Anyway, back to yesterday. I am really trying to take it easy but felt it would be okay to meet two friends for lunch. My mother-in-law came over to watch My Girl and I left a couple hours in advance of my doctor's appointment. It was nice to have a meal with adult conversation without having to entertain, cut chicken fingers or make frequent trips to the restroom on the heels of the words, "I go potty poop".
In fact, I planned my time so well, I arrived about 1/2 hour early for my appointment. I had my book club book with me and was looking forward to "free-time" to just sit, relax and read.
I entered the office and checked in with the receptionist. I informed her that I had a scare on Saturday night with some contractions, bad weather, no child care and this panicked feeling that I would need to call an ambulance as Hubby would have to stay home with Our Girl and I most certainly couldn't drive myself, and therefore, for peace of mind, would like a copy of my chart as my local rescue organization is not going to drive me to a hospital almost an hour away when there are two, no three within a few minutes from my house. She informed me in her usual tone that my local hospital affiliated with the same health care system will not deliver me. I snipped back that I cannot labor and the worst case scenario would be that oh, yes the would have to deliver me and I'd like my chart on the off-chance this happened. She was non-committal, saying I'd have to speak with the doctor or nurse about it.
I decided not to argue and went to my usual seat in the waiting room, almost right in front of the desk and most certainly within ear-shot. The phone rang and her voice lowered and well, you know that feeling you have when you think some one's talking about you, well I had it. My first thought was that the doc was in the back of the office and that he heard me talking and called up to find out was going on. I decided to brush it off, I mean how paranoid can I be. And who really cares if they're talking about me. So I headed off to leave my routine urine sample.
When I came out of the restroom, I learned that my instinct was correct, I was the subject of this "secret" conversation. The receptionist informed me that Dr. G was running late as he had a "procedure" to do. He wanted her to call me and let me know he needed to push my appointment back. Well, here I was, 1/2 hour early for my 2:30. Having had lunch out and rush hour traffic not too far off, I really didn't feel like hanging around that long for I knew my symptoms of overdoing it would soon surface. Not to mention my book would be finished in no time and I hate to be idle.
Since I was just evaluated by Dr. Davis on Monday, I reasoned with myself in a matter of seconds that I could forgo the cervical exam. The main reason I was there was really to get my amniotic fluid level checked. I made my proposal: if the nurse is able to give me my progesterone shot and check my amniotic fluid level, I can skip my appointment with the doctor altogether. Well, I opened another can of worms by suggesting my fluid level be checked. After the perplexed look I received, I volunteered that I had visited my other doc, the doc who placed my stitch, and that because I was having contractions, I was thoroughly evaluated. My fluid level was low and after my week-long drinking binge, I was to have it rechecked.
Long story short, the nurse was able to do all of the above and even managed a quick weight check (oh gosh!) and a blood pressure reading as well. I sensed that I had overstepped by visiting Dr. Davis as she defensively inquired why they would check my fluid levels. Must I explain this again?
My fluid supposedly measured 15 but I really question the methodology used to obtain the measurement. I am not a doctor, nor am I a nurse or an ultrasounographer (although many of My Girl's physicians ask me what medical training I have) so I can't say for certain, but my hunch was that when she didn't know which buttons to press on the machine, my measurement might not be totally accurate. Based on my observations, reading and research, I would have taken measurements from different starting points too, again leading to questionable accuracy. But again, this is just my opinion and you know what they say about opinions...
I will keep sucking down the water and wait things out until Tuesday when I follow up with Dr. Davis again. I am feeling tons of movements from Baby Boy and apparently when there is dangerously low fluid, movements are very difficult to detect. His nudges, flips and kicks are very reassuring to me.
On another note, my glucose screen came back normal.
So, I didn't have a full appointment yesterday, which was probably a good thing. I am really not in the mood to defend myself as it will just get me worked up and that is not something my body needs nor does my baby's.
Finally, in my heightened emotional state, I couldn't help but wonder what "procedure" the doctor was detained with. My wandering mind settled upon the idea that there was a woman out there receiving at that very moment, a rescue transvaginal cerclage. My heart ached for her and her baby and the horrible thoughts that were most certainly dancing though her mind about the safety and well being of her unborn baby. It is moments like these (real or imagined) that I am really, really thankful for my Transabdominal Cerclage (TAC), for Dr. Davis and for my own desire to pursue something my heart was telling me was absolutely necessary in spite of other doctors telling me I was crazy.
Hubby and I were in awe of my reaching 28 weeks and my growing bump (dare I share these photos of my most pregnant tummy to date?). We both acknowledged that without my TAC, Baby Boy wouldn't have had a fighting chance. And he has this fighting chance thanks to his brave, strong and determined big sister who endured her own undeserved hell to help her sibling.
Hubby's view of his children at 28 weeks gestation:
Baby Boy 12/11/08
Our Girl 8/17/06
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