This past week has been crazy. I walked out of the thirty-six-week appointment excited, nervous, thankful, and slightly freaking out. My hope was that the shot would hold for another week so the baby would reach full-term.
It was a busy week. I should have been cleaning the house. I actually did a little bit, but let's be honest here. I want to write. And I did. I think I wrote more in the past week than I have in the past year. Actually, I know I have. Right now, I'm clocking in at 7500 words since I woke up YESTERDAY. We'll get back to that in a bit.
The week was definitely busy, but we're just going to go straight to Friday's appointments.
I have a trick when it comes to scheduling appointments. Pay attention. It's the best little trick ever, especially if you don't like waiting forever in a doctor's office.
When I make my appointments, I schedule for the one right as they open either in the morning or right after lunch. This almost always guarantees that we will be in and out of the appointment in a matter of minutes. Did you hear that? MINUTES. I never have to wait more than five minutes before being called to have my vitals checked and go to the exam room. I never have to wait for an hour because the doctor has fallen behind.
My husband is often frustrated because when he goes for his appointments, he waits sometimes for two hours before seeing his doctors. It's because he hasn't figured out my trick.
If I am able to take the eight o'clock appointment or the one o'clock, it's golden.
This time, I wasn't able to take either appointment. Imagine that.
My appointment for the ultrasound was for 9:30. Timmy was with my friend. Initially my friend told me that I'd need to pick him up at 10:30 because she'd already had plans. That meant that I had forty-five minutes to work with. I was very thankful when she said that she wouldn't be able to leave until eleven. I felt a ton of relief, but I still had my doubts that I would be able to complete the ultrasound appointment, especially if they were running behind.
And I knew they were.
I waited fifteen minutes to be called back for my urine sample. I've mentioned a little bit about the amenities there.
I'm going to gripe, but this is about every doctor's office that a pregnant woman has to go to.
My belly is huge. Ginormous. It has its own postal code in ANOTHER COUNTRY. I would have a belly cast made of it, but I'd have to file a construction permit. I'm not sure there's that much plaster that can be found in a 6000-mile radius. So you've seen the picture and KNOW how huge it is.
The cups they give you to pee in are small. Somewhere over the course of the pregnancy, they go from being average-sized to being frickin' thimbles. Kind of like the boy shorts turning into thongs.
I can't see around my belly. I can't even see my feet (Thank GOD I haven't worn two separate shoes while shopping this time around. Yes, I did that with Timmy and it took me a long time to realize that I'd done that). The game now when I have to leave a urine sample is "Catch the pee while you can't see." It's fun. I get to pee all over my hand twice a week. Lovely thought. Doctors should offer basins to pregnant women after a certain point.
But then we probably wouldn't get our 'training' in. Baby's going to pee, poop, and puke all over us in a few weeks, so what's a little pee on the hand, right?
Sigh.
So I leave my sample and have the misfortune of going back out to the lobby where I wait and wait and wait. I'm not called back until 10:15. This isn't boding well at all.
Blood pressure is great, weight is great (well, if you like being the size of beached whale). And then it's time for the ultrasound.
At first, baby is moving around. She looks wonderful. Then she decides it's time for her mid-morning siesta right as the tech is wanting her to practice her breathing. The tech has me roll onto my side to wake her up. Yeah, right. The kid's snoozing. Where was the tech at 2 AM when she was kicking the crap out of me and screaming, "Wake up, Mommy? How you doin?"
Since being on my side was not going to work, the tech told me that she was going to have to get The Stimulator. The stimulator was this buzzing thing that sounded like an electric razor. Baby kicked the crap out of me for a second and decided she just really wanted to go back to sleep. Must be nice. I would have loved going back to sleep at three AM. Or even four would have been nice. Five, not so much when the freakin' alarm clock sounds at 5:15.
Memo for once she is born: This is called 'training.' She's going to be up all night. Lucky you. Find a hot vampire and ask him to bite you. Watch your tone though, you don't want him to run away.
The tech runs the stimulator again...with the same results. Next, she gives me two cups of ice-cold water. That woke her up.
I didn't have to meet with the specialist, but the tech advised me to drink plenty of water to help me with the cramping. Because I just haven't had enough this week.
It wasn't anything horrible, just discomfort. And the knowledge that something is going on in the nether regions. I know, tmi.
I made it back to pick up Timmy with a few minutes to spare.
For my next appointment, I was switched to one of the nurse practitioners because my doctor was on-call and had to go to the hospital. Pregnant women....
The NP tells me that my group-B strep came back negative. That's a first for me. Okay, it may have been negative with Timmy, but because I went into preterm labor, I hadn't received my results before I had him.
I then have the NP check me, which again, I don't really want, but....
"You're dilated to three."
Cue nervous laugh on my part.
"This is the worst possible weekend for me to have the baby. My husband has to work."
"It might not happen this weekend, but I'd make preparations. It could happen any time. If it hasn't happened by June first, we will induce. I'd like for you to come back on Monday or Tuesday since you go to the specialist on Fridays. We will be monitoring the baby for stress."
I heard what she was saying, but I was still kind of freaking out about being dilated to three.
Four, by the way, is when a pregnant is hospitalized because she is in active labor.
Cue massive freak-out as I drive home.
