GDM

When people ask me how my pregnancy is going, I tell them it’s been a breeze. It’s true, though. I feel like it’s been relatively easy as I have no discomfort, no complications, no alarming events, etc.

However, if I were to pick something that is the bane of my existence, it’s my sugar levels.

I wrote a song a few months ago called “My Sugar Song” (it’s on my Meta accounts). It describes my experience having to poke my finger 4x/day and about injecting insulin.

I’ve been diagnosed with GDM (Gestational Diabetes Mellitus: meaning I have high sugar in pregnancy) pretty much as early as our first ultrasound at 8 weeks. Usually, GDM is diagnosed at around 30-ish weeks when they make you undergo an OGTT (Oral Glucose Tolerance Test), where they make you drink a sugary drink and test how your sugar is after a period of time. So, usually, when diagnosed at 30-ish weeks, you only have around 7-10 weeks of finger poking and insulin to endure. Meanwhile, I have been doing this for around 24 weeks now, with 8 weeks to go.

I think I’ve gotten used to needles since I’ve been doing this for a while, but it still brings me down when I see my sugar numbers elevated.

My perinatologist has been extremely understanding. She said she doesn’t want me to feel deprived just because I have GDM. She advocates for sugar and calorie restriction but allows me to eat as normally as I possibly could.

In this blog, I don’t want to leave out my part in my sugar intake. I have not been the best at keeping track of my sugar. I love pastries and sugary treats, so I eat them for snacks when I don’t need to check my sugar (so it won’t count).

Coming from an eating disorder in the past, there are certain checks I put up for myself, so I won’t spiral again. Some of them are: accepting my current dress size, eating on time, letting myself eat when I want and what I want, and, clearly, the gist of it is not depriving myself of food. When I see food that I want to eat, my protective instinct is to eat it, obviously. However, being told not to, or at least telling myself not to, even though I really want to, starts a thought process I never want to be in again. I feel self-pity, deprived, and most dangerously, I feel the urge to stop eating altogether.

This deprivation is at war with my maternal instincts. I want to protect my baby and give him a chance at normal growth and development in my womb without having complications at birth.

I could eat the food I’m craving, but when I see my sugar elevated, it turns into regret, disappointment, and shame. I feel like I’m not a good mother because I can’t even control my food intake. I feel like I’m already failing him because I don’t have a strong enough will.

As of this moment, I still haven’t figured out the balance between the two.

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