Loading ...Lean, Mean, Smart Machine
LYNNE
43 Years Old
Gestational Diabetes
Diagnosed 1998
I was 31 years old and I wanted to be pregnant. It was time. I had gone out and bought all the pregnancy books, had the “discussion” with my husband and knew at which hospital I wanted to give birth. Luckily, we conceived right away. I was elated. My husband looked more like a deer caught in headlights. But, it was a dream come true, for both of us.
With my senses on high, my walks to work became more pleasurable each day! I strutted down 5th Avenue, every smell like an electric symphony of harmonious delights. I could smell the cheese melting as I passed Tommy’s Pizza. The roasted chestnuts at the corner vendor made me want to hijack the cart. But passing Payard’s Bakery was almost enough to send me to the mad house, inhaling deeply the chocolate aroma of their mouth-watering soufflé. Aaah, food. I was hungry all the time!
I would shuffle home and my back would hurt. Had I gained too much weight? I was walking everywhere and exercising, I told myself. So, in an attempt to address my new poundage, I read a book by a well-known NYC nurse who explained the importance of exercise and core training during pregnancy. O.k., exercise and core training. I got it. But I continued to eat my bean burritos and frozen yogurt.
By month seven I wasn’t feeling so great. At my doctor check-up I took my mandatory gestational diabetes test. They made me an unappetizing drink concoction that I had to down on an empty stomach. And then, they measured my blood glucose. I left the office and gave it little thought, other than just a fleeting memory of my grandmother who had diabetes.
A couple of days had passed and no doctor call. I shook it off. Then, the phone rang. The doctor blurted something into my ear.
“You have gestational diabetes,” she said.
“What?” I mumbled.
“You have gestational diabetes and we’ll need to give you some information about how to take care of yourself.”
Great. Just what I needed in my seventh month of pregnancy. I would have to test my blood sugar six times a day and stay between 70 – 120. I wouldn’t have to take pills but I would have to change my eating habits and exercise regularly. I didn’t know too much about this disease other than it was an annoying nuisance. I later learned that my diabetes would go away once my baby was born but now I was now at a higher risk of developing type II later in life.
I did what I had to do. It wasn’t just my life at stake. I got my test kit and started testing, all the time. I was amazed at how what I ate affected my blood sugar. I no longer put sugar on my cereal or in my coffee in the morning and I stopped eating bean and rice burritos. Instead, I ate whole-wheat sardine sandwiches. I know, gross, but I was pregnant! In addition, I walked everywhere, every chance I got. Just those small changes not only affected my numbers but also my weight. I was no longer gaining at the same pace. It was amazing. Learning the effects was powerful. What a tool for life.
Our son was born 7 pounds, 13 ounces. He was red, but perfect. All of his vitals were normal.
While getting diabetes during my pregnancy was not something I’d ever wished for, it taught me an important lesson, which I’m still practicing today. I am in charge of my own body and, what I put in it affects it in various ways: some raise your blood sugar, some add weight faster, and some feed your body just right. I keep a food journal because tracking holds me accountable and helps me make good decisions. I don’t diet. Keeping track doesn’t mean I’m denying myself. I’m just now more aware.
I am in the best shape of my life. Not only did I lose the 40 pounds I gained during pregnancy, but also another ten. I am a lean, mean, smart machine!
