After the whole gestational diabetes debacle, I was really looking forward to a big postpartum breakfast of donuts, orange juice, toast, and maybe a small vat of maple syrup to drench the whole lot in for good measure. Well, I didn’t go quite that far — just a glass of juice and some toast with jam — and an hour and a half later I was spiked up past 200, much much worse than any number I’d seen in pregnancy. To say it was a harsh blow would be an understatement.
So I kept on keeping on, logging my cursed food and pricking my damned fingers, but now while caring for a newborn. It was not fun and I was most definitely not looking forward to my two-hour glucose test at six weeks, where it seemed that they would tell me I’d be put on Metformin forever, because apparently what was supposed to have been a temporary condition might really have been developing all along. But, quite surprisingly, I chugged that 75 grams of nasty and came out pretty well on the other end. Not great — certainly borderline — but not diabetic. What I’m considering pre-diabetic. I was advised to reach and maintain an ideal weight, and remain cautious with my diet. Both of which I’ve taken mostly to heart and continue to do. I also send drops of dried blood to a lab every quarter, where they measure my A1C; so far the results have been acceptable. I’m currently about ten pounds to an ideal BMI.
This is what I’ve found my best working diet should look like, more or less, to achieve both goals:
As you can see, it has very little to do with the currently recommended food pyramid. Or plate. Or whatever subsidized grain-heavy gimmick is now in common use. But it works, when I can stick to it. This summer I strayed, and gained four pounds. Of course vampirically hiding inside from the sun had a bit to do with that too.
Statistically, my risk of developing Type II diabetes within ten years increased 50% above that of the general population with my GD diagnosis. But, statistically, subsequently changing my habits and reaching an ideal weight will drastically reduce that risk. I’m not a gambler, and it helps to remember the odds while I’m daily battling a very deeply-ingrained lifelong adoration of baked goods.