I feel like the only thing I ever do anymore is go to doctors. I go to the allergist, the dermatologist, the dentist, and the baby doctor. My boss probably thinks I am making up appointments. I had a baby doctor appointment on Friday. I first had to convince the nurse that I was 24.5 weeks, not 23 weeks. This was the first time I met her and she was rather indignant when I countered her claim that I was 23 weeks. She asked me where I had come up with 24.5 weeks. Had a doctor told me that? Yes, a doctor had told me, that but come on. I am also constantly aware of what week I’m at. I post a weekly picture. I read no fewer than 90 pregnancy week-by-week thingies each week. It’s on my Google calendar. I don’t know what her source was, but she refused to believe me until I told her my due date and she got out her little slide chart thing and told me that yes, I was in fact 24.5 weeks. She then realized that I should have been scheduled for a glucose screening at this appointment but it was too late in the day. She went on to scold me about how I better pass the test when I did take it or I would be punished by having to come back in for a 3-hour test. I asked her how I go about passing it (I’m thinking..maybe by not having gestational diabetes?). She said I better not come in with a Starbucks full of sugar, and I better stay seated during the test and not try to sneak out and go shopping or something.
Things only got better when the doctor came in and told me that he was sorry, but he was going to have to rush me. He had a patient who was 9.5 centimeters dialated. Now, the office is not in the hospital and is at least 10 minutes away. He congratulated me and Kenny on being pregnant. I couldn’t remember any questions I had for him and forgot to even update him on how I had been failing to breath a few weeks ago and how my allergist had changed my medication around. I was too concerned about that woman who was about to give birth and maybe wanting her doctor to be there. He listened to the baby’s heartbeat and commented that I was definitely pregnant (whew!). He didn’t argue with me or try to do any procedures twice though, so I will give him that.
I went back Monday morning for my glucose screening. They gave me about 10 oz of a very sweet Kool-Aid like drink and told me to tell them to take my blood an hour later. Much like telling us we can’t have cold deli meat, I’m pretty sure this is just one of those things they do to screw with pregnant women. I was in a nauseous, sleepy sugar coma until after lunch time.
And of course, the belly. 25 weeks. 15 more weeks? Where? How? My head will return to photos when I get a haircut. If I like it.