Yesterday, we went in for an OB appointment. I say 'we' even though the kid clearly has very little say in where he goes at this point, so for all he knew it was just another trip to the store. Pretty soon, mommy was gonna have some 'splainin to do.
As part of the appointment, we were scheduled for an ultrasound and a non stress test, or NST. An NST is a fantastic procedure where you sit in a chair with a couple of monitors strapped to your giant belly (Spherical yet pointy in parts) while the machine records baby's heart rate and your contractions (if any), and everyone comes in to look at you. Basically, you are like one of those giant tunas at a fish market, strapped to a slab, being checked out for your fat content. It's awesome!
Now, when your kid is uncooperative (go figure!) and isn't giving the kind of readings they want to see, things get fun. First, someone will come in and apologize before 'touching' your belly- i.e. poking it around a little (I can do that myself, thanks!). Then someone will shake it. Yes, shake it. Like a polaroid picture, to quote a little Andre 3000. Meh, says the kid. So they break out the taser.
To be fair, this is not actually a taser, but a device that produces some sort of 'auditory stimulation'. But seriously, it looks like a baby taser, and it had a similar effect. Luckily the nurse thought it was pretty funny when I actually said "Don't tase me, bro" before she put this little device to my belly and pressed the button.
Holy Pissed Off Baby, Batman! Let's just say there was some thrashing around before someone decided that what had just happened was not cool. Apparently the genes from my side of the family are alive and well in that boy, because 1) he has a temper and 2) he can hold a grudge. From this moment on, he became a sworn enemy of the heartrate monitor and began to literally attack it. Punching, kicking, etc. 'Well', said the nurse, 'at least that got his heart rate up where we wanted it'. For the next 15 minutes, the kid would systematically wage all out baby war on the monitor, even finding it if it had been moved to continue the pummelling. Most of the salvos actually hit their target, visibly moving the monitor.
Maybe we've got a future pro baseball pitcher on our hands.... as long as he can find more appropriate motivation than shocking stimulation that is.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Disabled? I don't think so.
And now a word on something that I seem to be in the minority on: My utter opposition to treating pregnant people like they have a disability. A special disability, that you can plan for, achieve, and that is ultimately rather fleeting.
I'm talking about the special parking...... and I realize that lots of you will disagree with me on this but, seriously? Did you not make a choice to be pregnant? Why yes, yes you did.
This stuff has bothered me for years; the pregnant lady parking, the 'with small children' parking, etc. If I have a dog, it is my responsibility to take care of him without relying on special treatment from society. If you have a kid, that doesn't mean that you should expect to command plush parking spaces. Sorry but I've always thought, and still do, that your kid is your responsibility, and part of that responsibility is to be conscious of possible negative impacts on others, not to expect special treatment.
As soon as I hit the third trimester, the room tech in the OB department was thrilled to tell me I now qualified for the (apparently much coveted) Third Trimester Parking Pass (or TTPP). She started to whip out one of these passes but before she could fill in the blanks, I ruined her morning by informing her that I did not want one, thanks. "What?" she asked, obviously thinking she hadn't heard me correctly. "You're eligible for one now." Great, I told her, but you can keep it. "I'm pregnant, I'm not disabled." She continued to try to talk me into taking the pass, and I continued to tell her no.
Here's the thing: I made a choice. A choice to get pregnant. This choice was well thought out, and is, ultimately, quite temporary. I do not think that I should be granted the special priviledge of being able to park at the front of the lot because of a deliberate action on my part, end of story. I've said these things before.... before I ever thought I would be pregnant. Some of my friends said things sort of like 'well, you'll change your mind if you ever are pregnant' and, funnily enough, I haven't. Sure, I walk a little slower, but if we start giving out parking passes for preggers, is it only a matter of time before we start giving out 'fat passes' too? I mean, it's hard for the obese to walk the extra distance to the store, often because of choices they made. My theory is that if you can walk yourself around the store, you can walk yourself up and down the parking lot too. Gasp, it might even be good for you to move around a little more.
Now, every time I go to an OB appointment, I am asked if I've changed my mind. Do I want the TTPP? They still can't believe it when I turn the thing down.
No, thanks, I'm fine.
I'm talking about the special parking...... and I realize that lots of you will disagree with me on this but, seriously? Did you not make a choice to be pregnant? Why yes, yes you did.
