Well, it was nice while it lasted.

For those who follow here, you may have noticed my recent obsession with food. And although I have posted about some not-so-healthy fare, behind the scenes, I truly do my best to eat well, especially throughout this pregnancy.

People often ask me why I do not just eat what I want while pregnant.  I am told to not worry so much about the weight. That it will all come off after the baby.

Unfortunately, those people are not my doctor.

I wish I were one of those pregnant women who could just ‘be pregnant.’

The ones who can eat Ding Dongs and Ho-Ho’s for nine months and still able to keep their weight within healthy limits.

As a non-pregnant woman, I can usually pull that off. However, while pregnant, my body does not comply.

During my last pregnancy, I tried to just enjoy myself and ate as I normally would, plus or minus a few binges when cravings set in.

Unfortunately, by my third trimester, I was a borderline gestational diabetic.

I swear I was not able to eat anything but chicken salad for months.

Not to mention, I still gained well over 40 pounds during that pregnancy.   I was on bed-rest for nearly 4-months, and never wanted to know what my final weight was.

So this time around, I really wanted to eat healthy and maintain reasonable weight gain (especially in case I required bed rest again).  All in hopes of avoiding blood sugar issues again.

So far in this pregnancy (at 30 weeks), I have gained a total of 16 pounds.  If I gain 1-pound per week until the very end, I will fall right into the recommended weight gain range, with ample wiggle room since my BMI was on the lower end pre-pregnancy.

However, all of my efforts may have been in vain.

I failed my glucose screening test last week. Just like I did with Babisodes.

So this past weekend, I returned to the hospital and took a more in-depth glucose test.  I did not have any food or water for 14 hours, and sat in the hospital for four of them, requiring a blood draw every hour.  Did I mention I’m preggers?

Now I look smokin’ hot with these track marks on my arms.  All I need is a brown bag and a 40 oz fin one hand, and a Virgina Slim in the other to complete the picture.

I don’t care. I’ll endure the test again as long as I do not have to go on a strict diabetic diet (usually low-carb).

I could MAYBE handle not eating bread or pasta.

But no rice?

It’s like asking a cow not to graze.

I seriously think I saw a california roll shaped cloud in the sky today…