My first OB appointment lasted 2 hours. Some of it was gathering height, weight, blood, urine, etc., but most of it was a long talk about my medical history and my knowledge of my family background history coupled with a pelvic exam during which I had a model of a human pelvis in hand and we could discuss how I'm personally put together and what bearing my particular genetic hand of cards may have on the pregnancy. VERY informant. Short answer, I'm healthy. A little narrower front-to-back than the absolute ideal, but that's not something that should create a serious risk situation for me. I'm still a good candidate for birthcenter birth.
We also had a discussion of what my breast construction might or might not mean for actually using them as nature intended, again the answer is, I should be ok, but if my bustline explodes I may have trouble. Not that you can do anything about that. It just happens and you live with it. Then she showed me my cervix, which no other doctor had ever bothered to do, and then we found the baby's heart beat -- which I totally had not expected we could do so soon and is REALLY cool. Hey, no kidding, I've got a parasite. I mean I knew that, but there IS something about having it confirmedin a way you can see or hear that's VERY interesting.
Another thing -- when you're actually pregnant, those pictures on the doc/midwife's wall of what a baby looks like at each stage become fascinating. Not so much because it's a picture of a little wiggler. Damn, we've all seen a pic of an embryo - yawn -- as because the picture is, get this, to SCALE. Why does that matter?
Dude, I don't have fat pants on or anything close to it yet, and that damn thing is HUGE! Excuse me, how is there room in there for all that, please? I want to know?? It's gonna become gigantic before I actually need new clothes. Anyhow, all is well. It's just very strange. Very, very very strange.
Oh, and for any of you who expect me to treat this as anything but a bizarre science experiment that happens to involve self experimentation, sorry, there's lots that's cool about this, but aint nothin' mushy. It's not a baby or a person yet. Get real. My dog is smarter and more self aware and will be even after Shorty actually starts breathing air, not placental gook (or whatever in utero babies do) so my sense of reality is just not there. At this point, little dude is a parasite. It's welcome and all that. But it's an it. And if I ever get all tremulous and mushy about the idea of "my son" or "my daughter" before it shows up and starts being an external person in the world, just shoot me. I'll be happy to find out who the kid is when it arrives. Fantasizing about its personality or future moments just seems idiotic. I plan. I think. I live in the now where the next few steps all make sense. Anything else seems ludicrous to me. Sorry if I don't live up to expectations of what pregnant women are supposed to feel or think about. I may make a lousy "girl" but I'm a happier, better adjusted human being than I would be if I did what people expect of me. Frankly, I think all those expectations are just shit.
K.Posted by karen at April 7, 2002 12:00 AM