It's that time again for my sugar testing to begin during this pregnancy. I am 17 glorious weeks and because I was borderline the entire time last pregnancy my midwife suggested that I take the sugar tests sooner. The first one is quick. You drink the flat orange soda stuff and you wait for about an hour. They take a small vial of blood and poof two weeks later the nice nurse calls to tell me that it's necessary to go and spend time with the lovely people at labcorp.
Monday is that day. I put it off until the very last minute but I have my next midwifey appointment on Thursday and thus I had to get it done. Luckily, Eliot will be there with me, waiting patiently to share with me the four hour tour of blood suckage. I drink a very large bottle of the flat orange soda and wait an hour, they take blood. I wait another hour, they take blood. I wait another hour, they take blood. I wait another hour, they take the rest of my blood as the ferocious vampires of the daylight that they are and I wobble out climbing into the car hoping to be infused with food at the very next stop.
Isn't it considered cruel and unusual punishment to keep a pregnant woman without food or drink for a quarter of the waking hours? The thing that gets me is that I am unlikely to pass this test. My people are the poster children for diabetes and the inevitability that my genes will somehow fall out of my body for those 4 hours is also unlikely. It will either determine that I have in fact gone into the dark side or that I am once again on the border. The border determines that I will take a sugar test every single visit of my pregnancy from now until I give birth. It also means I will fast each time. It also means that I will have to miss part of the school day so I can go in the mornings and do these sugar shenanigans.