It’s like…no…it isn’t like. I HAD plans for posts this week.
My brain was actually functioning to the point where I HAD A PLAN.
This is big, people. The brain function to the point of forethought and memory. Just yesterday, Tim was all, “Why did you tell me that it was ‘the end of the 50s’ this morning when you’re now saying it is supposed to be 60 degrees today??!”
Me: I never said that.
Tim: Um…yes…when you came into the bathroom after you woke up…
Me: I have zero recollection of those words. Zero.
However, much like life will
probably become come next month, any grand “plans” I may have will be dictated by the sprout.
(Let’s not kid ourselves, here)
Yesterday started out completely
Tim drives me to all of my OB appointments and we try to make them in the morning. Tim drives me to the appointment, back home, and then goes to work.
It’s a system that works and yesterday, we decided to get up REALLY. EARLY. (which, technically, is sleeping in for Tim during the week) at 5:30 and hit the gym before my appointment for an hour on the elliptical, since that – along with walking – is all I can really do at this point without being in major lady bits pain the next day.
By 8am I had gotten my workout in, showered and had breakfast.
I had received a call the day before from the OB, stating the doctor I was scheduled to see was on call. This? Not exactly the best thing when you live an hour away. Tim and I try to book appointments with non-on-call doctors but, as memory (doesn’t) serve, I didn’t recall them telling me she was on call when we made the appointment two weeks ago.
I called the office right before we left and was told that she was there and no one really saw her leaving to go to the hospital for a delivery any time soon.
Famous last words.
Not five minutes before we got to the office I received another phone call to tell me that, surprise! The doctor had to rush out to the hospital for a delivery.
After a few choice words by Tim and my trying to reschedule our appointment, we had to turn around and drive all the way back home.
Only to drive back later that afternoon for a 3pm appointment.
Yay (insert long, drawn out, dripping sarcasm).
Tim basically dropped me off at home and turned right back around to drive down into Denver for work.
The poor man ended up driving somewhere close to 200 miles yesterday.
Funny story…when we got to the OB’s office at 3pm for attempt number two, the receptionist was all, “The doctor you’re scheduled to see JUST LEFT for a delivery.”
Seriously. The F?!
I stared at the receptionist all, “This is the second time we’ve driven down here…it’s an HOUR AWAY…can someone else see us?”
While Tim and I sat and waited to see if the other OB at the office would squeeze us in, I was all, “I’m skipping this 34 week appointment if they try to reschedule us again.”
Tim was all, “Word.”
…good thing they were able to squeeze us in because our typical five minute appointment lasted almost an hour and a half.
During our first trip down to the office, I told Tim that in one of the pregnancy boards I frequent, I kept reading about these women who had picture perfect pregnancies and then they go to the doctor one day, totally unassuming and then BLAM!
Obviously, I shouldn’t have said that.
Saying that is like tempting the pregnancy gods.
The OB who saw me was chastising her nurse outside of our door all, “She’s not on my list! Why is she here?!”
The nurse was all, “They live really far away….”
I didn’t hear any of this and heard about it later on, second hand from Tim, but apparently he heard her and immediately started playing defense the second she walked in all, “This is the second time we’ve been here today…our morning appointment was canceled…”
And the doctor back tracked a little and was all, “Oh. Right. That woman. She still hasn’t delivered yet.”
The F, pregnant woman? That’s TWICE you’ve done this to us…squeeze it out!
Anyway, the appointment started off normal enough…until she measured my “fundal height” (basically the number of centimeters between my pelvic bone and the top of my uterus for you non-preggos).
She looked down at her measuring tape, measured again and then was like, “Maybe it’s just me but…I’m only measuring you at 30 centimeters…and you’re 34 weeks…”(which means my fundal height should be somewhere near 34 centimeters)
Then she starts asking about movement and I tell her that baby sprout had two days of hardly any movement and was this normal?
Begin barrage of questions firing out of her mouth so fast that I wasn’t even sure what I was answering anymore.
OB: How much less movement?
Me: I barely got my 10 kicks in an hour when he usually gets them in 15 minutes.
OB: How many Braxton Hicks contractions?
Me: A day? Yesterday?
OB: An hour.
Me: Um…2 or 3?
OB: The average?
Me: A day?
OB: No, an hour…in a day.
OB: Are you having watery discharge?
Me: Yes?…I told another doctor about it already?
