22 weeks: numbers on a scale

I’m not a crier, I hate breaking down into tears, I try to avoid it at all costs. But this morning, when I walked out of the pregnancy in diabetes clinic, that’s exactly what I wanted to do. I felt like a failure, a disappointment, a bad diabetic – a feeling I haven’t felt since my days of chubbiness, inactivity, and out-of-control diabetes.

I walked into this appointment believing I’d get a glowing report. My BG numbers have been great, the lows have dissipated, and my activity levels have majorly elevated (did I mention I’ve done seven hikes in a week and a half and have another one planned for tomorrow?). But, despite the doctor exclaiming I was the first patient she’s ever had where she hasn’t had to implement any insulin pump adjustments, because of my good BG numbers, I was read the riot act by the dietitian regarding my weight gain.

In two weeks I have gained 2.2 kilograms, and apparently I’m just 0.1 to 1.0 kilograms away from the weight gain goal they had set for me early in the pregnancy (which, by the way, they did not inform me of). In total, I’ve gained either 21 or 22 pounds.

                       Me last summer.                                       Me last Friday.

I know a lot of the weight came from the four-and-a-half months of lows causing me to guzzle back gallons of orange juice, but my BG has since balanced out resulting in a major scale back of the orange juice intake in the last month. I don’t indulge in sweets, I was off the chocolate and cookies for months as they made me sick (and I still don’t eat much of them), I rarely have ice cream, and when I do, it’s a piddly half cup serving that I allow myself. I don’t touch donuts, bon bons, potato chips – none of that! I have cravings, for sure I do, but I don’t succumb to them for fear of what they’ll do to my blood sugars, and thus what they’ll do to thumb-sucking alien baby. I eat tons of salads, I love my salads, I eat vegetables, fruits, lean meats. All healthy foods.

Granted, my breakfast, morning and afternoon snack intakes have more protein than pre-pregnancy, because that’s what they told me to do, and my evening snacks are also heavier than pre-pregnancy, again because that’s what they told me to do. I believe I am doing everything right.

And yet, when the dietitian grilled me on my daily food intake, I got the feeling she didn’t believe me – I mean, if I’m such a good diabetic, why the heck else would I be gaining all this weight right? And when she couldn’t crack me, she suggested I opt for low-fat cheese instead of full-fat cheese, and that maybe I omit the quarter chunk of avocado I sometimes put in my lunchtime salads, and also scale back on the margarine I put on my grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. But, I’m sorry, how is low-fat cheese a better option? How is low-fat Laughing Cow, which really isn’t all that different from regular Laughing Cow, a better option? How is taking out good fats like avocado, which I don’t have all the time, a better option. And yes, maybe I could scale back on the margarine, but I’m pretty sure the bit I have once, maybe twice a week, isn’t what’s causing this weight gain. But I’m not a dietitian right… not yet at least!

My moms informed me that the babies in our family are bigguns, and that I’m probably just growing a good, healthy kid; Big Ring reminded me that my breast size has majorly increased (from a 34A to 34D!!!) which could explain some of those numbers on the scale; and one of my most favourite running chicks told me it’s better to feed thumb-sucking alien baby than to starve it … she followed that up with the sound advice that I can’t always be perfect, something I’m finding extremely difficult to come to terms with 😉

ps. On a much happier note, thumb-sucking alien baby has become quite the active kicker!