I have gestational diabetes (pronounced diabeeeeetus).
And a shortened cervix.
And threatened preterm labor.
And I am on modified bed rest.
And, unfortunately, I was involved in a car accident yesterday, which means that I also have a beautiful black minivan with a lot of damage done to it.
And a shoulder with air bag abrasions.
And a forearm with bruises from the steering wheel.
I feel like I have been hit by a bus. Which is funny (kind of, not really) because I really was hit by a bus.
Yes, the girls were with me.
Yes, they are OK.
Yes, after an ultrasound and blood tests and several hours of monitoring, Baby Shiloh is OK.
Yes, I am OK.
Yes, this is the longest pregnancy in the history of all pregnancies.
But I am not here to talk about the accident. I am trying to erase it from my mind completely. I am not here to talk about my short cervix or bed rest.
I am here to talk about how much I love food…especially potatoes. By looking at me, you can tell I have never met a potato I didn’t like. Loaded, baked, fried, julienned, sliced, diced, crispy, fluffy, mashed, creamy, chunky, in soup, or shredded. I. Luh. Potatoes.
However, because I have the sweet blood, my potato intake has had to substantially lower. In fact, I haven’t had a potato of any kind in an entire week since I started monitoring my blood sugar.
You’re impressed I haven’t killed anyone. I can tell.
It’s not that you can’t have potatoes when you have gestational diabetes/diabeetus, but the portion size has to be so small that, to me, it isn’t worth it to eat them at all. I have no self control, so I cannot be expected to eat only half a small order of french fries or exactly 14 potato chips or whatever the ridiculous serving size is.
It is simply easier and better if I don’t attempt to eat potatoes at all.
When I met with the nutritionist last week, she happily explained to me that I could have a 4″ baked potato.
I didn’t know 4″ baked potatoes existed. The ones I buy at the store have got to be at least 7-8″ long. So, of course, I would have to cut it in half and act like I was so satisfied with that, most likely eating it with a baby fork so as to make it lost longer. Not worth it.
Suffice it to say that food has been on my mind constantly. I have been fantasizing about the meal I would have upon Shiloh’s delivery. I have obsessively looked up nutrition information for all of my favorite restaurants to see what I could get away with eating. I have found blogs and sites devoted to low-carb copycat recipes for things like desserts and Starbucks drinks…because my regular drink at Starbucks contains more carbs than I am allowed in my entire dinner. So there’s that.
I have thrown quite the pity party for myself…gotten jealous of the pictures people post of their food on Facebook (which is a problem in and of itself), cried when I couldn’t just eat what I was craving at the moment, and wanted to strangle Luke when he returned home from a birthday party and went on and on and on about how good the food was.
Clearly, I need therapy. Or wine. But since I am pregnant and have diabeetus, wine is out.
Before about 1 p.m. yesterday, I thought my life was over because of food.
But to think that my daughters, my unborn child, or I could have been seriously hurt as a result of that accident yesterday…it’s truly (yet another) lesson in perspective.
I told Luke this morning that I feel this pregnancy has been one giant test. A test of my strength. A test of my faith. A test of my sanity. A test of my priorities. A test of my willpower. In all of these areas, I have struggled throughout my life. I’ve made mountains out of mole hills. I’ve turned away from my faith instead of toward it. I’ve given in and given up too many times to count.
But this pregnancy isn’t letting me give up…and after each hurdle I have had to jump, I have learned something new about myself.
Yesterday, I learned that there is so much more to life than sugary, carby food. I will get through the dietary restrictions and soon enough, I will have a blissful reunion with carbs.
Of course, I have always known this. But now I will never forget it.
Family. Safety. Health.
Everything else is small potatoes.
