Cavewoman.

Sometimes its easy to say that God is good during the good times.

Its a bit harder to say that in the hard times.

But its still true.

Last week was an eventful week for me. I went to the doctor on Monday for a blood glucose screening test. I didn't think much about it ahead of time, since I did this when I was pregnant with Savannah and it was fine. However, this time my sugar level came back high. The lab technician reassured me that sometimes that happens, and that I just needed to come back for another test and it would probably all be fine. She scheduled the test for Wednesday.

On Wednesday, I returned to the doctor for a three-hour glucose tolerance test. During this test, you drink 100 grams of sugar (holy cow!) in five minutes, and then have your blood drawn every hour for three hours. About thirty minutes into the test, however, I got pretty violently ill. I started to sweat, shake, throw up, and then I had a nosebleed. The lab technician consulted with the doctor who advised that we stop the test and diagnose me with gestational diabetes.

I wasn't real familiar with gestational diabetes, and you may not be either. Basically, in a low percentage of women (because I'm never in the normal percentage, am I?), when they are pregnant, during the last three months of pregnancy, they become diabetic. The hormones somehow confuse the pancreas and it doesn't produce sufficient insulin, therefore causing high blood sugar. Typically, it goes away after the baby is born, although it is more likely to reoccur in future pregnancies.

So what does that mean exactly? It means that for now, I am a diabetic, and Brooklyn is now a high-risk baby. To be honest, I really didn't want to talk about this until now because I was so darn angry about it. It didn't seem fair to me that I could try my best to do everything right and follow all of the rules and end up with my baby having a high risk of something happening to her. I didn't expect to go through so many emotions over a medical diagnosis, so that caught me off-guard. But something weird happens to your insides when you are told you are at a higher-than-normal risk for things like preeclampsia, c-section, a baby with a learning disability, or a stillbirth. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still a bit frustrated. The next emotion I went through was a combination of guilt and shame... why would I be diabetic? This normally happens to women who are overweight or older or have a history of such issues... and I don't fit that mold... so why me? Will people think I'm obese if I tell them thats what I have? And this also means that I feel crummy... no wonder I'm exhausted... my body doesn't properly convert sugar into energy.

Sigh. As you can see, it has been quite a week that involved a lot of thinking and processing, and a whole host of emotions. But, being pouty about your circumstances and focusing on those is never a good place to be, as I was reminded just today. One of my favorite stories in the Bible is in the Old Testament, and a guy named Elijah was having a pretty crummy day, so he took to hiding in a cave. [If I had a dollar for every time I wanted to crawl in a cave myself this week...] So, God went to pull him out of his pity party. And, like me, Elijah was kind of hard-headed, and it took a good deal of effort. The first time God came... he asked Elijah what he was doing there. And Elijah basically told Him how he felt and how stressed out he was. And then God said... I want to show you something... but Elijah kinda sat there... feeling sorry for himself... and then there was a huge wind that was so strong it broke mountains into pieces. And then there was an earthquake. And then a fire. [Sounds ridiculous, right? But apparently Elijah was as stubborn as I am.] And then... a still, small voice. And Elijah got up, and went to the opening of the cave... and God asked him again... what are YOU doing HERE? And Elijah again stated his issues and God said... Go. Don't say here any longer.

So what does that have to do with anything? I'm getting there. I'm promise.

I was in a cave of my own self-pity and anger this week. And thats kind of ridiculous. And over the course of the past few days... I keep hearing that question... what are YOU doing HERE?

You're a daughter of the King!

You're more than a conqueror.

You claim that He made Brooklyn and loves her more than you do... so why don't you trust His plan?

Can't the same God that made her, also sustain her if its His will?

And if its not His will, do you really want to be anywhere else?

Quit concentrating on your circumstances - on all the things you don't know.

Those things are scary... and uncertain.

What DO you know?

God was the same before you walked into a scary situation, and He didn't change.

The same God is with you now, that was with you before.

If you said He was good before, that means He is still good. Always.

You are a daughter of the King.

You don't belong in a cave.

Go. Get out.

Don't stay here any longer.

I'm climbing out of my cave now. And I'm sure at some point I'll want to climb back in. But I'm also sure that I don't belong there. And that it may not be fair... or easy... but my God doesn't change... and I don't want to be anywhere but in the center of His plan for me.

Goodbye, cavewoman! Hello... sugar-free jello.