Like Princess Kate, all my pregnancies come with hyperemesis gravidarum. That?s the polite way to say it. Really, I know I?m knocked up because I throw up?a lot. It?s gotten worse with every kid, and by baby No. 3, my beloved OB/GYN was sending in prescriptions at week seven. The meds tamped down the nausea somewhat, but they also made me desperately sleepy. And since I was still nauseated, I had to eat what I could, when I could. Hankering for french fries" Great. Ice cream" Eat it. Pizza" Snarf it down. Who knew when I would eat next"
I just kept throwing up. And yet, I wasn?t losing weight. I was gaining weight?a lot of it. At the 12-week mark, I’d already gained at least 15 pounds. With a strong family history of type two diabetes, I called my OB. ?I think I need a glucose test,? I told her. At twelve weeks pregnant, when many women are coming in for their first prenatal visit, I was prescribed metformin, a drug intended to control blood sugar. But no matter what diet I stuck to (and it was very hard to stick to a diet when I was throwing up), I couldn?t control my blood sugar. My numbers swung up and down, up and down, every time I pricked my finger for a home glucose test.
So they prescribed insulin, which meant shots.
Three times a day, I carefully measured my dose and injected it into my thigh. I?d like to make it sound nicer. But when you?re sitting in a bathroom, usually on a toilet seat, stabbing yourself with a needle around your increa...