32 Goin' On 33

So, this ain't my first rodeo. About this time last year, I was at the tail end of my recovery from my first pregnancy, getting ready to start looking for a new job (because Walgreens sucks!), and rocking the new mom thang. It would only be another 5 months before we found out we would get to go through all of it all over again already. Fun. What I'm getting at is this pregnancy has kind of had a been-there/done-that vibe. Braxton hicks? No worries. Hip pain? Sucks, but we expected it. Heartburn? This kid better have a ton of hair to make up for it! A difference I have been noticing is how far forward and BIG I have been carrying this boy. My suspicions were confirmed at my 32 week (32 weeks, 4 days, thank you very much) prenatal visit.

I did not see my normal practitioner; I had a chat with another midwife in the practice just in case she is on call the night I deliver--she will be affectionately referred to as "the skinny bitch" from here on in. She has a big smile, a bubbly voice. I voiced my concern about just how large I have been feeling, and when measured, revealed a 35 centimeter belly (instead of the 32 it should have been). What?! She felt my tummy and said "Oh, yes. I can tell this is not a small person." Well, thank you, Sherlock; in case you weren't aware, I'm 5'10" and my husband is 6'3". Large people don't make small people. She sent me on my way, thinking all was well, albeit big. I got a call from her shortly thereafter, however. A paraphrasation:
The Skinny Bitch: "I don't know if anyone went over your glucose test results with you, but you were well above the line we want you to be under. You should take the 3-hour screening and be diagnosed with gestational diabetes."
Me: "My regular practitioner and I did go over the number; she said I was just below and we just needed to keep an eye on my diet and weight gain."
The Skinny Bitch: "Well, you are within your rights to refuse to take the test, but I would recommend you curtail your carbs and sugar; so, no white bread, pasta, potatoes, et cetera."
Me: "I'll do that."
The End. Bitch. Thanks for making assumptions about my diet because I'm fat. The only thing on that list I have too much of is soda. I like me a can of Sprite. Everything else is wheat.

But gestational diabetes is actually frikin' scary as told by WebMD. Matthew compared me not wanting to take the test to him not wanting to undergo his yearly colonoscopy in order to detect early signs of colon cancer. Left untreated, along with a high birthweight, my baby could be born prematurely, have underdeveloped lungs or die before or after birth even if carried to term. We would both be at risk to get diabetes later in life. I feel so bad for my little boy. I'm a good mother (not just tooting my own horn), but I am a terrible pregnant lady. Don't worry though, he will be much better cared for outside the womb, oddly enough. To end the long, terrifying story, I spoke with my regular midwife today, and she told me not to worry about the 3-hour test. My weight gain has been average (don't ask the number!), and it could have been a baby butt sticking out of my abdomen. When we go again in two weeks, if the measurements are that big, we will do an ultrasound to determine his approximate weight. Which will be fun for me because I like seeing that little guy.

Aunt Jennie leaves tomorrow, and I don't have to work, so I can spend the whole afternoon cleaning! Yay! We have had such a great time with her though, and we'll elaborate more on her week with us some other time. G'night.