So I got a call this morning at work from the OB’s office. It was come in at 10:15 (rather than 2pm) or I’d have to reschedule again. The worst thing about this is that Charlie had to work last night so he didn’t get home until about 4 in the morning (and that was earlier than usual because someone else closed), and I had to be in at 5:30 this morning and wasn’t supposed to leave until noon, so I had to ask Leticia and Sarah if it was okay to head out at 9:45am. I got almost nothing done at work from our usual morning routine and had to leave the girls alone just to go see this friggin’ doctor who has irritated me since the first time I made an appointment with her almost two months ago.
So I lost three hours of paid time (which I need for my health insurance), and Charlie wanted to go so he lost a few hours of sleep. And we ended up being there from 10:15 until almost one in the afternoon. I got a lot of blood drawn, peed in a cup, gave a history of my family to the nurse, and got one ultrasound. I definitely think it could have been a lot more efficient and I didn’t appreciate being made to wait for so long with a full bladder. We sat in the waiting room until 10:30 when someone finally called us back to weigh me. I had to pee so bad my eyeballs were floating. It turns out, I only needed to pee in the cup for them to determine I really was pregnant. Ugh.
The doctor was very loud, and not in a “fun” way. She was sort of abrasive and I noticed she really never made eye contact with me. Other than the nurse who spoke with us at first, I didn’t like anyone in the office. They were all really standoffish and much more interested in their conversations with each other than with what we were doing. Which mostly consisted of twiddling our thumbs and looking for the bathroom.
I got a picture of the peanut, which I would share with you, but it’s kind of scary. When you look at it from the front it looks like Chester Cheetah. When you turn it upside down it looks like Admiral Akbar from Star Wars.
The bad news is, I’m not even out of the first trimester yet, which is what everyone was thinking because I’m so fat right now. The good news is, I’m just about 9 weeks which means I haven’t missed any really important dates to get tested. It also means that instead of worrying that I’m going to pop in the middle of spring finals, I have a few more weeks beyond the end of the next semester.
They took around 8 vials of blood, the most that has even been intentionally removed from my body, and I thought I was going to pass out. They’re going to test me for everything, and I’ll finally find out what my blood type is. I know I’m Rh negative, which means almost nothing to me except that I may have to get some sort of shot at some point, and my body might attack the peanut if its blood gets in my blood stream.
My next appointment was made 4 weeks from now. I will probably make an appointment with Mel’s doctor by then, though. It’s even closer than the hospital I’d have gone to. I just didn’t have any sort of connection with this other OB and I can’t imagine her being there, caring one whit about my pregnancy or concerns, for the next six or seven months. I realize that probably sounds sort of shitty, but this is not like someone who checks my throat for a white spot or looks in my crotch once a year, or even cleans my teeth. Except those are kinda big deals. It took me a long time to find a dentist I felt comfortable with, and I got really lucky. If I care that much about the person scraping my teeth, the person pulling a human being out of my vagina should be just important, right?