So yeah. Mad. I got mad at three things.
1. Mad at myself.
I know that every body and every pregnancy is different. I know plenty of fit, healthy women who were diagnosed with GD because that's just what happened. But I also knew it was HIGHLY likely that my I CAN EAT EVERYTHING I WANT BECAUSE I'M PREGNANT attitude and menu planning was my problem. Cake really isn't a food group.
When I started to think about it, all of the "it's worse the second time" hormonal things I was talking about earlier? ALL of them can be attributed to too much sugar. Weird mood and body fluctuations? Crazy energy surges and crashes? Wacked-out sleep and dream patterns, beyond "normal" pregnancy wacked-out-ed-ness? Sugar, sugar, sugar.
2. Mad at the diagnosis.
As I have repeatedly stated, I am not a medical professional AND every body is different. But precisely because every body is different, I think that calling it "gestational diabetes" is alarmist and terrifying and not quite true across the board.
Some people can't attribute GD to diet alone or at all. Some women -- say, those with a genetic predisposition to diabetes -- can change their diet and exercise routine completely and still need medication.
However. If I have no history of this, no predisposition to it in any way, AND my blood sugar levels go back to "normal" two days after I stop shoveling high-fructose corn syrup into my mouth, then I feel like my "case" of this "condition" is maybe not as dire as one would think given what it's called. You know?
3. Mad at the treatment.
OMFG. The moment the nurse told me I would be contacted by a "center" who "does counseling" for "diabetics" I knew I was in for it. There is a state-run program (UGH!) and I would be enrolled and, the nurse said, they will help me understand how to monitor my blood sugar (great!) and -- the words I never, ever, ever want to hear ever --
adjust my diet
to keep my blood sugar in check.
Can you hear me rolling my eyes?
Yes, of course I'd GO to the session. I'm not totally negligent and irresponsible.
I am, however, a nutritionist's worst nightmare. I am smart and well educated and extremely knowledgeable about food, diet, and nutrition. KNOWING what I should do has never been my problem. DOING it? Well, right.
I tried to put on my best face, my best sense of humor, my best attitude and attend my one-on-one session as bravely as possible. I decided before I arrived that I would just be honest with my counselor. I would tell her that I understand my diagnosis, I am certain I know how it happened AND I am certain I can get it and keep it under control. I would not be rude or snarky or sarcastic, I would be open and tell her that I'm feeling stupid and silly. I hoped for the best.
The best did not happen.