Ah, pregnancy.
So, Sunday night, I managed to make a trip to the hospital. Now, I feel a little silly, but at the time, I was about freaked out.
Sunday morning, I woke up and Nolan wasn't nearly as active as he usually is. In fact, most of the day Sunday, I only felt him move about 3 times. By supper time, I wasn't feeling him move at *all*.
So I, of course, tried to get him moving. I drank a bunch of water. Nothing
I drank a bunch of Pepsi. Nothing.
I poked him a few times. Nothing.
Now, humans are supposed to be rational, thinking beings. I try very hard to go about things in a logical manner that is well-thought out. Pregnancy messes with the rationality meter. On one hand, you have reason. On the other, paranoia. Reason tells me that yes, I'm getting up there in gestation. Babies are *supposed* to slow down at this age, there's simply not all that much room in there for them to move around. However, they *are* supposed to move at least some. So the paranoia starts to build. Think of a teeter-totter. Eventually, you reach a point where the paranoia overbalances reason, and that's the end of all logical thought, at least for someone who's eight months pregnant. Reason gets flung off the teeter totter like a rainbow.
Over the past few days, I have noticed a numb spot around my navel. Being the rational person I am, I naturally thought to ask my Doctor about it at my next checkup, which would be on January 13. I'm not the type to call for any little question, and in this case, I wouldn't have been able to call anyway, since my Doctor was on vacation, due to be back in the office January 10. At any rate, it did not cross my mind to equate my little numb spot with not being able to feel my baby move at all.
But that darn Paranoia. It made me call the hospital to make sure I shouldn't come in and get checked out in Labor and Delivery. BAD PARANOIA! The nurse at the hospital did what any good nurse would do, which was to advise me that yes, I should come in, just for a little while to have the fetal monitor put on just to make sure he's still doing ok. The on-call doctor was consulted over the phone, and since that nifty monitor was showing little Nolan's thumpthumpthumpthump hearbeat, showed him just bopping around in there, moving and squirming, and even showed a couple of Braxton-Hicks contractions, that I should go home, and get in to my regular Doctor Monday morning. Which just so happened to be her first day back from vacation.
Did I forget to mention that I felt *none* of the above? No movement, no contractions. Nothing. And that tiny little numb spot? It had blossomed into most of my belly. Couldn't feel a thing. Poking me in the tummy was like poking a pillow. No sensation at all. The nurse supposed that I have a pinched nerve somewhere. Honestly, it felt like I'd gotten a nerve block. Just like your mouth feels after you've been to the dentist and they numb you up with novacaine.
So I went home, still feeling nothing. Slept (ok, tried to sleep) feeling nothing. Finally, about 6am Monday morning, I felt the teeniest of kicks. Talk about relief! That one kick turned into several, and by 8am, I was feeling him pretty much normally - around the edges. The front of my belly was still numb, and I couldn't feel him move in front, only the sides. So at 9, I dutifully called my Doctor's office and asked if there were any appointments open. The receptionist told me that they were really busy, but they could squeeze me in at 11:10. WOW! GREAT! Just like that, and I had an appointment.
Now, I work for a doctor. We take care of animals, not people, but it's basically the same type of thing, scheduling appointments, and managing the doctor's time for him. I know what happens when Dr. Hughbanks gets back from vacation. It's a bit hectic. The schedule is always full, and we really have to juggle emergencies with people who've had their appointments already scheduled a couple of weeks in advance. So I understand a busy schedule. Yes, this is going somewhere...bear with me.
I got to the Dr.'s office about 15 minutes early. I wanted to make sure that I didn't make her wait for me, because I knew she'd probably be a little crunched for time. I figured I'd have to wait the 15 minutes until my appointment, and figured maybe even 15-20 extra minutes because of the busy schedule. But no, an hour goes by. I was the only person in the waiting room when I arrived. Several people came in after me and were quickly seen. Even two new clients came in, filled out 30 minutes of paperwork, and were seen before I finally got up to ask the receptionist if she knew how long the wait would be. She gave me a blank look, and told me that since my file wasn't out on the counter, the nurse must have come to get it and would be out shortly to get me.
