Today I had a Dr's appointment. Up until now my Dr's appointments have lasted all of about 10 minutes. I check in, get weighed, get my blood pressure taken, get measured, listen to the baby's heartbeat, and then sit there, FULLY CLOTHED, while they ask me how I feel and if I have any questions. Then Back Seat Girl gets stickers, and we're on our merry way.
Today, however, was different. First of all, I haven't been allowed to eat the metric ton of food I normally eat in the morning in order to not feel like complete crap by 11. I had an egg. One measly egg. I tried not to drool as Back Seat Girl drank her milk and enjoyed her breakfast of mini-wheats, bagel and cream cheese, and blueberries (she is a BIG breakfast eater). I just looked away and did dishes and drank a cup of tea.
At nine Back Seat Girl and I showed up to the lab at my clinic, where I received a nice, large cup of orange crap to drink. The rule is you have to finish it in 5 minutes. Since I'd only had an egg and tea all morning (I failed it last time after not eating, um, responsibly before-hand and had to endure a horrible 3 hour glucose tolerance test that made me very ill), I was already feeling a little queasy. While I was drinking, I had to forcibly make myself not vomit, because I knew I'd have to start all over if I heaved. I could not possibly drink any more of that horrible stuff than I had to. I have no idea why that stuff makes me so sick, but it always does.
After I managed to drink the crap, Back Seat Girl and I went upstairs for my appointment. This appointment consisted of me having to take off my pants and get "checked" to make sure there was no early labor starting. Also, while I was sitting on the table with the see-through "sheet" I got asked a ton of questions I wasn't prepared for. The first one was my favorite: How do you feel about labor? Um, it sucks. I would rather not do it. How is one supposed to answer that question? There were questions about epsiotomies, people in the delivery room, circumcision, drugs, the whole nine yards. I'll be 26 weeks pregnant tomorrow. The room that is supposed to be the baby's is still full of all of the crap I've been throwing in there since we moved into this house almost 4 years ago. Also, she put a nice warning on my chart about tending to have quick labors. I've been trying not to think about giving birth in the wagon, but that made it seem like a real possibility.
So, after all of that pleasantness, I got to put my pants back on and walk out into the hallway, where Back Seat Girl was surrounded by no less than 5 woman, fawning all over her, giving her stickers, and telling her how cute she was. She was having a great time.
Back downstairs to the lab, where I was told I had 28 minutes to wait. In the waiting room. With a 2 year old. Did I mention this waiting room was full of older people? It was. So, we read a book, ate graham crackers (I actually spit one out when I remembered I was supposed to not be eating anything), looked at the fishies in the pediatrician's office, read another book, and played with my car keys. Then, Back Seat Girl decided she was going to announce to me she was "looking at somebody". No one was paying any attention to her. I had no idea who she was talking about. Then, she said "I shy of people". While she was saying this, she was standing in front of a chair, leaning back on it so her tummy was showing, and grinning from ear to ear. She repeated this a few more times, and a woman across the waiting room started laughing. After asking me how old Back Seat Girl was, she said "She doesn't seem too shy to me!" When Back Seat Girl grew tired of pretending to be shy, she decided to take her sandal off. When that didn't satisfy her boredom, she took my sandal off. And this is when, of course, they call my name. So, I put my shoe on, threw Back Seat Girl's shoe in the diaper bag, and carried her one-shoed little self into the little room where they draw the blood. This meant, of course, she had to walk back out into the waiting room with just one shoe on since she didn't want me to pick her up and had to "do it myself".
After re-shoeing her naked little foot, we went back upstairs where I got a painful shot of Rhogam in my posterior, just in case I had a little bit of dignity left. By this time I've only had an egg, a cup of tea, and a brimming cup of orange crap to eat. I had woken up at 6:30 and it was 10:30. Maybe for some people (Paris Hilton), this would have been enough for a whole day. Not for me. I was queasy and starving, and my butt hurt, and there was about a yard of tape on my arm where they had drawn my blood, just to make sure they got some of the hairy part of my arm in there. Some day, little Baby Boy will realize what I did for him, but until that day, he, just like his sister now, will assume I am here to feed him, play with him, bath him, wipe his butt, amuse him, and basically exist for his all-around comfort and enjoyment. I guess that's just part of the circle of life.