A Few More Things

I meant to write a brief note about last week's doctor appointment. Things started out same as always--get a weight (ugh!), pee in a cup, get blood pressure checked, have doctor look at grossly swollen feet. Then she had me on the bed, tummy covered with gel, ready to hear the heartbeat. But she couldn't get one. She rubbed the little microphone-thing around a while before declaring that the batteries were dead. So she got new ones and tried again. But again, nothing. And, granted, this lasted a whole two minutes, but it quickly became unnerving for me. I was trying to remember if I had felt BC move around that morning (I hadn't). I stayed calm, but I began mentally preparing to be rushed over to the hospital.

Again, this whole process lasted only about two minutes, but I realized just how frightened I could get about this tiny person I haven't even met yet. But eventually there was a heartbeat (150s) and all was fine in the world. When I called Papa Clay later and retold the story, he let me know how glad he was that he hadn't been there, that he would have freaked out. And I nodded and said, "I know baby." Because I did know. That man would not have handled it well.