Last Tuesday, Brian and I had our first appointment with our new midwife. We switched because our health insurance switched due to Brian’s job (long story). The short story is that we liked her. Yay!
When we got to the clinic, I was informed to hold my bladder until I was called, but that if I absolutely couldn’t hold it, I should check in with the lady at the desk first. Oh yeah, I thought, no problem. I totally went before we left. Unfortunately, it continues to surprise me at how quickly my bodily conditions can change. Within 15 minutes, I was dying. I waddled to the front desk and asked the ladies what I should do. I felt like I was 5 years old asking Teacher permission to use the potty. They looked at me funny, asked if I was pregnant, and told me to just go and to pee in a cup just in case they needed a sample. I returned to my chair with a little brown bag and told Brian I had a present for him. Crisis averted.
This was mainly just a checkup and most everything looks and feels good with baby. We were sat down to watch a short video about preterm labor, and it scared me for two reasons. One, preterm labor is scary and two, the 80s hairstyles. I think we used the humor of the latter to get through the terror of the former for those 8 minutes.
In all seriousness, I’ve had two people close to me comment on how either they were born or birthed a child right around where I’m at now in my pregnancy (26 weeks), and that both terrifies and amazes me. Terrifies because I look at where I’m at now and how much more growing Little Duck has to do, and it seems impossible, unthinkable that such a little squirmy worm could live outside me at this point. At the same time, both of those babies lived and are very healthy and I am amazed at what modern medicine can do for us. Looking at it this way, it gives me some comfort knowing that amazing things are possible if my Little Duck decides to make an early appearance.
I decided to do the glucose test at this doctor’s appointment, and my midwife ordered some other blood tests to be done at the same time. Let the record show that there were no snacks (the glucose most definitely does not count) provided at this blood draw. For some reason, I’d heard vague horror stories about the glucose test over the years, and I can’t remember specifically why. For those who don’t know, they give you a 10 oz super sweet, syrupy drink that you have to drink within 5 minutes, then you wait an hour and get your blood drawn to test for gestational diabetes (pronounced a la Wilford Brimley). Now, I have a hard time drinking any substantial quantity very quickly, save from water. I could never guzzle, and forget kegstands. Needless to say, it took me the full 5 minutes to drink this stuff. The first few gulps were ok, but it had this ghastly lime aftertaste that just got worse and worse the more I drank. And then I started to burp and it was all downhill from there. At least I didn’t have any adverse reactions after drinking it, and hey, I passed the test. I hope Little Duck thoroughly enjoyed that sugar rush, cuz I ain’t doing it again.
Remember how I talked about body issues from my last post? Well, my midwife basically said that I’m not gaining weight fast enough. I responded by saying that I just eat when I’m hungry, even if that means it’s 3:30am, and I’ll continue to do so. My reasoning is that my body knows what it’s doing. The other note to take away from the visit was that my vitamin D levels are a bit low. I blame the Northwestern cloudcover; California would never have selfishly deprived me of my year-round sunny D. The recommendation was to either take a supplement, eat more dairy, or get some more sunshine.
Basically, putting all these recommendations together in my head, I picture myself in full sun on the beach in a bikini, hugely pregnant, belly hanging over, wearing a floppy hat and ginormous round sunglasses and eating the biggest ice cream sundae you’ve ever seen.