It is no secret that being overweight, obese, fat, chubby, fluffy or whatever you want to call it poses health risks. Because these risks kind of compound over time (ie: you don’t potentially drop dead after eating a donut) they can be rather easy to blow off or push aside. This is especially true when you aren’t visiting the doctor what feels like every 10 minutes so your little can be properly monitored.
I don’t love thinking about the health risks of my weight but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I think being pregnant just brought them into the spotlight more than ever before and gave me a new reason to look at them a little closer. Being a “plus size pregnancy” sucked for a lot of reasons. One of the main reasons was how my body seemed to just break down under the stress of carrying a baby (If you are a plus size mama to be- don’t panic! My amazing doctor got me through this process just fine). One of my main stressors during the pregnancy was dealing with gestational diabetes. If you have never dealt with blood sugar issues, let me assure you it is no picnic. Even being diligent about what I ate, testing my levels several times a day, and taking medication I barely squeaked my numbers into an acceptable range. On the flip side I also almost passed out in Sam’s Club during a paper towel run once when I was around 32 weeks pregnant because my blood sugar had dipped too low. It was a pretty scary thing to deal with and definitely not something I could ever ignore again.
Imagine my surprise when my OB suggested a post pregnancy glucose tolerance test. “But I thought the diabetes went away when he baby was born and things go back to normal” I said stupidly. My doctor gently explained that he was worried my “normal” might actually be that I am diabetic or pre-diabetic and that somehow it had gone undetected or not diagnosed. Apparently that is not terribly uncommon with someone who has my risk factors. Well crap.
So I went in for my first test a few weeks after baby A was born and I tanked it. Somehow this shocked me and I might have even snapped at my favorite doc because I just knew this couldn’t be happening. The doctor said before he could diagnose me I needed to come back in 8 weeks and test again. During those 8 weeks I implemented a better diet, made sure to workout consistently, and worked on getting my weight down.
Last week I went back in for my follow up testing and am happy to report things are improving. My numbers aren’t where they should be and I have a LONG way to go to reach my goals but I am in a better place than where I started.
Until Next Time!