This was our first misadventure to Williamsburg. I had just found out I had gestational diabetes and had to adjust how I ate. It was late August. I was very pregnant. Chris suggested going to Williamsburg for the day, and I tentatively agreed with some caveats:
Everything was ok until lunch. Lots of walking! Not too terribly hot for the middle of August! Live music at lunch! (Isaac was not so sure about that at ALL). I ordered some soup.
Ok, here’s the deal. I always get shaky low blood sugar if I go too long without eating, even if I’m not pregnant or nursing, but it’s fairly severe during those particularly taxing occasions. I was not totally surprised to find out I had gestational diabetes—I sweat if I eat too much candy and feel buzzed anytime I drink orange juice. But with this new carb-restrictive eating plan, I felt like I was having to eat constantly, but never eating enough to feel satisfied. I felt like all I was doing was waiting until the next chance to eat something in the hopes that this would be the meal that would make the woozy shakiness go away. At first anyway. So that’s how I felt 45 minutes after lunch—starving, exhausted, shaky.
“I think we should try to power through nap time!” Chris said enthusiastically.
Less than 15 minutes into the tour we were asked to take Isaac outside because he was too wiggly. I took him outside, where he promptly fell into a puddle in front of the next tour group. I tried to nap sitting up on a bench. It didn’t work. Chris finally came outside. I explained this was not fun. Isaac was throwing a tantrum because I wouldn’t let him throw rocks at a tree because a guide was giving me the stink eye.
There was no happy ending to this story, which is why it never got posted before now. We got carb-appropriate food from Chick-fil-A (the cobb salad with crispy chicken is a perfect 45 points or whatever I was supposed to stick to for dinner) and sat in rush-hour traffic on the way home. I swore I would never go back. We did, of course, for a successful (pre-nap) Christmas rendezvous. There, that’s the happy ending I guess!
In conclusion, Williamsburg is ok, but gestational diabetes and growing babies is ridiculously hard.
I like seeing Asians posing for pictures. I SO identify with that. It feels like I’m looking at our time in Japan through a mirror that inverts all the colors, but with nationalities. You know? I love it.