Tag Archives: pregnancy weight gain

26 weeks: Channeling Aretha

R-E-S-P-E-C-T! That’s the song I felt like belting out as I soared out of the diabetes in pregnancy clinic earlier this week all afloat with good momma-to-be vibes swooping through me.

When I walked into the clinic Tuesday morning, I was prepared to give them hell if they gave me any trouble – any trouble! – with my weight gain or BG control. I’d been practicing in my car all week with strong one-sided conversations with that nasty dietitian I saw last, and I was determined not to let her break my shell again. But the practice was all for not. This week I saw a new dietitian, and my favourite endocrinologist of the clinic was back from her European holidays.

The past couple appointments I’ve felt dread walking through these doors, but not anymore!

So what happened? Well, let’s start with the weight gain: It seems I’m down a smidge from a month ago (0.7 kg to be exact) which could have something to do with the fact that because these medical peeps have essentially freaked the crap out of me, I wouldn’t step on that scale without first removing my shoes, jeans, insulin pump and watch! (FYI: the scale is in the washroom, no one is around me, I could have gotten stark naked if I so desired… and believe me, the thought did cross my mind.)

The new dietitian, who I really liked was a little concerned with my slight weight loss, and so I told her what I did and why. Her eyes half bulged at my reasoning for stripping down. She told me I am in no way overweight for my pregnancy, that in fact, I’m slightly below the range I should be. Not upsettingly low, just 1 kg below the 73 to 77 kg range they’d prefer I be in. She told me not to worry about weight gain, I’m “on the right track.”


Seriously, with meals like this, how could I not be viewed as healthy?

She was also super impressed with how much I check my blood sugars. I half-laughed and told her that over the years I’ve become a bit OCD with my BG control, even before pregnancy, to which she replied I was a breath of fresh air after dealing with so many others who hardly ever check their blood sugars.


When it was time to see my favourite endocrinologist of the clinic, I was so super happy and took the opportunity to combine the diabetes appointment with a counselling session. Pretty much as soon as I walked into her office, I was spilling out every bad appointment I’d had since she left more than a month ago, the tears, the nasty comments, the worries, the fears, everything. And I kid you not, I think she might have been more offended than I was with the situation. She told me in no way should any of that have been said to me. She said my HgA1c is “outstanding,” and that “it’s the best of anyone in that clinic,” and that my belly, which measured 25 and a half inches, was perfectly in line with being 25 and a half weeks at the time, and that the higher blood sugars I was experiencing corresponded to the exact same time that non-diabetics get tested for gestational diabetes due to a healthy placenta pumping out added hormones that make it more difficult for insulin to do its job efficiently. “You are doing everything right,” she said. “Don’t let them freak you out!”


You better believe I was channeling Miss Aretha!

So basically, suck it nasty doctors and dietitians!

Hitting a nerve

It seems I may have hit a nerve with my numbers on a scale post a few days ago, and you know what, I’m glad I did. Because while I knew in my heart that I was doing everything right (I mean, seriously, a girl that eats this much salad while pregnant can’t be in the wrong) on the surface I was beginning to second guess my actions with Ms. Dietitian’s criticism of my weighty outcomes.

Despite my hemoglobin A1c (three-month average blood sugar reading) being a consistent 5.5, which is pretty darn good, and despite my veering away from my love of chocolate and ice cream for the most part throughout the duration of this pregnancy, and massively mowing down on salads galore, when I heard Ms. Dietitian’s words telling me that my weight was far too weighty, all logic flew right out of my head.

I started thinking more about chocolate and ice cream and cookies and pizza. I mean, if I was doing everything right, eating super healthy, being super active, and still gaining more weight than I apparently should be, why the heck not indulge in those oh-so tempting sweets I’ve been forgoing. I kid you not, it was like virtual emotional eating without actually doing it.

Heck, I even had the guilt clouding my every judgement. Every time I was faced with a food/meal option, I weighed every ounce of my decision – is that too many carbs, how fatty is that, what will that do to my ass? Are you freaking kidding me? This is NOT the kind of person I am, and it is the furthest character I should be embracing when trying to cook up a healthy, alien thumb-sucker.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had issues with medical peeps specializing in the diabetes field. And I’ve often wondered if a) they’re either checking out, or b) they have a set checklist that they follow, not keeping in mind that every person is different, every body is different, every file is different.

