Our Fabulous Day

7/17/2003

Our Thursday morning Dr. McMillan appointment started at 8:00 like it always does. That went well. Wendi hadn’t gained any weight, her blood pressure was down and her urine wasn’t showing any protein. The doctor also told us that the baby was doing fine; actually on the large side (nearly 6 pounds) and that the plan was still to induce a week early. That is, if Mother Nature didn’t beat us to the punch. As it stood, Xander was now considered a full term baby and could deliver anytime. We got a 2:00 time for our “let’s just be on the safe side” sonogram. (Also called an ultrasound.)

Immediately after the appointment, Wendi got her stress test which is where they hook up a fetal heart monitor to the belly (the pregnant woman’s belly, that is) and the heart rate is monitored while the woman hits a clicker whenever she feels the baby kick. The idea is that the heart rates should go up as the activity level goes up. Everything so far, so good but it was another hour down the tubes.

At 1:45, we show up for our sonogram and, despite our hopes of seeing whether lil’ Xander’s got my Mom’s freakish thumbs or Wendi’s dark, brown hair, we basically just saw a whole bunch of blobs again. However, the technician seemed quite satisfied with what she saw. But she had to send the results to Dr. McMillian upstairs. That she did whilst I tried to wipe Wendi’s stomach clear of the all the goo used to make a good contact.

When techie comes back, she tells us that the doctor would like us to stop by upstairs. No biggie. However, when we saw Doctor’s Assistant Julie pushing a wheelchair down the hall towards us. “Oh shit, we’re just not going to get those Pooh stickers up….” But it seems they just wanted Wendi to go through another series of stress tests at the Woman and Children’s Clinic on the other side of the building.  This is where we’ll be delivering at some time in the future.

We were there for a one hour stress test and then another hour one after that. While the facility is very nice, it was still not the most exciting way to spend an afternoon. In fact, it was boring as hell. What makes it worse is that we didn’t bring Wendi’s “Busy Bag” full of stuff we can work on when the mood strikes us. We were only going to be 45 minutes!

While I was checking in and getting my visitor pass (they take security VERY seriously here) a young woman was checking in. When asked, she said her DOB was 1982.

God, I’m old….

At about quarter past 5, we stumbled out of there: the Pregnant One hungry as hell and demanding lobster. That’s when you got the call. It would have been nice to share these adventures with someone. No doubt, you were reading your 43rd teacher training book of the summer. Or pulling out stumps with your bare hands in the back yard. Something productive. It’s too bad because you could have seen a small round woman eat nearly her weight in shellfish. Something everyone should see at least once in their lifetime.

Well, this little episode really put the Fear of God into us. (Though we had plenty of that already.) Tomorrow, it’s all about the Baby Room, the Take to the Hospital Bag, tracking down the glider (rockers are so 20th Century!) just getting serious! Unfortunately, I am obviously inept to do any shopping for things like gliders or curtains. Tina’s over in Winthrop and Wendi’s down for the count. (She actually asked the doctor if shopping was okay if I “pushed her around in a cart”.  Dr. McMillan was having NONE of that, thank you.)

So she and I will get done what we can before The Time Comes. Tomorrow, it’s over to Seattle for me to get about 3 month’s worth of hay. (Laugh if you must…)

That reminds me. The bun sitter is all lined up. Trina might not be around if we deliver early. Consider yourself on standby. (That is, pretty please.)

Sigh, I’ve recorded our harrowing adventures and will keep a copy for posterity. Hope this is of interest to you as, well, you might be in the same predicament.

Don’t be shy about staying in contact. Watching the woman try to rise off the couch is quite entertaining in itself.

Speaking of which, best go see to her needs.

Adios.

B.