Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
The diabetes thing kinda freaked me out, but I don’t want to burden him with that now. Clearly, he’s had a long, stressful day, and adding stress isn’t what I want or what he needs. I’ll tell him, eventually, just not now.
“Wow, someone’s not shy,” the tech says, pulling both our attention to her monitor. “See that?” she asks, pointing to the screen and clicking a few buttons. She takes a few still images, but the sight on the screen has me in complete awe. Our baby is there, all wiggly and perfect. My eyes burn with tears and the hand around mine tightens. I want to glance at him, to see his reaction, but I can’t take my own eyes away from the monitor. I’m totally transfixed to the sight, to our baby.
“Harrison and Gwen, say hello to your daughter.”
The rest of the appointment proceeds as if I’m floating on a cloud. A daughter. After the technician leaves, Dr. Taylor returns with a cup for a urine sample. As I get ready to head to the restroom, Harrison’s phone rings. “Work,” he says, excusing himself to step outside for a few minutes.
I do what’s needed for the urine sample and return to the room. It only takes a few minutes before Dr. Taylor returns, a grim look on her face. “It’s as I was suspecting, Gwen,” she starts. “There are sugars in your urine, as well as the significant weight gain. Both of these together are signs of what we call gestational diabetes,” she says, handing me a pamphlet. “Here’s more information on it. As long as we monitor and treat, if necessary, everything should be okay. There are a few health risks that increase with gestational diabetes, like pre-eclampsia and depression, so we’ll watch for those. Do you have any questions?” she asks.
I’m completely caught off guard. Gestational diabetes? No one in my family is diabetic.
“This condition develops in non-diabetic patients. It’s fairly common, affecting about 6 percent of all pregnancies,” she adds, letting me know I actually had asked my question aloud. “The good news is, if it is gestational diabetes, we’ve caught it early and will treat it, if necessary. Right now, I want to change your diet and add in a little exercise. Maybe a walk in the evening around the neighborhood or around the mall.”
“Like all the old people?” I ask, a smile playing on my lips.
“Yes, well, those walking clubs aren’t just for the elderly,” she replies with a laugh. “We’ll get your through this, Gwen.” Dr. Taylor glances around. “Did Harrison leave?”
“Oh, uh, work call.”
“Be sure to talk to him about this, okay?”
“I will,” I reply on autopilot.
Tucking the pamphlet in my purse, I head to the lobby and schedule my next appointment. As I step outside, Harrison is tucking his phone into his pocket. “All done?”
I nod, not yet bringing a voice to the concerns in my head. I need to wrap my head around this before I tell Harrison. I know he’ll instantly worry, and I don’t want that.
“Let’s go home.”
Chapter 15
Harrison
* * *
I’m hovering between being asleep and awake, but when I feel the bed dip and Winnie’s feet hit the floor, I’m fully awake. “You okay?” I ask her in the darkness of our room. We’ve only been in bed about an hour. It took me a while to relax, running through my to-do list at the office tomorrow. Things are crazier than ever with the new sites.
“Yeah, I’m thirsty, and I have to pee,” she says, making her way to the bathroom.
“Chocolate milk?” I ask, because that’s been her thing since she’s been pregnant. Well, that’s always been her thing, but more so since the pregnancy.
“No, just water,” she calls out through the door. “I can get it.”
I know she can, but so can I. Throwing the covers off, I pad down the hall to the kitchen and grab her a cold bottle of water from the fridge. By the time I make it back to our room, she’s climbing back into bed.
“Thank you.” Winnie takes the bottle and drinks greedily. She doesn’t stop until the bottle is empty. “My throat was dry, and now I regret it because I’ll have to pee again.” She softly laughs.
“You have an entire gallon of chocolate milk that’s about to expire. That’s not like you,” I tease her.
“Yeah, just haven’t been feeling it,” she says, burrowing under the covers.
I take my spot beside her in bed. Propping myself up on my elbow, my other hand caresses our baby girl. “Take it easy on Mommy,” I whisper to her belly. “Is there anything I can do?” I ask Winnie.
“Just be you,” she says, running her fingers through my hair. “Sorry, I woke you.”
“You didn’t, not really. I was just starting to doze off.”