Glucola Crap-ola

Yesterday we had a doctor's appointment and everything is going well. The doctor said I am measuring exactly average, and the reason some people show more than others is based on how your spine is inside you. I am carrying completely out in front because my spine is taking up all the room or something. The Insider Resider is on track to be born at 7 1/2 pounds. I remembered to ask about the fibroid, and the doctor said since it wasn't growing, he wasn't going to look at it again for four more weeks. The ultrasound tech when we had it checked had told me it was growing. Whaaa? Everything about this fibroid is confusing. First it was on my ovary. Now it's not, it's on my uterus. Then it had grown, according to one person, and now had not grown, according to another. I wash my hands of this pesky fibroid.

When we got there for the appointment they asked me if I had drunk the Glucola drink I was supposed to drink an hour before so I could be tested for gestational diabetes. Uh, no. I had not. It wasn't even like I had come close to remembering. It wasn't even like I even thought about it once since the last appointment. Whoopsie. I will blame it on Pregnancy Brain, which is currently quite low-functioning. I had to go back this morning to do it instead. Forty-four thousand people warned me that the drink was gross. And when I worked in the maternity home in LA, I took about a billion girls to go get this test for themselves. I always thought it couldn't be that bad. It's supposed to be very sweet and I'm not so picky. With the first sip I thought, Hey, yum! By the 22nd sip I was chugging and gagging, just trying to get it over with. It was awful. They tell you to make sure you take it in a ten-minute time frame. I thought that was crazy, and it would probably take me less than a minute based on the size of the bottle. Ten hard-working, hard-glugging minutes later, I barely made it.

My experience with the test was quite different from that of the teenagers I used to take to get it done. They had to fast from midnight the night before, until after the test was over. Sometimes we could get their appointments early in the morning. Sometimes we couldn't. They had their blood drawn when we arrived, and they weren't allowed (trusted) to take the drink on their own, so the drink was given to them when we got there. Then we had to wait in the waiting room for an hour and their blood was drawn again. The whole ordeal was a big one for them. They were always starving, and often miserable. I never knew anything different from that before today. I was in and out in less than five minutes, and remembered to be grateful that I didn't have to fast, get stabbed twice, or wait there for an hour. Free clinics in comparison, as it turns out, kind of suck.

I've had two new fabulous Craigslist finds. For the baby's room I got this matching set of pink toile valances, a toy bag, a diaper stacker, a crib bumper, crib skirt, and crib sheet all for $15. (I'll only use the valances and diaper stacker probably.) But pink toile! My dream!





And a black vintage-looking Pottery Barn telephone I've been desiring mightily for a few years, which sells on their website for $60 plus shipping, for $25! Mini miracles. For which I am grateful!