Want to be admitted into the cloaked-behind-the-scenes-secret-handshake world of pregnant women? Like any other worthwhile secret society, there is a ritual, a signature drink, and a little discomfort. What is this test? The show of bravery? The indoctrination to the secret society? The ritual that binds pregnant women together? Later on down the line, I am sure it will become something more more banal, like comparing the quality of child safety seats, or poop. (I'm in denial of something called childbirth? Maybe?) As of week sixteen though? The great indoctrination is definitively the "Oral Glucose Tolerance Test." And I get to take it twice, once now, and once at around 28 weeks.
The ritual: Don't eat for twelve hours. Wake up early, and drive to the doctor's office, or the hospital, a bit sleep deprived, caffeine-less, and settle in for a three to four hour session.
The signature drink: Imagine the sweetest, thickest, orange Popsicle from your childhood-- a combination of maybe an Otter-pop with a concentrated shot of Fanta or Crush thrown in for good measure. Get thirty of them, and melt them down into one glass. Drink it fast--the entire saccharine solution in thirty seconds (they do give you five minutes to take the drink, but I'm trying to create some dramatic effect here...). If you puke, you have to start over.
The discomfort: For three hours, roll up your sleeve, get stuck with needles and give blood every hour.
This is the Oral Glucose Tolerance Test, given to every pregnant women. Some women, like myself, get to take the test more than once to screen them for gestational diabetes. Doesn't it have all of the trappings of a great coming of age ceremony... or hazing at a frat party?
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| CNP, 2014 |
After I finished my test, I went out to my car, ate two peaches and two tiger milk bars, and then drove to work. I got a call about an hour later from the hospital that warned me from any driving, as my sugar levels were so low they thought I might pass out. Fun times. I do feel a sense of accomplishment. No gestational diabetes. But a major milestone passed. I am in the secret society.
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| CNP, 2014 |
The little bambino this week is just the size of an avocado. I think the most amazing trait is that at this age (with their ears actually finally in place next week), they can actually hear and recognize music, voices, and even individual songs! I'm not sure how exactly I want to take advantage of this. I mean, my grandmother read the New York Times to her children before they were born. I think I listened to Mozart. While I like the idea of prepping our son or daughter for a dignified and cultured arrival on the planet, I am considering that they might nap better later if I blast some Metallica to them now...
Until next week,
Cat
A note: due to some recent events, I have a great deal more time on my hands than I did before, as you will discover in week 29. I hope to accelerate the blog a little to catch you up on recent occurrences, but we will see what I am able to accomplish. Cliff notes: I am well, bambino is well, but life can throw a curve ball. I'll leave it at that for now.
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