During my weekly pre-natal appointment, I couldn’t help but think about what a shame it is that this practice met me at this point of my pregnancy. I’m definitely not myself. I’m at the end of this roller-coaster ride. Ready for it to be over. Ready to get off and not ride again until I eat an ice-cream cone, take a bathroom break, lounge around, people watch and well, just breathe for a moment. With 15 days left, even I know that my mood isn’t always chipper when I’m asked the age old question, “How are you feeling?”
I give half smiles. I tilt my head a lot. Squint my eyebrows. I say, “HA!” quite often and that is why I wish the men & women in this practice could have been on the whole ride with me. To see that I’m usually not like this. I’m usually bubbly and chipper and positive. Yesterday, my poor nurse (and many others) got an earful. The conversation went a little like this:
Nurse- “Hi!!! *big smile* How are you feeling? You look great!”
Me- “HA! Like a cow. And like my belly-button is going to explode. Has that ever happened?”
Nurse- Giggling “NO!” and walking (faster than me) to the scale. She stood by it (waiting for me to make my way back there).
Me- *still walking* “I’m not getting on the scale today. Seriously. I have 10 pounds of poop in me because you put me on a triple dose of IRON + my prenatal vitamins and now I’m completely constipated.”
That just flew out of my mouth without me even thinking about what it sounded like to everyone around me. I mean, I’m sure my nurse hears a lot of ‘details’ from women day in and day out… And I’m sure she wasn’t phased by my constipation complaint. However, we weren’t even in a private room at this point. We were walking. People were around. Patients. Dads. (I’ll get to that.) Teenagers. Administrative people. And then there’s me- the 9 mo prego mama waddling her butt down the hallway loudly sharing my issue as if I were answering the question, “How’s the weather?”
Nurse- “Awe. *chuckle* I’m so sorry.” She proceeded to tell me some home remedies, meds, foods, drinks, etc. “Not much longer! Other than that, are you feeling good?”
Me- And it was at that moment that this photo came to mind…
And I smiled, giving her my usual 38 weeks pregnant answer, “Yep! Doing great! Feeling good! Ready! We’re excited!” She typed for a second on the computer, we exchanged a few words, argued over what day of the week it was (I was right… FRIDAY) and shortly after she left, the Doctor came in. We listened to the baby’s heartbeat… 130… I call BOY! And then she put both hands on the sides of my belly, then one on the top and one on the bottom. She kind of pushed around my whole belly and guessed that the baby will be in the low 7′s. Hmph. I told her I’d take a 10 pounder just to lose that right off the bat! She laughed. 7′s is fine too!
When my appointment was over, I made my way to the waiting room where there were 2 dads with their teenage daughters waiting. I have to tell you, EVERY SINGLE TIME I go to my prenatal apt., there are dads with teenage daughters in the waiting room. And every single time, I have different thoughts about this. Is mom working? Single dad? Maybe mom passed away? Schedule mix up?… So many things race through my mind because well, I’ve never seen a dad take his daughter to the Gyne. I certainly wouldn’t want my dad taking me there. But today, as I looked at the dads in the waiting room, I smiled and thought,
“ROCK ON DADS!”
I don’t know why I always like to know the scoop though. I smiled at one of them but he didn’t smile back. He was nervous; I could tell. And do you blame him? That was probably stressful for him! And Lord only knows what his daughter was feeling. I smiled at one of the teenage girls too.
Anyway, we are down to 1, maybe 2 more prenatal appointments and then it’s BABY DAY! Oh how I wish this baby would come early. Why can’t I be one of those moms? Its not gonna happen. Here’s where I stand at 38 weeks. My triple dose of Iron is killing me, my boobs have outgrown every lacey Victoria’s Secret bra I own, my cheeks feel like they have 2 gigantic marshmallows in them and my belly button very well might explode. Seriously. Let’s do this babe…
Mama. is. R-E-A-D-Y.