My Incarceration: Day 7

This is a picture of the meal I earned after enduring the 3-hour glucose test this morning. I failed the 1-hour test last week. 😩  I blame it on the giant bag of Reese's that husband lovingly gave me. I have no self-control, especially when I'm stuck in a hospital.

Get in my belly!

They make you fast for the 3 hour test. Remember how you're not supposed to fast when you're pregnant? And then while you're not eating, you have to drink this nasty stuff that's basically one thousand percent sugar. Gross. I'm not sure how this test is legal, but whatever.

I figured a perk of living in the hospital would mean that I could start the test at 6am to minimize my fasting time. The doc okayed it. My nurse was on board. Too bad the phlebotomists who administer the test refuse to start until 7. Too bad I didn't know that until AFTER I woke myself up at 6. So I had to wait until after 10 this morning to eat anything. TEN!! (insert dramatic gasp here). Remember how I'm pregnant? When I told husband I wasn't going to be able to eat til 10 he responded with, "Whoa! You're going to be so grouchy!" (Bless him.)

So help me if I don't pass. How is a woman in the family way supposed to survive 5ish weeks in the hospital without chocolate?! I'm so nervous that I grabbed a pie as part of my breakfast, just in case the news is bad.

And if you were wondering if our life has settled down yet, it hasn't. Husband got in a fender bender on his way to work yesterday. 🚗  Thankfully he was driving his old ghetto car, but still. We have so many trials! 😉

To end on a happy note, I live for visits from my Owen. He's already learning the finer points of how to have fun in a hospital.