Waiting and Watching the Cell Phone

I haven't been this obsessed with my cell phone since I was a single woman waiting for a man to call. I even did that thing where you call your cell phone from another phone to be sure it's working. The OCD around the phone is really taking me back to my dating days, which would explain why I am suffering simultaneously from chills and sweats. That's how much fun I had dating and putting myself "on the hook" for that guy from last Tuesday night to call or that guy from J-Date or that guy from work....who eventually called me, married me, and impregnated me, but not necessarily in that order.

Which brings me to my current dance with my cell phone.

Today's cold sweats owe their existence to the much-discussed glucose re-testing results I expect today. I just want to know: Do I have gestational diabetes ("GD") or not? I woke up this morning not feeling very well and couldn't decide if it was the GD or the tiny bite of blue cheese I had on Friday night in a salad served to me by a very kind and generous hostess whose only fault is not memorizing the kinds of cheeses a pregnanty lady cannot eat. In any case, the good news is that when the doctor calls about the GD test I can regale her with my latest symptoms and see what she says.

For any of you who remember posts from my bridal blog, "Bridled with Joy," you may recall that my therapist has an annoying habit of going out of town during the "big moments" of my life. Would it suprise any of my gentle readers to learn that the good doctor is out of town for two weeks. Do you know what two weeks means to a pregnant person? Two weeks is 1/6 of a trimester (if you let yourself round up and I do). In two weeks, I could potentially be a gestational diabetes patient-- a woman who has to see an endocrinologist and give herself insulin, while simultaneously NOT giving herself any processed sugar or carbs. One would think it would be nice to have the support of a therapist during a trying time such as this. You know, you try to buy yourself a substitute uber-parent who is going to step in and fill some emotional cracks, and you find yourself a Yale-educated therapist who seems to be in your corner, and you get your life on track by getting married and becoming willing to be a mom, and then he's gone when the freaking glucose treatment goes down.

Wait, was that my cell phone buzzing?