I had my 16 week appointment today even though I’m only 15 weeks 4 days. My first appointment with the midwife consisted of asking questions, getting my weight and listening to the Chicken. I didn’t even have to take my pants off which was thrilling after two years of infertility and finding myself pants-free at every single appointment. For some reason I assumed that the next few appointments would be like this and was shocked when the nurse instructed me to undress completely and then set out materials for a Pap and inquired on how often I do self breast exams (never, I know, shame on me).
After a quick lecture the midwife came in and started the exam – listen to heart and lungs, check lymph nodes, look for swelling in legs and feet, and then begin breast exam.
“You really need to do this monthly so pay attention,” she said. “Put your hands on your hips… good. Now put your hands behind your head… Good. Now I’m going to check your right breast…” After the right boob was thoroughly manhandled she moved into tackle the left. I don’t know if I jumped or if she twitched or what, but somehow her index finger ended up poking me square in the nipple, much like someone would press a doorbell.
We stopped dead in our tracks and stared at each other in disbelief that this actually just happened. After a few seconds of crickets we dissolved into giggles. Her face turned beet red as she apologized over and over saying that is not part of the exam and she did not mean to do that. I just sat there laughing hysterically and then looked at her with absolute seriousness and said “Ding Dong.”
More giggles ensued and I realized that I might actually be ok with this lady delivering my baby. A fist-pumping midwife with a sense of humor and the ability to laugh about uncomfortable things like boobs and accidental nipple pokes has got to be great in the delivery room, right?
Boobs aside, the appointment went well. She kindly pointed out that I have already gained too much weight (I blame holiday cookies and endless toast) and that I need to watch it. I assured her that we are working on eating better and that I’m striving to exercise 5 days a week. Hopefully that will help to slow the gain.
We also took some time to listen to the Chicken, who is thumping along beautifully. We went over my 12 week NT scan results which gave me a 1 in 10,000 chance of having Trisomy 21 or 18. This is the first time in my reproductive life that the odds are substantially in my favor. I’ll take it! And then she said something that I don’t think I’ll ever tire of – everything looks normal.
Holy shit, I’m normal. My baby is normal. My pregnancy is normal. I can’t tell you how much hope this simple statement gives me. In fact, it gave me so much peace that after my appointment I felt bold enough to order fabric to make the Chicken a quilt. The Professor and I picked the fabrics out last night and debated actually ordering while it was on temporary sale and I had a 10% off coupon.
After a funny appointment that ended in me being dubbed “normal” I figured what the hell, I’ll make the Chicken a quilt and if anything happens then it can be sold on Etsy and the profits used to purchase enough Pinot Noir and vegan date bars to prepare me for life as a childless woman.
But that won’t be happening and in 6 more months I’ll be spending my Pinot allowance on all the stuff that babies need that I’m in no way prepared to buy!