gestational diabetes | And 2 Makes Crazy

You know, I am highly emotional right now.

I am crying at the drop of a hat. Literally. Don’t drop your hat. I’ll cry.

And then, on Sunday, they spoke about our ministry that started in Poland when my husband served 3 cups of hot tea to a few homeless men that were at the train station in Poznan. Today, those 3 cups of tea have evolved to nearly 100 tons of food being distributed in the same city each year through our ministry. But I won’t get started on that because then you’ll have me talking all day.

Well, needless to say, I bawled my head off in church when they spoke of our foundation. But they didn’t stop there. They ended the service showing the story of a little boy, around the age of 12, looking for a forever family to take him in as their own. He just wants a nice dad that will take him to the library. A nice mom that will make him cookies. Two nice sisters and one nice brother.

Let’s just say, swollen eyes, snotty nose—and, yes, I was in public.

Oh, but it’s not just emotional stories. I am tired because I am on the less than 10 weeks countdown to popping out a baby. Woot-woot. So yesterday I looked at my husband, who is actually in America for ONE more week before he heads to Ivory Coast, and say, “I am so tired I could cry.”

He said, “Well, let’s see it.”

And sure enough…tears.

On top of it all, I have gestational diabetes. No, I am not the only preggo, aging woman in the world with this diagnosis. But I just might be the hungriest. So simply thinking about fasting for two hours after eating a meal makes me…You guessed it. Cry.

Woe to all that encounter me at this stage of life 😉

Let’s continue, shall we?! So, my daughter has officially been home for just over a week and I’ve already had to do the threats and the counting and the don’t make me call your dad thing. It seems like a million times and she has literally only been home 9 days. How is that possible? It’s possible, my friends. It’s possible.

So on top of being emotional, tired, and hungry—I am feeling a bit down about being a kick-awesome mom. And then today I watched this…This amazing video where they brought in a bunch of moms. And each mom was brutal about their failures. And then they brought in their kids. And each kid. Well…I don’t want to ruin it for you, so I hope you’ll take a moment and see this video (And, yes, I cried):

http://www.upworthy.com/these-kids-finally-say-what-they-really-think-about-mom-and-her-reaction-priceless-9

This beautiful video made me pause and think.

You know…I fail.

I get tired.

I threaten too much sometimes—and unnecessarily at other times, especially because she’s just being a kid.

I am impatient.

I am moody.

But, ultimately, I am mom.

And, yes, my daughter will remember my failures, but, I hope when asked to describe me, she’ll also remember my beauty.

After all, forever her mother I’ll be.

And the answer is yes!

You know…When you are pregnant at “MY” age, as the doctor continues to delicately (haha!) tell me…many emotions run through your mind.

First: Tears.

Finally! Someone understands how HARD this is on my body. (Um…he’s a male doctor. Does he REALLY?!)

Second: Who is he calling OLD?! Geriatric (a medical term used to describe women MY age pregnant)?! Mature (has he not seen me fight with my child—sometimes I am the 7-year-old)?!

Third: He states, “Your body will not handle this pregnancy the same way it did when you were 25.”

“Um, Doctor, thanks for the reminder. But did you know that at 25 I did NOT have any babies…or at 26, 27, 28, 29…30. There you go, Doctor. Now let’s talk!”

“My next one…yes. 36. Still wanna talk?!”

“Yes, I know that I will turn 38 right after this baby. Got it. O-L-D!”

“Stress tests twice a week because of my age? Um…you do realize I popped one out a year ago? That’s only a year younger.”

Can I get a groan from anyone out there in cyberworld. Groan? Anyone?! Okay. I’ll provide my own, “Groan!”

Fourth: Yes. I know Hollywood is having babies in their 40s. I also know that they live in mansions, have personal chefs, trainers, and, even if they won’t admit it, likely night nannies…and DAY nannies. Should I move to Hollywood? Hmmm. Probably not. I’d have to TAKE the job as the night or day nanny! And, I am pretty sure I work just as hard as they do—whether it’s the days that I am staying home or the days when I am out working. And, yes. I consider making macaroni and cheese hard work. And showering! Yep. Big success. And changing my little man’s diaper. Yep. I dub myself “Hardest Working Mom of the Year!” If I didn’t give myself that award, I would cry. Literally. You don’t know HOW sensitive I am pregnant at this moment 🙂

Funny side story—my sister-in-law is also pregnant at this “Mature” stage in her life, too. And she said right now she is in a “Mean, yell at you, mood!”

I said, “Don’t you yell at me. I’ll cry!”

Funny how pregnancies are so different, eh?!

Fifth: Even though there are days my son (1-yr-old) is LUCKY to be thrown saltine crackers for lunch while I lay on the couch trying to survive, I still FEEL 18. Weird? Well, okay. Physically I feel 90. But, mentally, I FEEL 18.

Therefore, I am NOT a mature mom. I am a sassy, spicy, 18-year-old, currently trapped in a 90-year-old body.

Makes sense. Right?!

Right!

Sixth: You know you are pregnant at my age when EVERY second of EVERY minute of EVERY day you shout awesome praises to God for the gift of the child kicking and turning and punching inside of your belly. You know—especially if you are my age—as the doctor put it not so mildly yesterday at my appointment, “Pregnancies are not easy to come by at your age.”

No one needs to tell me. We had the social worker ready to fly from Germany to Poland to do our home study when we found out we were 1-month pregnant with Maxwell—after 11 years of marriage.

I know because my husband and I were at the fertility clinic wondering IF babies could still be physically in our future since we had our daughter 5 years earlier and we lost our 2nd baby 5 years later.

I know because my body almost aborted my baby, Maxwell Loren, at 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 weeks. Again at 17 weeks. Again at 23 weeks. Again at 29 weeks. Until we were finally able to hang through 34 weeks—and then there was no stopping any labor. And I especially know—because he, Maxwell, has had to fight hard every day since he was born.

Maxwell Loren 5 minutes after he was born

Yes, doctor. I know pregnancies don’t always come easily to ladies at MY age. If you think I don’t KNOW, you are, as the expression goes, “…barking up the wrong tree!”

I know.

And, now, since I am joyfully and exhausted-ly (see, I just made up a word in my pregnancy—GENIUS!) pregnant…

Let’s get this party started! Celebrate! Take lots of pictures. Ones I can share here—and ones that will never be posted here!

And, while we’re partying, I’ll sit on the couch. Can you bring me something to drink? Yes, food too. Ummm…and a slice of that cake! Good. No. Bigger!

Yes, I know Gestational Diabetes are more common in women the older you are when you are pregnant.

But since my results aren’t in yet—bring me TWO slices of cake! Extra frosting.

Ummm…Has anyone seen my son? What’s that, you haven’t. Hmmm…Has anyone heard him lately? What’s that? You have. Phew. That means he is okay.

Yes, thank you. I am comfortable. Can I put my feet in your lap?

Ah. Sigh. Now—let’s eat!