"I know, but it’s so scary. The odds are slim, but they’re still there, my numbers were off, weren’t they?"

Tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, do I have to fry onions? Can you have schnitzel wraps without fried onions? I wandered around my kitchen, looking for the pareve knife.

The phone rang. Leah. I stood in place. I will pay attention.

“Ma?” Leah whimpered, her voiced threaded with fear. I haven’t heard her sound like this since she broke her leg at Chanukah chagigah.

“What’s up, mamela? You don’t sound too good.”

“The doctor’s office just called.”

I felt my chest tighten.

“I failed my glucose screening. They said I have to come in for another one, a three-hour test.”

I exhaled. Okay, I failed my glucose screening in most of my pregnancies, I never ate properly like I was supposed to, I was always rushing and would just scarf something as I left the house, usually Shabbos cereal, which is probably the worst thing to eat.

“Okay, that’s not a big deal. It’s happened to me—”

“Not a big deal?” Leah cut me off. “I could have gestational diabetes!”

I waited for her to continue. Hold your tongue, Chana, let her talk.

“I could be hurting my baby. I Googled it. If the mother has gestational diabetes, there’s a higher risk of stillbirth.”

“Never Google your symptoms, especially when you’re pregnant,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying. “If Google thinks you’re dying on a regular day, Google says you’re already dead when you put in symptoms when you’re expecting.”

“Well, too late. Gestational diabetes also puts me at higher risk for preterm labor, preeclampsia, and having real diabetes when I’m older. What should I do? Do you think it’s because I’m eating too much?”

“Leah, calm down. These first round tests are so unreliable, I told you I had initial positive results with a whole bunch of you kids, and the three-hour test was always fine. It doesn’t mean anything. Planning your levayah at this point is a little premature.”

“I know, I know, but it’s so scary. The odds are slim, but they’re still there, my numbers were off, weren’t they? There’s just so much going on, adding another thing that can go wrong is just too much.” Leah sniffed.

“Leah, your hormones are definitely showing you who’s boss. Pregnancy is amazing and wondrous — you don’t have to think of it as your worst nightmare. Even if you do have gestational diabetes, chas v’shalom, it’s not the end of the world, you’ll be fine.”

“You’re not helping, Ma. You don’t listen to me!” Leah exploded, then choked out an “I have to go” and hung up. Wow, and I thought my hormones were bad when I was expecting. Should I call her back? I should call her back.

Leah didn’t answer. Does that leave me off the hook? I almost laughed at my own joke, but it just didn’t feel so funny. Maybe I could blame the tears on the onions.

Everyone tells me that I’m the best speaker, the best listener, but I can’t even get through a conversation with my own daughter without her hanging up on me.