Aimlessly Adrift Upon the River "Denial"

So...there I was, at my first pre-natal appointment with my first child.  September, 1999.  I hadn't weighed myself in, maybe, years?  I don't even know.  Anytime I ever had a doctor's appointment, I had always requested not to be weighed, and they always complied, reluctantly.  In this case, however, it is imperative to get weighed for the health of your unborn child.  Grudgingly, I stepped on the scale, but asked the nurse to please not tell me the number.  She didn't, I breathed a sigh of relief, and the appointment went on.  But, at the end of the appointment, another nurse came in to draw some blood for a test.  "Let's see,"she said, "your weight today is 339..." I didn't hear anything after that.  I was in utter shock.  339?  Are you kidding me?  I went home, and never said a word to anyone.  I was embarrassed, ashamed, disgusted.

As the pregnancy went on, my weight fluctuated up and down.  I was really, really trying to eat healthier and really, really trying to walk during lunch breaks, but, I inevitably fell back to my eating-disorder.  Granola bars were my drug of choice, for some reason.  Boxes of them.  Every single day.  The drawers at my desk at work were filled with pop-tarts.  I was completely out of control, and told no one about my secret hoarding.  In spite of that, though, the pregnancy was going relatively smoothly.  No morning-sickness, I had lots of energy. Some bleeding, but that quickly stopped.  All was good, all was fine.

Until Week 16.

This is when every pregnant woman starts to get tested for Gestational Diabetes.  Actually, anywhere between week 16 through week 28.  GD is common, and cannot be completely avoided.  The placenta is one of the culprits.  It affects how your sugars are metabolized.  Of course, being overweight, having Type-2 in the family, being over 25 years old, those are risk factors, as well.  I had every single one of those risk factors.  I knew deep down GD could show up.  My doctor kept warning me that it was a strong possibility, but, I didn't listen.  DENIAL.  Sure enough, my blood sugar was through the roof, and I was immediately put on insulin.  I had to shoot insulin in my thigh 6 times a day, checked my blood sugar 4 times a day, and put on a special diet, kind of along the lines of the Atkins Diet.  It was brutal, painful, and I was always hungry.   I kept my eye on the prize, however, making sure my baby did not weigh over 8 pounds, and trying to avoid a C-Section and hypertension.  I delivered my daughter at 7 pounds 13 ounces, and when I delivered the placenta, the diabetes magically went away.  Yay!  No more diabetes!  I can go eat cake again! DENIAL.

Second pregnancy, July, 2001.  I had a different doctor, but she still gave me the same warning.  "You are more than likely going to get GD again, because you had it the first time.  Try to get your diet under control, try to walk every day."   I did try to eat less carbohydrates.  I really did.  I was more active naturally because I was chasing a toddler around and taking her for walks in the stroller, etc.  I really was.  I was nursing, which burned calories.  My weight was down some...around the high 200's.

And then, the dreaded 16-week checkup came.

The test came back negative for GD.  WOOHOO!!!!! I don't have it!  DENIAL.  The eating disorder came back in full-force, and I started eating everything in sight.  I mean, EVERYTHING.  No food was safe from my grasp.  I was not working anymore, so I wasn't hoarding food, but, I still would go to stores and buy sweets and baked goods.  I would quickly eat the food and throw the wrappers away, for fear of getting caught buying crap I didn't need, and wasting money along the way.  This behavior kept going.  I didn't realize, however, that I'd have to get retested for GD at 28 weeks. 

OOPS.

My blood sugar, again, was through the roof, even worse than before.  So, I began the whole regimen again of shooting Insulin in my thigh 6 times a day, checking my blood sugar 6 times a day now instead of 4, and adhering to an even stricter diet.  More like a Keto Diet this time.  It was more brutal, more painful, and I was always hungry.  "This time," the doctor warned, "it's going to be a lot more difficult to keep the baby under 8 pounds, and there is more of a chance that even when the placenta is delivered, I could still have diabetes."  Again, I kept my eye on the prize, delivered my baby at the exact same weight as my firstborn, 7 pounds 13 ounces, the placenta was delivered, and the diabetes magically went away.  Yay!  No more diabetes!  I can go eat cake again!  This time, I specifically requested chocolate cake.  DENIAL.

Except, this time, there was a cost.  At my 6-week post-partum check up, the doctor said something that was haunting and scary.   She recommended that I not have a third child.  If I were to have a third pregnancy the chances were very high that my diabetes would remain post-delivery, and the baby could have a greater chance of being too large, diabetic, or have any number of diseases.  So, realizing this was the end of my child-bearing years, I drove home and cried the whole way.  I had really wanted a third child, but my hopes were dashed.  And it was all my fault. 

"I told you so."

Yet, the years went on, and my children were healthy, thank God.  Here and there I would start to eat right, exercise to Leslie Sansone's at home walking programs, lose some weight.  270's, 280's, 250's.  Eventually, though, the eating disorder would creep back in, and I would gain it all back.  A vicious circle.  Therapy, and Depression and Anxiety medications were added to the mix, which helped my eating disorder somewhat, but not completely.  Along the way, doctors would frequently and gently remind me about the chances about getting Type-2.  I always knew, deep down inside that the possibility was there, but, drifting on the River Denial was the only way I knew how to live.

Until 2017...

7/13/17-my new "Denial glasses" 

I started to have blurred vision in my left eye.  "Oh, I'm just getting older, I just need a new prescription for glasses, that's all!"

DENIAL.

I started having horrible, unrelenting thirst and dry mouth. "Oh, it's just because I'm in the process of moving to our new condo, and it's hot out, and I'm really busy!"

DENIAL.

I lost feeling in my toes.  "Oh, I think I need to get new sneakers.  Must be pinching my toes."

DENIAL.

I started to experience constant incontinence. “Oh, well, I’m getting old! I guess I need Depends now! Haha!”

DENIAL.

Which leads to 4/4/18.  Where I could not deny my unwell feelings any longer.  Where I alighted from the boat I was drifting on for so long, and fell to my knees on solid ground.  My journey of denial ended here, and my journey of recovery began here.

Which is where I will end this post for today.  Boy, this post took even longer than the last one!  I'm exhausted!  Now, I gotta go workout!

Until next week, stay well and safe.

Be a butterfly...🦋