First all, let me state that I love sweets. So much so that I was born on Pi Day (March 14, also know as “today”). When I want to celebrate, I love cakes and pies and brownies and all those other great sugary sweets. When I’m feeling down, nothing makes me feel better than a decadently delicious helping of just desserts. When I go grocery shopping, my hubby can count on at least a dozen donuts being in the bag for breakfast the next morning. Sweets and Meats are tied for by biggest pregnancy cravings. Southern Sweet Tea is by far my favorite drink.
And yet, today, Pi Day, my birthday, is probably the worst day of this entire year.
A few days ago, I failed the one hour blood-glucose test, and had to subjugate myself to the three hour version yesterday morning in my Obstetricians office, and the outlook is dismal. I just may, pending results, have Gestational Diabetes.
No cake. No sweet tea. No partaking of that delicious Caramello bar that my hubby got me for my birthday.
The worst part of this all is that I am banned from the one fail-safe that makes me feel better when the only thing I ask for on my birthday is a clean house… and I end up giving that present to myself. It is also the fail-safe that keeps me sane when birthday plans get canceled last minute due to unforeseen circumstances. Just like a lot of people take their spine for granted until it’s injured, I’ve taken my ability to eat sweets for granted, and it is extremely depressing. Lock-myself-in-my-room-and-cry-for-hours-depressing.
And then my Husband asks “This is just pregnancy hormones, right?”
Featured image was found on minimal exposition, a blog by Bethany Pierce. Please go check her out for more destroyed deserts artwork. 🙂