15 minutes later, the nurse finally comes to get me and we do the whole normal routine. The depressing weigh-the-pregnant-woman thing, the pee-in-a-cup thing, and the measure-the-belly thing. She left me in the exam room, and came back about 5 minutes later to grab a little blood for an iron test. Said the Doctor would be in shortly.
So now I've been there about an hour and twenty minutes. And I sit there. And sit there, and sit there. Finally, a total of about 2 hours had passed. All the stress of the night before, added to the long wait, my sheepishness for going in to the hospital when my baby was absolutely fine, and a growing sense that I was really out of place in the doctor's schedule, finally caught up with me. I just started to cry and couldn't stop. And I just walked out of the exam room, told the nurse I had to go, and left the office. I figured I'd just keep my regular appointment on the 13th, and call it good. After all, I coud feel Nolan now, so I knew that he was ok. It's just the mother that's freaked (and numb)
Wow, this is getting long.
Anyway. I left the office, got in my car and called Jerry. Bawling my eyes out, and told him what had happened. Of course, husbands are programmed to be upset when their wives cry. It's genetic, or instinctual, or something like that. They have no control over it, any more than I had control over my numb belly. I met him at work, went into more sobbing, blubbery detail, and he immediately got on the phone with the Dr's office, wanting to find out what went on, and why I never got to see the Dr after 2 hours of waiting.
The nurse was a little snippy with him, basically telling him that what did we expect, on the Dr's first day back with a double booked schedule, where we were a short-notice appointment? WHAT???!!! No one had *ever* mentioned that kind of scheduling conflict. The receptionist just said that they were busy, not that they were so busy they absolutely didn't have time for anything! Like I mentioned, I understand doctor's schedules. I would have been perfectly OK with them telling the Dr. what my situation was, and offering to let the Dr decide if it was important that I get in right away. We do that for clients on a regular basis, schedule a phone consult, or explain to the doctor what their problem is and get back to them with a reccomendation. The on-call doctor that handled my hospital stay told me to make an appointment, so that's what I did.
At any rate, I thought Jerry was quite polite after being basically told that we and our baby were very unimportant in the grand scheme of things. He got off the phone and fumed. About 5 minutes later, the Dr herself called him and basically said the same thing!!! Now, I can imagine that if I'd waited a half hour and left upset, but that was not the case. 2 hours! 2 Hours! I wouldn't even have minded that if someone had just told me what kind of schedule mess they had. Jerry finally got so exasperated that he finally asked her what was going to happen when I was having the baby, would I just have to wait?
We actually called a few other doctors, to see if we could get in to see them, Jerry doesn't want me to go back to Dr. Johnson at all, but at 36 weeks of pregnancy, it's darn near impossible to switch doctors. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening having bouts of sobbing. And I mean every 10 minutes. I simply couldn't control it. Even until after 10 that night. I layed in bed and cried. I organized the baby's room and cried. I ate dinner and cried. I didn't cry when our new baby carrier/carseat arrived, but I did cry when I discovered the extra car base we ordered was the wrong one and didn't fit our carrier.
Goodness, I'm writing a novel!
At any rate, later that afternoon, Dr. Johnson called and left a message on my voicemail apologising. Apparently, the receptionist hadn't told anyone that she'd booked the schedule so badly, and then, when I arrived for my appointment (silly me, assume an appointment means an appointment) she hadn't even pulled my file to put in the queue to see the doctor. Finally, when I went and asked how long it would be, she realized she had done that, and got me in, but by that time, the Dr was busy with the new clients, which always take a bit longer, for the initial office visit. I, of course, was still sobbing at that point, and didn't answer the phone when I saw who was calling.
SO, we're still upset, but I'm mollified enough that I'll go back to her for the rest of the pregnancy. It's only a month, right? To her credit, she called me *again* at work on Tuesday, to make sure I got her message. And then proceeds to tell me I'll need a blood test. Riiiiggghhhtt. That's a good way to get me in to the office. I am terrible with needles. When they're coming at me.
At any rate, we'll see what happens. Jerry is refusing to go to any more appointments with me, saying he can't be civil. Which really disappoints me. Jerry's wanted to be involved in all my apointments, and now he's not going to do that. It bums me out more than I can say.