Pondering life while probably failing my glucose test (a Mini Post)
96: Nothing like a 3 hour glucose test to make you sink a little deeper into your thoughts
Even though I have been to this OB office countless times… I still always push the door when it’s a pull and vice versa. Go figure.
I waddle in, still not fully awake at 8am, almost 26 weeks— apparently not even in my third trimester yet, how frustrating— and get my blood drawn at 8:23. I then get the (sarcastic) pleasure of chugging a sugary juice that claims to be fruit punch flavor and am invited to sit dizzingly in the waiting room for the next 3 hours, as they call me in to get my blood taken every hour.
All of this to find out if I have gestational diabetes. Which would suck, but I am expecting it, I guess, as one is likely to get it again when one had it in previous pregnancies. Which, I guess I kinda did.
Last pregnancy, I had borderline results which meant I didn’t take medication, but I did have to track what I ate and prick my finger thrice a day for the rest of my pregnancy. I went into that with a needle phobia and came out with a bit less anxiety and tears on each poke, but still having a harder time than some, it seems.
I’m dizzy. It’s a fasting test. I practically lay down on the couch in the waiting room as the minutes of the hours tick by.
9:23.
10:23.
Only one more test left.
My future daughter, whom we have lovingly nicknamed Pokey, may need to be called “Punchy” going forward because she is extremely active and is currently trying to distract me from the torment of fasting.1 She might also just want my attention. Or she’s breakdance-fighting. Either way, I support her.
So, I’m curled up in a fetal position while my baby is boxing my bladder and— along with like 14 other articles— I read a post on Substack entitled:
I definitely feel empowered and inspired by my own experiences as a woman to be able to explain these things to my future daughter, but teaching a son is all the more daunting to me. I hope that having a more sensitive father, an even more sensitive and therapized teacher as a mother, and growing up with a sister can do some of the work for me. Still, anxiety gets me.
But articles like these help. Ones that explain thoroughly how patriarchy hurts all of us, by taking away the power of women and by setting a certain, unhealthy standard for men.
As I sit, bored, dizzy, and nauseous as hell in this office, it’s hard not to think about how I had the power to choose and that many women do not. I chose to stay pregnant because I wanted to. It feels a bit like a privilege in this current place in history to be able to choose, but not without pressure.
I sit here reading, slightly more comfortable as the AC kicks on, and think of how many laws are listed in that article that have or still are restricting the rights of women. How claiming that we have equal rights now is really just a way to ignore and silence women further.
I sit here, hoping I can get temporary disability parking approved so that I can more easily complete tasks and chores that didn’t used to be an issue for me. I think about how hard life is for disabled people and how it’s getting harder in this current presidency.
I sit here trying not to fall asleep because I haven’t eaten since 9pm last night and have already given 3 viles of blood. I think about the staff-wide required fasts that used to fill me with so much anxiety even though I secretly refused.
I sit here, admiring the times I refused and forgiving myself for the times I didn’t. I’m doing what I can now to live by what I believe is right and good and just, instead of what will keep me the most safe, the most employed, or the most comfortable.
I sit here, worrying about bro power podcasts and Youtube channels and man camps and church camps. I worry about how I won’t be able to protect my son or my daughter from the opinions and pressure and manipulation of society’s expectations and their peer’s (or family’s) adherence to it.
11:23. I am done. Finally.
I slowly walk to the elevator, remembering how I pushed myself to take the stairs until the end of my first pregnancy, remembering how unburdened I felt physically compared to now. I used to cry when I thought about not being pregnant with Oakley anymore. Now, I cry about having 3 months left to endure this pregnancy.
I drive to Boyer Bakery, as I deserve a treat and a half. I get mine and Zach’s favorite sandwiches, some yummy drinks, and probably too many homemade poptarts (it was Poptart Palooza after all).
I drive home and swallow the sandwich whole while watching episode 2 of The Righteous Gemstones with Zach. I ate too fast, I almost throw up but don’t (noice), and then we split one of the poptarts we got. Apple pie flavor. After a nervous tummy episode and a therapy session, I found myself still recovering from my glucose test.
Does that mean I probably didn’t pass glucose test? Probably.
I wonder this as I try to zone out and watch the often-poked at musical movie “Cats.” I turn it off less than halfway through because it definitely deserves to be poked at.
I find it really difficult to pack for camping with this headache and these patchy difficult thoughts I don’t know what to do with. I am putting a lot of work into the 3-part series I am writing, but not sure when it will debut. It’s definitely one of those topics that I think I could reflect on more clearly with more time, but it is also the main and sometimes only topic on my mind at any given point in the day.
If my head could have stopped spinning in that OB office, I would have been writing. Sometimes it feels like time I don’t spend writing is wasted. But then other times I feel I waste time writing when I can be living. And then sometimes I want to pause the moment so I can authentically write about it— to write about the perfect alignment of emotions that brought me to a certain observation, a certain outlook.
But sometimes, it just… slips away.
Like the moment I admitted feeling guilty about my first birth experience ending in a c-section, and the doctor assuring me it was not my fault.
Like the moment I first felt a kick this pregnancy, finally feeling excited instead of fearful.
Like the moment I said what I had been bursting to say and walked away proud that I stood up for myself.
Like the moment I turned on Kingdom Hearts and the long cut scene easily got Oak to sleep and his face was just so peaceful.
Like the moment I made the call, changed the plan, said the thing, realized the feeling…
If I wait too long to memorialize it, it’s not as tangible.
Either I can’t find the right words to reach the depths of that reality
or I can no longer grasp the emotion I first felt moved to encapsulate.
Whoops.
Here’s the cycle I’m in right now, according to The Pattern.
Interesting
Weekly Subscriptions & Cancellations💁🏽♀️
the ideas and soundtracks I want running in my head, or not.
🙋🏽♀️SUBSCRIBED to:
Planning things out
Celebrating being alive right now because of the steps that have been taken by scientists and medical professionals to prevent us from dying at larger rates
Ms. Rachel even more (if that’s even possible. Much love for my homegirl) as she puts her career on the line to support children’s rights to safety and healthcare in Gaza.
The idea that evangelical Christianity is not the only kind of Christianity. (And is, in my opinion, the wrong kind.)
🤦🏽♀️UNSUBSCRIBED from:
Being pregnant. #TeamTieTubes #TeamSnippySnip Morning nausea and becoming temporarily disabled while carrying so heavy. #WantMyBodyBack
People passionately against LGBTQ+ inclusion. Be better.
People who are cold everywhere and want the air to be turned off or down. Girl, we live in Arizona and it’s summer. Bring a cardigan.
The idea that crying makes me weak. As my amazing therapist pointed out, it is quite the opposite. I like crying. It’s a release and it’s how I process my thoughts and emotions, as I usually do in real-time. So, my crying is really a way I am showing my strength, as I hold hard feelings and process them in real time resulting in my tears. I’m gonna keep on crying on! If I cry a lot, it means I surely needed to cry a lot. #noragrets lol
Time for some TLCCC💕
Treating myself to: a breakfast burrito after difficult glucose testing appointment
Listening to: “Whoopsies! I made a mistake and it’s okay! It’s OKAY!” from Gabby’s Dollhouse, which I watch with Oakley every day and hear little kids singing all the time.
Crafting: plans for the summer to make time go faster and have more distractions
Craving: scrambled eggs and ice cream (separately but equally)
Caring SO much about: my friends TJ and Catbug, who are honestly such solid friends it’s made me question my worthiness a few times.
Only for the doctor, will I fast. Otherwise, I think of fasting as a type of self harm.