I already believed in myself, but my pregnancy has convinced me more and more that we know our own bodies more than anyone on this planet. More than our spouses, more than our parents, and as I’ve recently learned – more than our doctors. I’ve been fighting what has seemed to be an uphill battle with my doctor over my gestational diabetes test for the past three weeks or so. You know how they say there are some hills you just have to be prepared to die on in battle? This wasn’t originally one of them. But in the end, I just couldn’t help myself. In case you don’t know me, or don’t know me well – you need to know – I can be the most stubborn person on this planet. And this process made me much more stubborn, except now my stubborness has become advocacy on behalf of me and my kiddo.
I went in for my first gestational diabetes test about 3 weeks ago. I had no doubts I would pass. So did my doctor. I went in after lunch, and drank the sugary sweet crap that tasted like tang. I had 5 minutes to finish it. The bottom forth of it was totally frozen, so I spent the majority of that time in the room, waiting for the doctor and shaking my juice bottle. My doctor came in, was very sweet and was making small talk. She looked at my bottle and told me I had pretty much had enough of it and proceeded to throw the rest of it away. She assured me I had nothing to worry about! The rest of my appointment went off without a hitch. I went down to the lab and read my book for an hour while I let my sugar metabolize and do it’s thing. After an hour, I had my blood drawn…out of my wrist because they can never find a vein thats good enough in my arm. After that, I went on my merry little way.
Later that day – my results were emailed to me. I was never really the mathematician and so when I had a result of 130 and I saw that the normal range was <130, I thought I was fine! I got a letter in the mail a week later that told me otherwise. Apparently, I was not so fine…I needed to sit for the three hour glucose test. I was so frustrated! I just KNEW that I didn’t have diabetes! I emailed my doctor right away and after like 6 email exchanges, she was just unwilling to work with me. It was about this time that the stubbornness I spoke of earlier kicked into high gear. I just did not want to sit for this three hour test. I didn’t want to fast. I didn’t want to take even MORE sugary drink. And most of all, I didn’t want 4 more needle sticks in my wrist/hand to prove to someone that I knew myself and my baby better than they did.
I had been looking for an excuse to switch to seeing a midwife anyway and so I decided this was as good of time as any. After talking with my labor person (who was rightly pissed on my behalf, because my hospital makes their tests so low almost no one can pass any more. PS – other hospitals initial reading needs to be above 140 or 145 to be considered at risk, not the 130 that I was) I decided to go to a midwife to get a second opinion. Seth and I sat with her for 30 minutes and just talked over my results, and for the first time, I felt like someone really HEARD me. She listen to us, and essentially said that she was going to mull it over, but her recommendation was to start going to the nutritional classes and monitoring my blood on my own. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but I at least felt understood for the first time.
You’re not going to believe what happened next….the next day – the midwife CALLED ME. Yes…she took a personal interest in my case, and actually called me! She started our conversation with, “Remember how I said you were going to keep me up all night? Well you did”. She proceeded to tell me she went to the nutritionist on my behalf and they sat and dialogued about my specific case for quite sometime. At the end of it, they both felt like the 3 hour test was the best compromise. Now – I know that my doctor said that from the beginning. However, I never really felt like she heard me. I felt like I was just another patient, just another pregnant woman. But my midwife – she listened. She thought. She mulled. She called.
So that’s what I did. I decided this time I was passing for CERTAIN. So I gave up all sugary sweets and most carbs the week whole week before. I fasted the night before as instructed. I went in to the lab ready to conquer the 4 needle pricks that stood between me and the afternoon. They took the first draw (and the next THREE) from a vein in my hand. Then they made me drink an even higher concentrate of sugary crap within the 5 minutes. As I was drinking, the lab tech reminded me that if I barfed, the test was invalid. I thought to myself – “oh no lady…you don’t know what I’ve been through to get here. This stuff isn’t coming back up.” So I continued to drink. I drank to victory. I drank to being heard. I drank the most sugary crap I’ve ever had in honor of being declared not gestationally diabetic. So after I drank…I walked. I did two laps around the whole building. And then I read. and I followed that pattern for 4 hours. I had my blood drawn, and then I walked.
I waited for those results in earnest…all day. At around 3pm – here’s what I saw come through my email:
I have never been more thrilled in my LIFE! I PASSED!!!! I am not gestationally diabetic! I knew I was ready to die on this hill, but instead, I got a sweet, albiet sickeningly sweet, victory!!
Like I said, throughout this process, I just confirmed for myself that I am the one who knows my body best. Not a doctor who doesn’t see me as more than a patient. Not even a willing midwife who embodies patience, but me. And what that means to me is that not only do I know myself – I know this baby. I know this life that is growing inside of me, and I know it well. I know what we need and all that we needed was someone to listen to us. Now if we can just get them to listen to our birth plan! But one thing is for sure – we’ll be fighting the good fight for the remaining 7 weeks if we have to.
Proud of you!