Nobody warned you about the admin.
Gestational diabetes comes with a diet sheet, a meter and a job: four readings a day, each timed from a meal, all written down for someone else to read.
You forget when the window opens.
One or two hours after the first bite, while you’re feeding a toddler, or asleep, or just living. The oven clock is not a timer.
The number lives in three places.
The meter says 145. The notebook says 112. The sticky note is on the fridge. By Thursday one of them is lost.
The clinic gets a phone screen.
Photos of notes, a text with twelve numbers, a scroll through Notes. Ten minutes of a fifteen-minute appointment.
The app, screen by screen.
Real screens from the current build, in the language you’re reading this in.

Today, with a check window running

The window on your Lock Screen

One meal: reading, note, medication

Your patterns over a month

The report, ready to share

Your visit agenda, ready for the clinic

Today, between meals

The window on your wrist
12:14 pm → 2:14 pm
One meal, start to finish.
- 12:14 pmTap once at the first bite.
The window starts itself and counts down on your Lock Screen, Dynamic Island and Apple Watch.
- 2:14 pmLog it in two taps.
Or scan the meter. The reading is checked against your clinic’s targets on the spot: in range, or over.
- ThursdayHand over one clean report.
PDF or CSV, any date range, from the share sheet you already know.
Hands busy? “Siri, start lunch in First Fork.”
Then your clinic gets this.
Every reading with its time and its meal, checked against the targets you entered. One PDF, or a CSV if your clinic is the spreadsheet kind.
