Confessions of a piggy foot

Being pregnant is one of the most awesome things I've done in my life.  How many times can I say I've been blessed enough to incubate another person - to have such an active role in the development of another being??  It's truly a miraculous thing when I stop to consider it.  Every little kick or punch is a sign of life - reminding me that while my belly is swollen (along with my hands, feet...), I have the best reason in the world for this new (and hopefully temporary) look.  A new human being is preparing to join the outside world and my hubby and I are going to be in charge of showing him the ropes.  There's a lot of things that are still unknown as to how all this will play out, BUT I feel pretty safe in saying that holding our little man in our arms, being a parent - will be totally worth it....

Having said all that...  a momentous day has come to pass for me.  When I was earlier along, I wanted to laugh whenever any of my dear friends and family members would mention this idea of getting tired of being pregnant.  I couldn't help but dwell on how thankful I should be for having such a normal, healthy pregnancy.  Plus, we'd been waiting for his arrival for the past few years, so who would I be to look a gift horse in the mouth?

However, on Thursday, as I sat in an examination room at the doctor's office for what seemed like the 300,000th time this year, staring at the painting in front of me - yearning to dust the frame, wishing for one of those cardboard fans they hand out at revivals so I wouldn't continue to swelter, analyzing every new sensation as a possible early sign of labor...  it struck me.  I'm tired of being pregnant.  It's not quite as apparent in the world outside the doctor's office, where they actually realize that my baby could come at any time, but when I'm confined to that building for any length of time (which is a given when I actually see the doc), the routine nature of it all is just too much.

The wait this time wasn't nearly as long - I believe I sat in the waiting room for 15-20 minutes before being called back and was promptly lead to an exam room after the routine checks, where I waited another 25 or so - but it felt like FOREVER. I'd find myself listening intently to the sound of the other doors on the hall and the greeting that normally followed - trying to figure out how much long I was going to be kept in my cell - alone.  Then the doc came in - got my tummy measurement and found Coop's heart beat fairly quickly.  I had no questions, so that was pretty well it as all test results and measurements were perfect.  Of course as we started to leave the room - I did ask about the third ultrasound, which my hubby has been waiting for...  but was sadly informed that since there were no concerns about the growth or position of the baby, there would BE no third ultrasound.  Now I could dwell on the fact that I had to pay for the first one, so insurance would cover the next two (the way it was described to me), but I won't.  I'll try to take the 'man' mindset and be satisfied with the fact that he'll be joining us soon.  Hmm, still irked.

Anyway, I went to set up my next appointment.  There was already a young pregnant woman ahead of me, who was directly told that she did know that Medicaid wouldn't cover the 3-D Ultrasound and that it would be $125 in cash to have it done.  The woman agreed and the appointment was scheduled.  Now this snippet of conversation was totally none of my business and I know nothing of this particular woman's situation, BUT in light of the proposed health care reform (which I was furiously writing about in my journal prior to called back), I found myself a bit annoyed.  We as a people work to provide government assistance for people like this woman, who have in some way demonstrated a need for it, leaving her to do with her money what she chooses.  Sure, it's a lot more touching to spend $125 on pictures of your unborn child than it is to spend on video games, booze, etc., but it is still elective.  She has every right to do what she chooses with her money, but as someone with a vested interest in her welfare, I can't help but wonder if there aren't other more pressing things that she has a NEED for that she could use that $125 towards. 

Once she had been seen to, the lady behind the counter began to look at the doc's schedule to set up my next weekly appointment.  Then she asked when my due date was.  I told her October 7th to which she responded - "Oh well, you have some time left then, don't you?"  As I do my utmost to be polite whenever possible, I just smiled as nothing sweet to reply came to mind.  She went on to ask if I would mind seeing the nurse practitioner to which I replied that I wouldn't mind - and then asked if I had ever seen her before.  I tried to remain calm despite feeling completely incredulous.  I realize that she works with numerous women in the course of a day and just multiply that by five, but I'd JUST seen the nurse last week (and a couple weeks before that) and she'd been the one to do the scheduling....  Yes, I realize this is my being short, but as I said before, I'm tired of being pregnant.  I'm tired of having to schedule ANY appointments when I'd almost do just as well to record these things myself and hand it to them when the time was right - then I wouldn't have to use ANY leave time.

As you've probably deduced, I was just a tickin' when I left the doctor's office, but despite the MADDENING routine nature of it all, I, with the help of my maternal colleagues, was able to come up with a diagnosis of 'I-am-ready-to-have-this-baby-out-of-my-belly-and-into-my-arms-regardless-of-the-lack-of-sleep-I-will-surely-be-in-for'.  The exact symptoms of this condition are a bit difficult to pinpoint, but viewed as a whole, it's quite obvious.  The main issue with said condition is that there doesn't appear to be much that can be done about it - just let nature take its course, but let me tell you...  I'll be leading the chants and cheers all the way...  Well, at least, until I am incapable of putting together coherent sentences or the pain meds take the edge off...  but who knows how long THAT will be....