I had gotten the paperwork for the one-hour glucose test from my gynecologist almost a month ago and hadn’t gone to get it done. After speaking to my best friend and my sister about the test and hearing their horror stories, I was reluctant to rush in and get it done, plus, at this point in my pregnancy, I am getting a little tired of being poked and prodded.
However, after meeting my OBGYN last month and getting the same paperwork for the same test, I knew it was time to buck up and go and get it done.
I went early, not sure how long getting seen would take and I find that most doctor’s appointments tend to be at least an hour and a half longer than you anticipated because of wait times, tests and what have you.
As soon as I got there, they gave me this small water bottle filled with orange liquid. It had a white label, black writing on it and a lot of information I didn’t quite understand on it. The nurse told me I had to drink the bottle in five minutes and then go up and speak to her so she could log the time I finished and begin timing.
Sitting in my seat, I tried not to make eye-contact with the woman sitting across from me who was staring at me without blinking. Unscrewing the lid from the bottle, I decided I was just going to down it without thinking about it.
The first sip seemed okay, until I swallowed and the aftertaste took over. It was thicker than it should have been in my throat, and tasted like orange syrup.
I drank it as quickly as I could and went back up to tell her I was finished.
Then, as I sat back down and pulled out my Stephen King novel to pass the time, I could feel my baby kicking around, tossing and turning. It seemed my little Kiwi felt the same way about this unbearable sweet drink, as I did. I read three pages before I had to scramble off my seat and run into the bathroom.
Baby did not want any of that, and neither did I, apparently.
I threw up and felt a thousand times better.
As I left the bathroom, the nurse looked at me as raised a brow. “Did you just throw up?” She glanced at her watch, noting the time.
I admitted I did, of course and was told I would need to drink another bottle!
I had never felt more like a child on the verge of throwing a tantrum than when she handed me another bottle. There was nothing I wanted more than to be done with this, and I most certainly didn’t want to have to drink more of that nasty stuff.
Don’t worry, I kept it down. Sat through the hour and went through yet another blood draw. After seeing the table full of vials they had taken, I couldn’t help but frown. How much blood did they need from me during this pregnancy? I think they had already taken more blood in six months of pregnancy than they had through the whole of my twenty-seven years.
The test is tedious, and the drink it less than appetizing, but this test will determine whether you have gestational diabetes.
Keep your fingers crossed for me, because if the test determines I am at risk, I will have to do the three-hour glucose test. *insert dramatic crying face here*
Like most tests during pregnancy, it was uncomfortable. I just keep reminding myself that it will all be worth it in September, when I meet my bundle of joy!!
Will my baby just get here already?!