I spent the first 3 months of my pregnancy on antibiotics. I had kidney infections, chest infections, swollen glands, infection, infection, infection! It was one after another. I would finish one course and a week later I was back on another. It was at a clinic appointment that the reason for these was noticed. My glucose levels were on the high side. I was sent for a glucose test 2 months earlier than normal and I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes.
I wasn’t really sure what this meant and all I was really sure of was that I now had another set of clinic appointment to add to my collection.
At my first diabetic clinic I discovered that my body wasn’t coping with the sugar that was in my food. I had to be extra careful with my diet, no sweets, fizzy drinks, no chocolate, no take aways. I had to cut down on milk and fruit and limit intake of carbohydrates. Food like milk, fruit and cereals that I had thought were healthy were now my enemy. I had a whole new diet. I also had to test my blood 6 times a day, before every meal and 2 hours after. I had medication to take and had to stay active.
This was a nightmare for me. I had been getting cravings for fruit which I considered a healthy craving. And now I couldn’t have it. I had to carefully plan and balance each meal. All my portions were measure correctly and sauces had to be made from scratch. I was tired and sore from the changes happening to my body and I had to force myself to stay active. I became afraid to sit down, I was constantly moving. When I went to clinic, I was tested weighed and my sugar book was examined. I was chastised if I hadn’t lost weight and when I handed over my book, I felt like I was handed over homework for grading.
Other pregnant women I knew were having a ball, taking it easy and eating whatever they wanted. I was on a diet, struggling to lose weight, and feeling guilty for sitting down. I was constantly told that I was going to have a huge baby, I wouldn’t carry to term and I would more than likely have a C Section. I still got infections and the antibiotics made it harder to control my sugars and if I was really sick I spent a lot of time in bed which made matters worse.
There were times I cried about not being able to have what I want and it was always something like wanting an apple or a handful of strawberries. It seems stupid now but at the time it was a major disaster. I threw tantrums, I screamed, I shut people out and I took most of my anger out on my family and husband. If I sat down to watch tv or read, I felt like I was harming my child.
I knew pregnancy was going to be hard but I wasn’t expecting it to be this hard. It was difficult, it was a struggle and I survived. Despite acting like a spoilt child at times, I did what I had to with the support of my family. It wasn’t just about me anymore, I had to do what I could for my baby.
I was constantly told I would be lucky to get to 36 weeks, I made it to exactly 40 weeks. I was told I would have a C Section, I didn’t. I was told my baby would be huge, she wasn’t even 6lbs. She was tiny but she was healthy.