This was a busy week.  Thanksgiving provided a welcome comma at the end of this week’s sentence, but the first half of the sentence was a bit brutal.

On Wednesday, I embarked on the pregnancy rite of passage known as the diabetes test.  To do said test, I had to drink 50 grams of glucose (disguised as disgusting orange drink that tasted like the awful spawn of Tang and orange soda) on an empty stomach and then have my blood drawn exactly one hour later.

The glucose drink gave me a fantastic headache and, combined with my empty stomach, made me feel floaty and strange.  Wes drove me to my appointment because I was in no shape to drive myself.

My midwife’s assistant drew my blood, which didn’t hurt but which did leave fantastic bruises in the crook of my elbow, and then I was onto the next part of my test.  The RhoGam shot.

For those not acquainted with the RhoGam shot, it’s something you have to get if you have a negative blood type.  If you’re lucky, your husband also has a negative blood type and so no shot for you.

If you, like me, have a husband with a positive blood type (Wes donated blood just so he could find out his blood type.  SUCH A GOOD MAN!) you get to have the shot so that your body’s immune system doesn’t wind up attacking your baby who could inherit your husband’s blood type.

This shot?  Is a butt shot.  Oh yes, the pull-your-pants-down-and-don’t-clench kind of shot.  I know some people have the misfortune of enduring these kinds of shots on a regular basis so I won’t complain too much, but I will say that I don’t envy those people.  At all.

I get to have another of these shots a few days after Squishy is born.  Oh rapture!

I’ll probably get the results of my diabetes test on Monday.  I would be supremely shocked if I had the ‘betes because, barring a six week period wherein I succumbed to my baser sugary desires, I have eaten exceedingly healthy my whole pregnancy.

Pre-pregnancy, I never drank soda or lattes and I avoided high fructose corn syrup as much as possible.  During the pregnancy, I eat mostly fruits and veggies, don’t drink more than one small glass of juice a day, and exercise a moderate amount.

All said?  If I get the ‘betes I’m going to be really mad at all those doughnuts I could have been eating.

As for Squishy and I?  We’re both doing well.  He kicked me so hard it woke me up this week, which was special.  I was lying with my knees pulled up to my belly and he kicked me so hard it felt like a poke on my leg.  It was bizarre.

I planned out a week of lean meats and veggies and low carbs prior to the diabetes test, so for Thanksgiving I gave myself liberty to stuff my face.  It was glorious.  The nice thing is, the scale revealed I’ve gained a modest nine or so pounds so far, which really isn’t bad considering Squishy is well over two pounds by now.

I’ll keep y’all posted on whether or not I have to have a serious discussion with my pancreas on what exactly it means to do one’s job.