changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003
ms_pooka

40 weeks coming up... let's go for 41!

“seven pounds? did you say seven pounds?!?”

the nurse was not my usual since dr culpepper had been unavailable for last thursday’s appointment and i had gone with dr bernstien instead.

“i can weigh you again.”

i stepped back on the scale and eyed it suspiciously. it wasn’t the same scale i normally use and i mentally subtracted pounds for that. i think the nurse might have also been a pound heavy with her math.

i sat down on the toilet running the numbers through my head. true... i was still suffering from some edema. but... seven pounds?!?!?

then i stopped the stream remembering there was no cup in there catching it. never mind that i had forgotten to follow the proper pee-in-a-cup method of pre-wiping. my mind had other tasks to work on.

in an uncharacteristic move, brian showed up after the heartbeat check and before the lengthy wait for the internal exam.

my anxiety was building and my butt sweating through the paper sheet as i pondered whether or not the probing would be as thorough as the week before. the slender, small, jewish dr bernstien entered the room with his mild manner and wispy hands. i believe he sensed my anxiety as he began the exam and explained he had no need to apply much pressure. why... it was a walk in the park! a breath of fresh springtime air!

as is his custom, dr bernstien ran his laundry list of information to make sure i was up to snuff before relinquishing us to our dinner at mint where i decided i could consume an entree instead of just an appetizer after being reassured that there was no way i had gained seven pounds calorically.

today, i stepped back up on my usual scale to learn i had “lost four pounds”. mmhmmm. someone needs to recalibrate somewhere. either that, or i peed a whole lot between appointments. it’s a cruel thing to tell a 40-week pregnant woman that she’s gained seven pounds in a week. cruel.

dr culpepper’s exam was a little less intense and revealed that tuesday night’s four hour baby-flopping escapade had not dislodged his head from the birth canal and, if anything, had caused his head to drop quite a bit. i fancy he was searching for the nearest exit. especially considering his hand was by his head when she checked his position. we’re still at one centimeter and a –2 station (whatever that means) and likely to fly by sunday’s due date and right into our three day weekend. more time to clean! and pretend there’s not a baby on the way!
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