It’s been a tough week. This pregnancy thing is getting harder and harder. It all came to a head yesterday when I was told they’re referring me to a diabetes doctor because my levels are too high. On the one hand, I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course I can’t control it with diet and exercise, if I could I wouldn’t have it in the first place because I already had a great diet (minus the chocolate) and exercise regularly. However, logic goes out of the window when you’re pregnant. Instead, I got myself worked up into a state, worrying about you being unwell and pumped full of glucose, worrying about me having to give myself regular shots. Then, it all starts to turn to resentment, not of you, but of the whole pregnancy caper. Like being sick for weeks wasn’t bad enough, but then having to restrict what I eat when food is all I have to get me through this is awful. Add to that being constantly exhausted and hungry and it’s all getting hard. Maybe going on insulin will actually make things a little easier. I doubt it though.
Related: How it all began – peeing on a stick
For all my whinging, when all is said and done I will go out of my way to make sure you’re OK. I will forsake tim tams, I will ignore my doughnut cravings, I will walk for an hour a day, vacuum after eating for the sake of exercise and prick my finger four times a day (sometimes more if I’m not happy with the first reading), because I just want you to be OK. That said, if this diabetes doesn’t go away upon delivery I will remind you of what I sacrificed as often as I can! That’s just the kind of Mum I’m going to be.
I had breakfast with my friend today. She has one child with her second (a little girl) due two weeks before you. We’re a bit excited about getting our two girls together. Anyway, my friend is what I call “a real Mum”. A person who adores her child but doesn’t live through him. A person who remembers what life is like before children. A person who makes time for herself as much as she makes time for her family. She is what I aspire to.
Baby girl, I know I’m not going to be one of those Mums who makes you novelty cakes, spends hours making homemade crafts and throws you parties full of organic cupcakes, handmade gift bags and homemade bunting adorning the walls. I will be the Mum who picks up a cake on her way home from work, buys pre-made gift bags and blows up balloons as the children are arriving. I will be the Mum that feels like I’m not as good as the other Mums, I will be the Mum who still enjoys a glass of wine in the evening, the Mum who buys shop bought treats because it’s easier than making handmade granola bars, but I will love you just as much as any mother loves her child. I will always be there for you, I will always be proud of you, I will support you, nurture you, teach you, make sure you never go hungry, teach you how to read music, teach you how to read, toilet train you, house you, buy you glittery shoes even though I’m opposed to them. I will do everything I can to make you happy and, like my friend, I will do it my way. Because at the end of the day I don’t think being a Mum is a competition, a race, it’s about being the best person you can be for your child. And that’s going to look different to each person. But know this, my little one, I love you. You’re not even here yet and I love you. I love you when I’m crying all day because this pregnancy caper is too hard, I love you when I’m wishing I could have chocolate, I love you when Braxton hicks are making me stop and breathe deeply, I love you when it hurts to get up, I love you when I’m so tired I can barely take it, I love you when I have a sip of your Dad’s beer and wish I could have one for myself. I love you.
Previous: The pregnancy – Week 28