So, to all of you who left me messages in one form or another, I thank you. You put reason back into my brain. I’m pregnant. I’m eating healthy. My BG is near perfection. And dammit, if I gain a pound or two or more, so be it – I got a strong little kicker in my belly!

Sara’s comment summed it up perfectly: Let’s say that pregnant women gain an average of 25 lbs during pregnancy. Well, how do they calculate averages? Some are going to gain more than that, some are going to gain less than that. It’s an AVERAGE.

And don’t worry Sara, I’ll be sure to get a second opinion if someone out there (beyond me, of course) suspects I’m growing an alien 😉

So, instead of worrying about the weight I’m gaining, I’ve decided to put that energy into worrying about whether or not Big Ring and I will kill this season’s crop of flowers, herbs, tomatoes and strawberries. We don’t have a very good success rate to date, but by golly, we are determined to have at least one thriving crop in our lifetime.

Fingers are crossed this will be our year!

22 weeks: numbers on a scale

I’m not a crier, I hate breaking down into tears, I try to avoid it at all costs. But this morning, when I walked out of the pregnancy in diabetes clinic, that’s exactly what I wanted to do. I felt like a failure, a disappointment, a bad diabetic – a feeling I haven’t felt since my days of chubbiness, inactivity, and out-of-control diabetes.

I walked into this appointment believing I’d get a glowing report. My BG numbers have been great, the lows have dissipated, and my activity levels have majorly elevated (did I mention I’ve done seven hikes in a week and a half and have another one planned for tomorrow?). But, despite the doctor exclaiming I was the first patient she’s ever had where she hasn’t had to implement any insulin pump adjustments, because of my good BG numbers, I was read the riot act by the dietitian regarding my weight gain.

In two weeks I have gained 2.2 kilograms, and apparently I’m just 0.1 to 1.0 kilograms away from the weight gain goal they had set for me early in the pregnancy (which, by the way, they did not inform me of). In total, I’ve gained either 21 or 22 pounds.

                       Me last summer.                                       Me last Friday.

I know a lot of the weight came from the four-and-a-half months of lows causing me to guzzle back gallons of orange juice, but my BG has since balanced out resulting in a major scale back of the orange juice intake in the last month. I don’t indulge in sweets, I was off the chocolate and cookies for months as they made me sick (and I still don’t eat much of them), I rarely have ice cream, and when I do, it’s a piddly half cup serving that I allow myself. I don’t touch donuts, bon bons, potato chips – none of that! I have cravings, for sure I do, but I don’t succumb to them for fear of what they’ll do to my blood sugars, and thus what they’ll do to thumb-sucking alien baby. I eat tons of salads, I love my salads, I eat vegetables, fruits, lean meats. All healthy foods.

Granted, my breakfast, morning and afternoon snack intakes have more protein than pre-pregnancy, because that’s what they told me to do, and my evening snacks are also heavier than pre-pregnancy, again because that’s what they told me to do. I believe I am doing everything right.

And yet, when the dietitian grilled me on my daily food intake, I got the feeling she didn’t believe me – I mean, if I’m such a good diabetic, why the heck else would I be gaining all this weight right? And when she couldn’t crack me, she suggested I opt for low-fat cheese instead of full-fat cheese, and that maybe I omit the quarter chunk of avocado I sometimes put in my lunchtime salads, and also scale back on the margarine I put on my grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. But, I’m sorry, how is low-fat cheese a better option? How is low-fat Laughing Cow, which really isn’t all that different from regular Laughing Cow, a better option? How is taking out good fats like avocado, which I don’t have all the time, a better option. And yes, maybe I could scale back on the margarine, but I’m pretty sure the bit I have once, maybe twice a week, isn’t what’s causing this weight gain. But I’m not a dietitian right… not yet at least!

My moms informed me that the babies in our family are bigguns, and that I’m probably just growing a good, healthy kid; Big Ring reminded me that my breast size has majorly increased (from a 34A to 34D!!!) which could explain some of those numbers on the scale; and one of my most favourite running chicks told me it’s better to feed thumb-sucking alien baby than to starve it … she followed that up with the sound advice that I can’t always be perfect, something I’m finding extremely difficult to come to terms with 😉

ps. On a much happier note, thumb-sucking alien baby has become quite the active kicker!