I went in for my glucose test today.
First of all, it's cruel not to let a pregnant woman eat first thing in the morning. Not that I'm always hungry right away, but I do get the jitters if I don't eat within an hour of getting out of bed.
Second of all, it should be illegal not to let a pregnant woman drink anything (not even water!) for 12 hours. (Seriously, though; who doesn't drink at least something before the test? I always do.)
Thirdly, why is the testing lab never open on a Saturday? That would be convenient, you know, while our hubbies are most likely home to watch the kids. Instead, they make us drag our kids with us to the lab, where they (the kids) proceed to whine because they can't have any of the sugary drink. Then, we either have to stick around for an hour (whatever!), or drag our kids around town, praying we make it back in time to have a needle shoved in our arm (for at least the third time this pregnancy) while our children watch horrified and fascinated.
Not that this is how my morning went. Oh, no. Cinderella didn't actually whine about not getting to taste the drink (which I don't think is that bad, honestly; at least the orange one; I've never bothered to taste the others). She was more into looking longingly at my "orange soda" and wondering why she couldn't have any.
We then somehow managed to get the grocery shopping done and back to the lab in under an hour.
Fortunately, it's all over. Unless it's like last time. Last time I had to go into the hospital and do the three-hour glucose test. Talk about misery! An extra two hours without eating. And honestly, how many times can you go out and run errands in a small town? At least I didn't have a child with my that time.
Now, my stomach is happily digesting my lunch. And I need a nap.