We went to the doctor today to find out that all is well with the baby girl. I don't know exactly what I was expecting. I think something along the lines of this...
When we arrive at the office, they slap a giant sticker on my forehead that says "THIS LADY HAS GESTATIONAL DIABETES!! MAKE WAY!!" Then they weigh me and all the nurses murmur to each other about how fat and unhealthy I am. They ask me about my blood sugar numbers and I show them my records, then they all gasp in horror and run off to find the nearest doctor with an insulin needle. No one will let me even look at the midwife, because clearly I'm in need of a much more serious doctor, and you know what, while they're at it, they're just going to cut me open right there in the office and take this poor, forsaken baby OUT...just to be safe.
So, that's NOT what happened at all! It turns out I've only gained one pound in the last three weeks (gee, I wonder why), but my belly has grown exactly the number of inches it's supposed to have grown, which means the baby is exactly the size she's supposed to be. When I told them about the three times my blood sugar was high, they almost laughed at me. Apparently I consider high to be, oh...I don't know...ANY points above where they told me to be (i.e. 121 is too high if you're supposed to be at 120)! Turns out, this is not the case, especially since I was able to tell them exactly why it was high. I was very apologetic and I promised I would try to figure out what I'm really supposed to be eating (I discovered that an apple for lunch makes my numbers higher than strawberries - now I know!) and the nurse said, "Honey, by the time you figure it out you'll have already delivered that baby. Don't worry."
Phew! So it looks like I won't have to go on insulin (thank GOD) and I won't have to see the doctor every week quite yet. I'm still good with my bi-weekly appointments for a while. All is well in the world of diet and finger stabbing. I might even have a small bite of cake at my shower this weekend...who knows?!