Feeble Knees

Thursday, July 21, 2005

But I'm Much Better Today!

Boy am I glad it's today. Yesterday may have marked a new personal low point for me with this pregnancy.

I thought I was doing a very good job keeping a stiff upper lip and maintaining a positive outlook despite the word that came early yesterday morning that I do in fact have gestational diabetes. "Thank the Lord we found out!" I said. "This is probably a very good thing for both Mr. F and I to find out now, considering our families' history of diabetes." (Both sets of parents were and are diabetic) "This will be a good incentive to watch what I eat now and give me a head start on losing the weight after the baby arrives". I said all these wonderful things, and I meant them too. I calmed the jittery nerves of my parents, I reassured Mr. F that I was okay with the news. I was doing marvelously. I caressed my belly as if to let the little guy know that Mama was going to take care of both of us, and we'd be OK.

Later in the afternoon while changing the cats' water dish, it slipped from my hand and spilled the entire contents all over the kitchen linoleum. Grumbling, I grabbed some paper towels and began to mop up, as one very thirsty and cranky cat stood by squawking. "Meaaaargh!" He protested. He wanted water ASAP. "I'm working on it!" I snapped "Meaaaaaaaaaargh! Meaaaaaargh!" He complained, now pacing about my legs, carefully avoiding the spilt water.

My impatience grew as his squawking continued. Bending down awkwardly, best I could with this belly of mine, I tried to mop up quickly and shifted my weight ever so slightly. Before you could say accident waiting to happen, down I went.

I fell backwards, hard onto my bottom. Instantly upon impact, my bladder burst much like a dropped water balloon.

Then I swore at the cat.

The cat got right up in my face and dished it right back at me. "MeeeeEEEEEEAAARGH!"

Sitting there in a puddle of my own making, I held my breath. Did I hurt the baby? Is he okay? I waited for what seemed like forever to see if he'd move, or kick. I assessed myself - no cramps, no abdominal pain, no backache. A few minutes passed before it began to feel safe to move, but instead of getting up, my eyes welled up with tears. Slumped there in front of the fridge I sniffled a little and felt very, very bad for myself all around.

* * *

With the benefit of a dry pair of britches and the passing of a few hours I managed to regain my composure and some perspective. The only thing hurt in the fall was my ego; the baby has been keeping to his regularly scheduled program of kicks and bumps, and other than some soreness in my left wrist (I jammed it in an unsuccessful attempt to break my fall), I seem to be none the worse for wear. Mr. F later pointed out sympathetically that at least it hadn't happened in public, where the level of embarrassment could have been exponentially higher. As it was at least the cat was the only other living thing present to witness my haplessness, and it seemed he couldn't have cared less. It did seem somewhat like adding insult to injury, to get the bad diabetes news AND have a falling & wet myself moment in the same day. But I suppose if you're going to have a low moment, no sense it dragging it out - get it all over with and that right quickly.

Things are brighter today. I did meet with a nurse to get a diet plan and nutritional information that I am to follow strictly for the remainder of my pregnancy. I also learned how to test myself using a lancet device and blood glucose meter, which was very, very simple and about as pain-free as modern technology can make these things. So I've got everything I need to manage for the next eleven or so weeks.

Thanks be to God for His protection and mercy, for doctors and glucose tests, lancets, meters and insurance coverage, cushy bottoms and (somewhat) soft landings.


Everything's going to be A.O.K.
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