By Kate Kole
“Unfortunately, you failed the glucose screening. We’ll need you to come in as soon as possible for the 3-hour test.”
So, here I sit, one blood draw down and an orange sugary drink guzzled, waiting for step two. (And also wondering why I couldn’t have just had a couple doughnuts and a glass of chocolate milk, but I digress).
I cried when I hung up the phone. I wasn’t even entirely sure why. Partially because I didn’t want to deal with more needles and fasting, but it was more than that. I felt like I’d done something wrong. Was it the scoop of ice cream I’d had the night before my appointment? Should I have eaten something that morning? Was I eating too much? Too little? The wrong things?
After the tears finished falling and my emotions settled, it dawned on me. “I think it’s my perfectionist tendencies.” I said to my husband. “I hate feeling like I failed and I really hate feeling like I have no control.”
“I could have told you that a few hours ago.” He laughed.
In some ways, it seems like all the tests and results throughout pregnancy are a preview of what’s to come when the baby arrives. The waiting and wondering and wishing of those first 9 months offer a glimpse of the questions and the desire to master motherhood that comes later.
I catch myself in power struggles daily. With an 18-month-old, I might add. Wanting to set and stick to sleep schedules only to wake up at 4:45, placing healthy food on a high chair, watching as it’s tossed onto the floor, and eventually coming to an unspoken agreement that toast with raspberry jam will suffice for dinner, saying it’s nap time and then reading the same book five times through. Going with the flow, not out of desire, but out of necessity. Sensing my stubbornness, pride, and wanting to be right as it butts up against the strong will of a toddler. And in my case today, a glucose test.
I usually like to write post-epiphany. When I can pull up to a keyboard and type out the lessons I’ve learned, the wisdom I’ve gained, the enlightened way I’m moving forward.
Right now, I come empty handed and open hearted enough to admit that I’m still just seeing what it means to surrender. To go ahead without having all the answers and to allow my imperfect parenting skills and blood sugar levels to be good enough as they are. Or as Dem Franchize Boyz famously sang, to “lean wit’ it, rock wit’ it”.
Featured image via Unsplash