Good News/Bad News

Well. Good news? Went to the doc today and talked to her about being thirsty all the time. She agreed with me that drinking 1.5 gallons of water a day is uh, excessive. I was doing that out of thirst, but also out of fear of a repeat firedrill to L&D. So. Less water, yessssss. This also means less bathroom time. And possibly less anxiety over getting dehydrated.

Bad news? Excessive thirst is a sign of gestational diabetes, and given the ahem, issue the other night, she said let's go ahead and assume I have it, and to just start on the diet. Sigh. I don't have to take my blood sugar 4x a day but only once a week as long as I don't deviate from the diet. Double sigh.

I came outta there and was all LET'S WHOLE 30 THIS SHIZ! LET'S DO THIS! I go immediately to the restriction phase and start bulleting it out in my head: ok, no sugar, corn, processed food, dairy, etc. But after sitting with it for a few hours, I'm just meh. I know what and how to eat optimally to feel my best. I know what my trigger foods are. I know when I'm making excuses and how to assess what I really need: a hug? A talk down from the ledge (like multiple times a day at this point)? I know how to do this. I don't need a "program" or guide or whatever. I know what to do and putting an end date on something and saying I CAN'T for 30 days has lately made me nuts; I'd rather just focus on one meal at a time.

We're having a chocolate tasting party this weekend (checking off our bucket list!) for some Scandinavian friends, and I was already agonizing over the menu, then double agonizing after Friday's blood sugar reading. As a recovering people-pleaser/martyr I'd ordinarily be all HERE HAVE ALL THE THINGS I WISH I COULD I'LL JUST HAVE CELERY. And then exponentially intensify that by eleventy million, as if people would shudder in horror if they didn't have a fig jam grilled cheese. But now I'll eat beforehand and incorporate things that I can have, like a giant salad, olives and nuts, and work around it. Enjoy our guests. Soak in the love and be present.

It's just 37 days left until Mr. Man arrives, so I can certainly buckle down for that long. I've done it before, this will put me feeling great and like a lean, mean machine who happens to have a basketball under her shirt at delivery time.

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