from the diet, just to be on the safe side.
I eat regular meals, which are high in fibre and chock full of nutrients. I drink lots of milk. I eat protein with just about each meal and I've been careful about my carbs. Which leads the professionals to wonder if it my case is an insulin issue. In order to determine this, we need to keep track of my glucose levels, which is why they have given me a glucometre (or whatever it’s called).
Yes, folks. I get to stab myself seven times a day until the end of my pregnancy, just to ensure that I am in the right blood sugar range. Good times. Two days into it so far, and I’m as normal as can be. Hope it continues.
Next week, I meet with them again. My results will determine whether or not I need to add a daily insulin shot to the mix. Boy, do I love being pregnant. Sigh.
On the upside—apparently, when you develop gestational diabetes, you are awarded a consolation prize. Swag! Not only did I get my nifty little metre, my log bog and all my sample strips and needles, but I was given a handy, dandy diaper bag, complete with change pad and insulated bottle pockets! Inside was a big, thick paperback on naming your baby the Canuck way. Yeah! (Actually, it really is quite a nice bag, but what the hell? Seriously—a promotional diaper bag?)
That sucks about the testing, but hopefully it means that by dealing with all these issues during the pregnancy that you'll have a really easy labour! I had no issues with the pregnancy (and I ate way too many sweets, the work candy shop was right outside my office!) but 30 hrs of labour with 2.5 of pushing because while little miss stubborn was head down she refused to move into the proper position or face the right direction!
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