
Pregnancy is supposed to be one of those shimmering, glowing, belly-rubbing seasons. Or so the story goes. But when I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes (GD), everything changed. Instead of soft excitement and nursery Pinterest boards, I was measuring blood sugar, timing snacks, reading food labels, and crying in the grocery store cereal aisle.
It felt like GD had taken something precious from me. My joy. My spontaneity. My body. Even the way I imagined bonding with my baby.
If you feel like gestational diabetes is stealing your pregnancy — I hear you. I’ve been there. And I want to tell you something really important: it doesn’t have to stay that way.
I’m Julija, founder of HIgedi — and I know firsthand how heavy a gestational diabetes diagnosis can feel.
This part matters.
No matter when you were diagnosed, there’s often this sudden rupture between how you thought pregnancy would go and how it actually is. You imagined pancakes on weekends, spontaneous gelato runs, letting your body just “do its thing.” Instead, you’re learning about glycemic indexes, spiking numbers, and the guilt spiral that comes with every "off" reading.
And no one talks about it. Not really. Maybe your provider gave you a pamphlet. Maybe they told you it’s common. But not enough people acknowledge that it hurts. That it’s grief.
Because you’re not just adjusting your diet — you’re mourning the pregnancy you thought you’d have.
I didn’t wake up one morning suddenly okay with it. But over time, and with a lot of trial, error, and internal pep talks, I started feeling less like GD was my prison warden and more like… an annoying co-pilot. Here’s what helped:
Your numbers will fluctuate. You will have off days. There will be moments you do everything "right" and your blood sugar still spikes. That doesn’t mean you failed — it means you’re human. Learning to aim for consistency, not perfection, saved my sanity.
I started letting go of the guilt and noticing patterns instead. That mindset shift — from perfectionism to curiosity — was liberating. I learned to be kinder to myself, and that made a bigger difference than any exact carb count.
I started treating meals as experiments, not punishments. I tried new combos, I made little snack plates that looked pretty, I found ways to include what I craved — in a way that worked for my body. Slowly, meals became something I enjoyed again.
Even more unexpectedly — I discovered new foods I had never eaten before that became daily staples I still use now.
Like peanut butter. I know, I know. Some of you are probably laughing. But I’m a girl from Estonia — peanut butter wasn’t part of my childhood. It’s only started to catch on more recently, and it still isn’t a household staple for many. But during my GD days? It became my go-to. Apple slices, yogurt bowls, smoothies — it worked everywhere. It was creamy, rich, satisfying… and my blood sugar loved it.
Then came chia seed pudding. Despite loving healthy food and being someone who enjoys cooking and prepping, I had never made it before. But once I tried it? Total revelation. It was cozy, versatile, make-ahead-friendly — and tasted like dessert.
And then came the crunchy chickpeas. Sweet with cinnamon, savory with paprika and cumin, spicy if I felt like it. I couldn’t believe how satisfying they were. They scratched that “snack” itch without sending my numbers into chaos. I still make them now.
I never expected GD to expand my kitchen comfort zone. But strangely, it did.
There’s no one-size-fits-all GD diet. I had to figure out what my body responded to. Yes, that meant finger pricks and food logs — but it also meant more understanding and less fear. That’s power.
I learned that stress and sleep made just as big a difference as food sometimes. It took tuning in, adjusting, and letting go of comparison. That’s when I really started to feel like I was in the driver’s seat again.
Telling someone close to me, “This is really hard and I’m scared,” changed everything. Bringing a trusted family member to appointments or joining a support group can provide additional support and understanding. Communicating openly with your health care team or healthcare team is another important aspect for guidance and reassurance. I wasn’t doing this alone anymore. And when I found other GD mamas (thank you, Instagram), I finally felt seen.
Every adjustment, every number, every snack choice — they’re all small acts of care. For you and for baby. That doesn’t mean you need to be perfect. It just means you’re showing up. And that counts.
Sometimes I’d look at my pricked fingertips and think: this is love. Not the glamorous kind — but the kind that shows up, day after day, choice after choice.
One of the biggest lessons I learned is that managing gestational diabetes isn’t about drastic, overnight transformations. It’s about those small, consistent steps that add up to big wins. Whether it’s choosing brown rice over white rice, swapping sugary drinks for water, or fitting in a bit of moderate exercise when you can—these little shifts help keep your blood sugar levels in a healthy range and support your baby's health. And remember, it’s okay to ask for help. Your healthcare team is there to guide you through lifestyle changes, blood sugar monitoring, and treatment options like insulin shots or medicine if needed. Taking control doesn’t mean losing joy—it means reclaiming your pregnancy with kindness and strength.
Here’s the truth: gestational diabetes changes your pregnancy, yes. But it doesn’t get to take all of it.
You still get to feel excited. You still get to dream. You still get to have cravings, and soft clothes, and a body that’s doing something miraculous. You still get to be you — even if there’s a glucometer in your purse.
GD doesn’t get to write the whole story. You do.
So if you’re in that place — the one where GD feels like a thief — take a breath. You’re allowed to grieve. But you’re also allowed to take your joy back, one bite, one step, one day at a time.
So if you’re in it right now — thinking, “This is too much. I can’t do it. It’s ruining everything.”
Please hear me: It’s not over. It’s not ruined. It’s just… different.
And that difference might take you somewhere you didn’t expect. Somewhere steadier. Stronger. Wiser. Somewhere that tastes — unexpectedly — like peanut butter and cinnamon-roasted chickpeas.
You don’t have to love it. But you can live it — fully, honestly, and on your own terms.
You've got this.
💜
— Julija
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