And I don’t mind admitting it.
It’s now been 45 minutes since I finished eating three eggs with cheese and two pieces of jelly toast. I thought the toast would be a shoe-in to get the little guy moving, but so far, no luck. Joe’s on his way home right now to take me to the doctor’s office, and we’re supposed to be there at 1.
I’m getting more than a little wigged out.
I will not panic, I will not cry, not until I know what I’m up against. Flunking the glucose test was hard enough, but this is ridiculous. I’m trying to find solace in my faith, to understand what this can teach me, and although I’m coming up with a lot of positive lessons in the end, going through it is minor hell. (It won’t be major hell unless something really awful happens.)
I’m going to go rest a little more.