Celebrating the fact that I don’t have gestational diabetes with a chocolate donut

Come to me my sweet

You learn a lot on the fly as a first-time pregnant person, and run into a few surprises along the way, too.

So far, my favourites (in the form of catchy blog titles) are:

  • So You Sneezed and a Little Bit of Pee Trickled Down Your Leg in Public: Now What?
  • Why Do My Breasts Look Like a County Road Map?

and my personal favourite

  • What Does My Vagina Look Like Again?

Sure, it’s all fun and games and hilarious fantasy blogs until you realize that you also are in for a literal crap ton of tests, including, but not limited to: frequent blood and urine, chromosomal abnormality screening and:

(Gestational diabetes.)

According to The Canadian Diabetes Association, gestational diabetes (GD) occurs when your fat, disgusting pregnant body can’t produce enough insulin to handle the effects of the growing baby and changing hormone levels. If your fat, disgusting pregnant body cannot produce enough insulin, your blood glucose levels will rise, which can be a health risk to both you and your baby.

Having GD typically results in a large baby at birth (think: watermelon passing through keyhole), and a chance that both you and your baby will develop type 2 diabetes (think: Here Comes Honey Boo Boo) in the future. GD can be managed through diet, and mercifully goes away after birth.

Most pregnant women only need to take one GD test between week 26 and 28 of pregnancy, however, if your fat, disgusting pregnant body–like mine, for example–refuses to cooperate and you fail that test, you must take one more, sometimes two.

After a couple days of chomping at the bit and eating a lot of croissants in protest, I’m happy to report that I do not have gestational diabetes. However, I’m fairly borderline, so I guess that means I need to stop eating bags of Sour Patch Kids for dinner.

Look, I didn’t plan any of this: an introduction

Hi, I’m Becca.

You may remember me from that time I got blackout drunk and bitchslapped everyone, and a snarky social media presence which basically centers around one of the following five themes:

1) Pictures of food/my cats in compromising positions
2) Why I don’t believe in God and how religion is destroying the world
3) Being a bleeding heart liberal
4) Drinking, or how drunk I am
5) The fact that I’m never having kids, and how sorry I feel for anyone who does

And then this happened:

Gross, right? I totally peed on that and now I’m posting it online.

Go ahead. Say it.

Total hypocrite. The worst that ever was.

Children were never really part of the plan, but sometimes an entire bottle of wine happens and you either wake up the next morning with a $50 housekeeping surcharge or a surprise pregnancy.

Look, I didn’t plan any of this.

Could it be that life sometimes decides for you?

So is that the comforting narrative we’re going with?

Listen, some people are equipped to handle hardship and tragedy with grace and dignity, and some people are me. Some people can have just one drink and be fine, and others use alcohol as a crutch and render themselves unresponsive in the middle of the Las Vegas strip and need to be carried out of an elevator and put to bed like an invalid.

Dramatization.

Dramatization of my 30th birthday.

Out of necessity rather than choice, that life is no more. I’ve been told I need to write again as I attempt to handle mandatory sobriety parenthood.

But don’t you dare call it a Mommy Blog.