Diary of a preggo: week 24

Diary of a preggo: week 24

Dear diary,

Hello week 24, hello sugar test! This week was the exciting moment, I could participate in the glucose tolerance test, a.k.a. the sugar test. I was allowed to pick a date between 24 and 26 weeks to test if I have gestational diabetes and in the spirit of 'let's get it over with', I scheduled this right away in the 24th week.

Not everyone has to take part in this test. In my case, it was a case of 'slightly high BMI and a slightly higher genetic risk', which meant I had an increased risk of developing gestational diabetes. In the 24Baby app, all kinds of topics about this test popped up, more people are now in the testing phase.

As you know by now, I have sweet cravings. Sugar has been my bestie since I stopped being so nauseous and I just crave sweets all day long. Sure, I try to restrain myself but this was an exciting moment of truth.

Slightly nervous, I ate and drank until 10 o'clock in the evening so that I could go to the hospital sober the next morning. Beforehand, I had received clear instructions to come alone, which made me even more nervous. With two other women, I ended up in a day room where we had to stay during the examination. Walking around or doing active things was not allowed.

At 9 o'clock, my blood was pricked for the first time with a finger prick. My blood sugar level was fine and I was allowed to take the glucose drink. You hear many exciting stories about the drink, but no worries: it is a bit like taking a sweet cough syrup, nothing disgusting really.

Together with the other women, I sat in the room and chatted a bit about my pregnancy up to now and about any previous deliveries. After 15 minutes I already noticed that staying sober and having a heavy sugar drink was not a good combination. I tried to persevere, 'breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth', but unfortunately that trick didn't work anymore.
I spit out the drink I had drunk 20 minutes before. Nervously, the nurse walked in to ask if I could estimate how much of the drink had been vomited up. After a fair estimate, it was decided that I should stop the test and the examination should be repeated at another time. Lucky me.

You would think that the nausea would then stop, but no; I just felt more miserable. As if it was contagious, the girl next to me also got sick and was told that the examination had to stop for her too. We were given a cheese sandwich and a cup of tea to recover a bit and were allowed to relax. When the nurse came to ask how I was doing, I only wanted one thing: to go home. I stood my ground and said that I was doing better, until my body betrayed me. I started to vomit again and the tears that ran down my cheeks gave away a bit of my miserable feeling.

But finally the moment had come: half an hour later - which felt like an eternity - I was allowed to go home. Still trembling a bit on my legs, I stood at the pay machine to pay for my parking ticket, when suddenly my bank card didn't work. Of course I had forgotten my other card, so I couldn't pay my own ticket. Out of sheer misery, I charged back a random bill - oops, sorry Readly - so that I could finally drive to my parents' house to recover and eat an egg sandwich prepared by my mother. No matter how old you are, and whether you will become a mother or not, at times like these it is wonderful to be looked after by your own mother.

I may repeat the sugar test next week, but then the pleasant version without the vomiting scenes. Keep you posted! ;-)

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