This stuff has bothered me for years; the pregnant lady parking, the 'with small children' parking, etc. If I have a dog, it is my responsibility to take care of him without relying on special treatment from society. If you have a kid, that doesn't mean that you should expect to command plush parking spaces. Sorry but I've always thought, and still do, that your kid is your responsibility, and part of that responsibility is to be conscious of possible negative impacts on others, not to expect special treatment.
As soon as I hit the third trimester, the room tech in the OB department was thrilled to tell me I now qualified for the (apparently much coveted) Third Trimester Parking Pass (or TTPP). She started to whip out one of these passes but before she could fill in the blanks, I ruined her morning by informing her that I did not want one, thanks. "What?" she asked, obviously thinking she hadn't heard me correctly. "You're eligible for one now." Great, I told her, but you can keep it. "I'm pregnant, I'm not disabled." She continued to try to talk me into taking the pass, and I continued to tell her no.
Here's the thing: I made a choice. A choice to get pregnant. This choice was well thought out, and is, ultimately, quite temporary. I do not think that I should be granted the special priviledge of being able to park at the front of the lot because of a deliberate action on my part, end of story. I've said these things before.... before I ever thought I would be pregnant. Some of my friends said things sort of like 'well, you'll change your mind if you ever are pregnant' and, funnily enough, I haven't. Sure, I walk a little slower, but if we start giving out parking passes for preggers, is it only a matter of time before we start giving out 'fat passes' too? I mean, it's hard for the obese to walk the extra distance to the store, often because of choices they made. My theory is that if you can walk yourself around the store, you can walk yourself up and down the parking lot too. Gasp, it might even be good for you to move around a little more.
Now, every time I go to an OB appointment, I am asked if I've changed my mind. Do I want the TTPP? They still can't believe it when I turn the thing down.
No, thanks, I'm fine.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
As the clock strikes 12.....
OK So, as soon as that third trimester showed up I have really started to feel like Cinderella's carriage at the stroke of 12..... yep, I am turning into a pumpkin all right.
First to go? Ankles. of course, it didn't help that I had been flying but I looked down one morning and found me some cankles. And damn, are they ugly! Disconcerting, too, especially when you are used to some sort of shape to your lower leg (other than that of a Pringles container, that is). So what to do? Suck down plenty of water, which will make you realize that your bladder is shrinking daily, but at least it will give you some definition back.
Just in time to go shopping for some comfy shoes. I had to go shopping for supportive, comfortable shoes. I also wanted some with some style, so that took a while..... luckily I had my new best friend with me.
That would be Tums. Tums are my new best friend... since on the stroke of ten my less-good friend Reflux decided to come for an extended visit. Tums and Reflux spend so much time talking with each other they forget you are in the room, and in this case it is quite lovely to be ignored. It's been a couple weeks now, so I am sad to admit that I have some flavors that I like more than others.
The pregnancy pillow is another one of my good friends, since I have a whole new appreciation for what it means to have a comfortable night's sleep. This really big, really ugly thing is the only thing standing between me and insomnia most nights.
Not to mention my growing resemblance to a pumpkin.... and I really am not so pleased with the deal that fairy godmother talked me into. Now, if it had just come with some housecleaning mice......
First to go? Ankles. of course, it didn't help that I had been flying but I looked down one morning and found me some cankles. And damn, are they ugly! Disconcerting, too, especially when you are used to some sort of shape to your lower leg (other than that of a Pringles container, that is). So what to do? Suck down plenty of water, which will make you realize that your bladder is shrinking daily, but at least it will give you some definition back.
Just in time to go shopping for some comfy shoes. I had to go shopping for supportive, comfortable shoes. I also wanted some with some style, so that took a while..... luckily I had my new best friend with me.
That would be Tums. Tums are my new best friend... since on the stroke of ten my less-good friend Reflux decided to come for an extended visit. Tums and Reflux spend so much time talking with each other they forget you are in the room, and in this case it is quite lovely to be ignored. It's been a couple weeks now, so I am sad to admit that I have some flavors that I like more than others.
The pregnancy pillow is another one of my good friends, since I have a whole new appreciation for what it means to have a comfortable night's sleep. This really big, really ugly thing is the only thing standing between me and insomnia most nights.
Not to mention my growing resemblance to a pumpkin.... and I really am not so pleased with the deal that fairy godmother talked me into. Now, if it had just come with some housecleaning mice......
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