So here I am, trying to mind my own business, hoping the pregnancy gods would feel that they had given me enough to deal with what with the ever-worsening varicosities and the unsightly weight gain. I wasn't even worried at my appointment yesterday; I had been feeling the baby moving; the ultrasound looked good.
And then I failed my stupid glucose test! Huh? I've passed that thing five times now, and time six I flunk? So now I have to take the three hour test, which involves fasting, and then drinking vials of vile sweet stuff (although I have to admit everyone says how awful these tests taste, and I really don't mind them!), and then being pricked intermittently. For three hours. At the doctor's office.
I guess the good part is I get three kid-free hours! Whatever will I do?
Smoking. I'll take up smoking.