Well, the baby is good.
I was ridiculously nervous this morning. I was relieved they didn't take my BP because I can only imagine what it would have been.
I had a fairly lengthy genetic counseling with what must have been the world's nicest counselor. She was one of those people you meet and think "I would like to be her friend." Even she commented several time, "I think we could talk all day!"
Took my blood, then sent me to wait for my u/s. Then came back and needed more blood because my insurance requires a different lab for the CF screening. She'd had to prick my finger twice for all the drops she needed, so this made a 3rd stick. She was really apologetic and kept expecting me to say no more. Good thing needles don't bother me.
Then she, the phlebotomist & I discussed which is worse- blood work or a 24 hour urine. I'm 100% that it's the 24 hour urine. My position is that if you told me I could choose between 1 blood draw a day for the rest of my pregnancy, or once a month 24 hour urine collection, I'd take the blood draws, no question.
Anyway, back out and then in for the u/s. I was so nervous that my hands were shaking by the time I got in there. I was just convinced it was going to be a still u/s. I told the (also very nice) u/s tech I was nervous and she was sympathetic. She must have looked at my chart because she didn't even question it, just said "well, considering your history, I understand." but honestly before I could ask her to show me the heartbeat right away, I could see the baby wiggling around. Definitely alive.
She measured CRL and said it was perfect, then looked at some other things before focusing on the nuchal fold. To me, it looked huge. I thought "shit, it's big. Okay. It's big. We'll deal. We can handle anything." She kept trying to get a measurement but couldn't quite get the angle she wanted. But eventually she said she got 2 and both were 1.2 so she thought that was good. She measured the heart rate- 170 bpm. Then left to get the peri in case he wanted to try for a different angle.
Yes, I said he. Dr. Bitchy is apparently on vacation for a month (seriously, I need a new job.) The bad news? The covering peri was Dr. Sunshine- the man I *HATED* when I was pregnant with Robbie. He was the "I'm the one that gets to pull the trigger" guy. The "you're not going to make it 12 hours" guy. The "well, at 26 weeks the baby has an 85% chance of living, but only a 68% chance of not having significant life-altering disabilities." Yeah. THAT guy.
As soon as he came in, I could feel my entire body tense. I'd started to relax a little when things looked good, but that all went by the wayside as soon as I saw him. He was genuinely nice. He was smiling and said he was happy with the scans she got and everything was normal. Then he asked when I should be seen again. I said no one had told me. He asked why I was there. I reminded him (while tripping over my words) that he had been.. uh.. "involved" in my son's delivery at 26 weeks because of preeclampsia.
He tried to give me the "oh, I thought your name sounded familiar" speech (yeah, right.) and then said I should come back in 4 weeks for a growth check. Then told me it was nice to see me again. I automatically responded "you, too." then internally called myself a nasty, nasty liar. NO IT WASN'T. Oh, and did I mention he rubbed my belly while talking to me? Seriously.
Anyway, I go out to check out and make my next appointment and it turns out I get to see him next time, too. Lucky, lucky me. I've decided this is an exercise in temper control and patience. At least this time I'm not terrified and confused. I'm prepared.
And then I was on my way. I officially told some people at work. And facebook. So it's official. I'm going to go forward under the assumption that all is well. (well, I'll try.) At least now I don't have to try to pretend my jeans still fit. It's all elastic from here.