دانلود رمان انگلیسی “مادر بودن صادقانه”، درباره از دست دادن عقلم و پیدا کردن خودم

I don’t have time for this crap. I sat in my car, looking down at the bottle of orange syrupy liquid in my hand that the lab tech had casually instructed me to drink. I took a sip. Nasty. But alas, I am a good girl, so I drank it. A few hours later, I was back at the lab, eyes closed and my arm outstretched while the tech pierced my vein and drew my blood to see how well my body was tolerating the sugar bomb. A positive test result would mean I’d won the gestational diabetes lottery and that my body wasn’t processing sugar properly. This diagnosis would come with a strict new diet to avoid health complications for both me and the baby. And sure, I wanted a healthy baby. But also? Sugar is one of my personal seven wonders of the world. The idea of giving up Twizzlers and Two-Bite Brownies for the duration of my pregnancy? Unrealistic. Sadistic, even. Since getting pregnant, I’d become a blood-test frequent flyer. The amount of visits to the doctor, midwife, and lab made monitoring my health feel like a part-time job. I already had two of those. By day, I worked a high-stress job on my feet as an educational assistant, supporting students with special needs in schools across my rural county. By night, I was a server at a fast-paced fancy restaurant. Between the two jobs, I crushed my step goal every day. By nearly all measures, I was a healthy twenty-five-year-old pregnant woman. Still, they had to check the boxes, I guess. When I arrived at my midwife’s office a few days later to get my results, I was greeted by a fill-in. Let’s call her…Agatha. Think the Trunchbull from Matilda, whiskers and all. She called my name, and I waddled into her office. “I’ve got your results here,” she said with a thick Austrian accent, pursing her lips. “Are you drinking coffee?” “Just decaf tea,” I said, proud of myself for being a rule follower. “Sugar?” she asked, with her head cocked to the side, as if she already didn’t believe what I was going to say. “No, just milk,” I said, shifting in my seat, my legs throbbing after my long day at work. “Good. Your result is negative. BUT! You could still develop diabetes at any time and that would be very bad for your baby! You must be careful. No junk food, no candy, no sweets, and no sugar in your coffee!” she asserted triumphantly. Ludicrous! I felt my eyebrows lift and tried to pull them back down, desperate to hide what I was really thinking. “If you really need a treat, have a handful of raisins,” she added. I held back my laughter like my life depended on it. “I can’t have any sugar whatsoever?” I asked, in utter disbelief. “Yes, no candy or treats. Eat whole foods and only those that are naturally sweet,” she said. Did she live on planet Earth? I gave a polite nod while my mind drifted to my hunger pains and the doughnut I planned to eat on the way to my second shift after this appointment. I’ll try to cut a realistic amount of sugary things from my diet, but hard pass on the raisins, Agatha. I’ve got enough to think about. She carried on with the rest of the appointment, weighing me, listening to my stomach, and listing off more rules. “Drink lots of water! Take your vitamins. Don’t be stressed; the baby can feel it. No processed meat. Don’t gain too much weight but make sure you are eating enough. Take care of yourself,” she said.