OB: When? How long has this been happening? How much? How often?
OB: Take your pants off. I’ll be back…want to make sure you’re not leaking amniotic fluid.
After she left the room, Tim and I looked at each other like, “What just happened?” This particular OB isn’t very good at expressing what is going on inside of her brain, so we mostly just get pieces parts and then have to try and put the rest together. Granted, if there was an emergency situation, she’d be the one I’d want handling it but OMG. I don’t understand doctor speak. Please help.
The doctor came back in to check to see if I was leaking and I’ll save the gory details. Suffice it to say that the “leaking amniotic fluid test” is basically like a turn and cough for men…except with your cervix.
After she found that I wasn’t leaking fluid – which could have been on reason I was measuring small, she was all, “We’re going to check to see how the baby is doing, now.”
Apparently, that meant I had to lay down on my side and get hooked up to this little machine that recorded the sprout’s heartbeat for 20 minutes.
We didn’t know it was 20 minutes and kept looking at each other like, “How long do we do this?” until the doctor came in after about 15 and was all, “We just need to see how he’s doing after 20 minutes.”
Then she left again.
I mean really, people. Can someone please explain what’s going on?
Tim and I just sat there, listening to the sprout’s heartbeat (which, by the way, was averaging somewhere around 150).
Twenty minutes later, doctor lady comes back in, checks the printout of his heart rate and was all, “We want to see two spikes in his heart rate in 20 minutes…annnd…we have that so, good. He looks good.”
THEN she was all, “Grab your stuff, I need to measure your amniotic fluid on the ultrasound” and starts walking out, looking back to make sure we’re following her.
As I’m rushing out of the exam room, Tim is behind me with my purse and I look down and notice socks on my feet and turn back around to Tim all, “My shoes! Honey! My shoes!”
Tim turned heel and ran back to the exam room, grabbed my shoes and then followed us into the ultrasound room where the doctor was already getting my belly ready.
Baby sprout is so big now that you can’t really see much other than big blobs of stuff that might be a foot or the umbilical cord or something else but she took her measurements, showing us where I had big pockets of fluid and determined I definitely wasn’t low on that.
Then…she tried to find his head.
Because baby sprout is apparently still laying transverse with his head shoved in my left hip and his legs somewhere near my ribs on the right side. Basically, completely diagonal and not at all where he should be.
We told her that this is where he’s been pretty much the entire time.
She looked at us with this face like, “Are you serious?” and then was all, “I was worried about five different things and none of them seem to be the issue, here but you need to come back next week for another ultrasound to check his size and position…and then see a doctor.”
I was like, “So, ultrasound next week and a doctor at 36 weeks?”
OB: No…both…next week…
(apparently I’m just not very smart or I don’t understand basic English)
So…this upcoming Tuesday…back to the doctor…again…after much finagling with the scheduling between the ultrasound tech and a doctor because one of the appointment schedulers was all, “No more on call for them. They live entirely too far away.”
Tim and I walked out around 4:30 and we were both like, “Um…wow. That was unexpected.”
Then Tim was like, “Why did you have to say anything about having a normal pregnancy and then BLAM?”
I know…MY BAD.
Good news, though, baby sprout is ok as far as we know. His comfy transverse position that he doesn’t want to vacate may have had an impact on why I am measuring a month behind where I really am. We’ll find out next week if that’s the case…along with how big he is…or isn’t…
I’m having extreme nesting urges today, now, because I was up from midnight to somewhere around 3am reading about transverse babies and things that could *potentially* be causing it, like a fibroid (which I have), a placenta that isn’t functioning correctly, a misshapen uterus…too much amniotic fluid…did you know that it is dangerous for your water to break if your baby is transverse because the cord could prolapse (get into the birth canal before the baby) and that spells serious emergency for the baby. Like, life or death kind of thing, which is why if a baby doesn’t turn they do an earlier c-section to try and avoid this possibility.
So, now, I’m trying to prepare my brain for the possibility of him coming early.
At this point, I want to be ready for anything, including a super early arrival if something is wrong come Tuesday.
I told Tim on the way home that if he’s still transverse for a reason and moving would be bad mojo, then I don’t want him moving. At all.
Baby sprout knows this. I’ve told him.
However, I also said that, knowing how feisty he’s going to be, he’s probably laying there all, “I’m comfortable, dammit, leave me alone.”