glucola.

(Picture that word being said to the tune of the "Ricola" commercials -- that's how it is in my head, at least.)

Took my gestational diabetes test this morning, which consisted of waking up at 7:15 and immediately drinking a glass of flat, extra-sweet orange soda. Gross. I felt nauseated, but otherwise made it through the hour-long wait to have my blood drawn -- and then we got to go out to breakfast at a favorite place in Sycamore, so it all worked out. Now I'm just waiting to hear the good news that the tests are negative!

We went to Beth Shalom for services last night and several strangers came up to congratulate me/us on our pregnancy. I guess it must be obvious enough now that people aren't worried about offending me if I'm just heavy rather than with child. There aren't many children at the synagogue (I think they have 8 attending their Hebrew/Sunday School currently), so it's probably exciting for everyone to have a new baby in the congregation.

It's crazy to think that I'm almost in the third trimester -- rounding the bases and heading for home! If our baby were born this week, she would have a 70% chance of surviving, and more than that with every passing day. That's at least somewhat comforting to think about. I can tell she's getting bigger every day, too, because her kicks and jabs are much harder and more visible (something that Jason finds pretty amusing to watch). And only two more months until my maternity leave begins...time is starting to fly by!