Written by: Robert
My pregnant paleo-wife ran into the bathroom crying. The phone call from the doctor’s office informed her she failed the glucose-tolerance test, looks like gestational diabetes. Second test will confirm this. If she can’t control her blood sugar through dietary changes or insulin injections, baby will be so big she will need a C-Section. Scarring. Subsequent pregnancies all requiring C-Sections. More scarring. On the bright side, they said there’s a chance her gestational diabetes might not turn into type-II diabetes after she gives birth. . .
I’m thinking of a 6-letter word that starts with ‘S’ and ends with ‘D’. I grab a dictionary. Second definition: ‘Tending to make poor decisions or careless mistakes’. I opt for uninformed (‘Not having, showing, or making use of information’) instead, and dial the doctor’s office. I explain what my wife eats, how there must be a mistake. “If she eats that well and still failed, then she probably has Type I diabetes that was undiagnosed before her pregnancy. We are learning how Type I can develop later in life now.” You have got to be S—–uninformed.
I guess we should have seen this coming. After all, she only gets two hours of brisk walking in daily, could only do 100 full sit-ups and 30 pushups before her belly got too big. At a height of 5 feet, 126 pounds (26 weeks pregnant), the thinspo body-mass index rates her as grossly obese. And did I mention she was living on an organic farm when we met, eating vegetables straight from the field? That couldn’t have been good for her. All that sunshine and fresh air, yikes. Do we really know the side-effects of an over-dose of health? Maybe the fact she doesn’t have a cavity in her mouth should have tipped me off something just isn’t right here. Is that even normal? We can’t rule out the possibility that running marathons as a teenager couldn’t have helped. Why didn’t her parents encourage more resting in front of the television. We can only wonder. We will ask her parent’s when we see them for her twenty-second birthday.
I need answers. Searching the net I find other paleo-mom’s failed the glucose-tolerance test. And failed the second, longer, glucose-tolerance test. At least now my wife doesn’t think her body is defective or that she wasn’t a good mom. Maybe we can avoid that C-Section, just maybe. Then I hit gold: Robb Wolf’s article. Answers. I’m singing “H-B-A-1-C, that’s-the-test-for-me” as I pick up the phone and dial the doctor. They are not pleased. Definition of White Coat: “No questions. Just obey.” I’m getting a lecture: “Why isn’t she eating bread? Is this by choice? Wheat is natural.” My mouth hops ahead of my brain: “So if she’s walking through a wheat field she can pick it and eat it?” They are not pleased. I take a big breath and adopt a more servile tone: “Um, please would it be okay if we tested her glucose at home for several weeks? She just isn’t used to all that sugar at once. We are just so concerned, we want to make sure we see how bad it is. We really appreciate your concern. We know this is serious.” They agree to a fasting glucose test.
Test time. Drew two-vials. What was that about, I wonder. Takes all day to get the results. Waiting and praying. Then, the call. That second vial was the HbA1c test. I’m watching her face as she gets the news. . .
My pregnant-paleo wife is bouncing up and down laughing. She passed both tests with flying colors. God Bless you Robb Wolf.