I had my second appointment with the midwife today. We went to the market first and as I picked up a punnet of strawberries, it leaked onto the white dress I was wearing. That dress has been a magnet for such disaster lately. “Because it’s white,” Lucas says. But of course. At least we’d given ourselves enough time to pick up the groceries and head to the doctor’s, so I was able to head to the bathroom at the clinic to try to avert any permanent staining.
We’ve only been to the clinic a couple of times, once to see the doctor (the mostly useless appointment) and multiple other times to register at the clinic and to make appointments. The first time I set foot in there, I commented that it reminded me of the hospital setting in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I still think that. The grates on the window, the wooden seating in the waiting room, the glass window blocking off the reception, the locked wooden bulletin board and font on some of the signs all scream 1960s hospital. Being alone in the very quiet, also ancient-looking bathroom creeped me out a little, so I cleaned my dress off as quickly and thoroughly as I could, gave a urine sample and got out of there as fast as I could. Because we’d given ourselves ample time and because clinics are always running behind, there was a fair bit of waiting. I watched other pregnant women waiting for their turn with the midwife or doctor and wondered how far along they were. One pregnant woman came with her partner and whom I assume to be her mother. Her mother, who looked at least in her fifties, was in a purple velour tracksuit. I decided that no one looks good in a velour tracksuit, no matter their age or gender. While I was busy people-watching, Raspberry entertained herself reading from a thick brochure all about pregnancy. She declared that swimming was a good idea for pregnant women as it’ll make them feel good (lifted from the brochure, of course). She got bored with all that waiting and even the notepad and pencils she brought couldn’t keep her interest. At it turned out, I was the last patient of the morning for the midwife and while it seemed like en eternity waiting, we finally got into the room only fifteen minutes late.
It was Lucas’ first time meeting the midwife and he thought she was nice, but that she was too caught up in all the paperwork. Everything is written in this binder that I have to haul with me to every prenatal appointment. You’d think that there’d be computerized records but I guess the system’s a little (or a lot) behind. We got to hear the baby’s heartbeat through the fetal Doppler for the first time — a healthy 148 beats per minute. I was quite impressed that the midwife could locate the placenta with the Doppler — you can hear the maternal blood-flow through it. Raspberry seemed briefly fascinated by the baby’s heartbeat. I’ve noticed that when people talk to Raspberry about the baby, they always refer to it as “your baby,” as if the baby just belongs to her. I find it interesting, a bit strange and a little disconcerting all together. Anyway, while the midwife was taking my blood pressure, Raspberry decided to weigh herself. It’s been almost a year since she was last weighed. She’s 17kg (about 37lb) now. I think she had a growth spurt recently, as one of her dresses seemed significantly shorter than I remember. I carried her for a moment yesterday and was surprised by how heavy she felt. It’s been a long time since I carried her. But I digress! My next appointment with the midwife is at 25 weeks — 9 weeks from now. I’m still displeased by how hands-off the system is. But at least now that I’ve heard the baby’s heartbeat, and know that it’s moving fairly regularly, I’m a bit more at ease.
The baby’s moving more now than it was when I first suspected I’d started feeling it move. Lucas likes lying with his head in my lap and his ear pressed up to my belly to hear it move, as it’s still not outwardly noticeable. He talks to it, even though it’s only just beginning to hear this coming week. It moves quite a bit especially after I’ve had a large meal. I figure it might be because it’s a bit cramped in there, because of the full stomach. Last Sunday, as we were falling asleep in bed, Lucas was being a pest and poking at me and I suddenly felt a weird scratch-poke on my side, which I thought came from Lucas, but it turned out it had come from the baby. It’s strange how it sometimes makes these huge jolty movements, when everything else still only feels like a flutter.
I’ve been nauseous again, or perhaps I should say that I’m still nauseous, sometimes slightly, sometimes moderately. Breakfasts are tough for me because I’m not a breakfast person to begin with — I eat only because I should. Lately, I’ve been dreading having breakfast. Yesterday, I tried to avoid making breakfast for as long as possible — I checked my email, refilled jars of food, cleaned up the kitchen counters, anything to put off having to eat. Finally, I had a clementine and a cup of strawberry-raspberry tea and around eleven, when I was feeling particularly nauseous, Lucas suggested I have some crackers. I wolfed down a large handful and immediately after, curled up on the couch to shut my eyes as I was feeling especially horrible. Barely a few minutes later, I had my head in the toilet and everything came right back up. My second time puking in two weeks. Of course, once it all came out, I felt much better. I can’t quite figure out if there’s anything in particular that the nausea is associated with (other than my hormones, of course). I’m at 16 weeks tomorrow, so I really hope that this is the last of the nausea, but I’m sure that’s wishful thinking.Advertisements