Yesterday was my latest prenatal checkup. I continue to be the very picture of gestational health. My blood pressure is still within my normal range, as is my pulse, there is nothing suspicious in my urine, and all the measurements are exactly where they should be. Also, my group B strep test was negative, so that’s good news. As an extra added bonus I had my first non-stress test. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this, they sit you down and strap monitors to your belly, one for your heart rate and one for the fetal heart rate. In order to pass the test you need to see two accelerations of the fetal heart rate in a twenty minute period, meaning that they want the fetus to move twice and see it’s heart rate speed up as a result of the exercise. The fetus and I passed easily. In fact, at one point we had four clear accelerations in a five minute period, so no worries on that front. Nurse Pollyanna claimed it was the best test she’d seen all week. I’m a bit dubious about that, this is Pollyanna after all, she or the rose-tinted corneas. Luckily I had independent knowledge of what constitutes a pass on this test and it was pretty easy to read the chart during the test. Another tidbit to note was that I did not contract at all during the test, the only squiggles on my line were upwards ones caused by the fetus pushing on the part of my belly that had the monitor. My educated guess is that I am in no danger of going into labor anytime soon.
Speaking of going into labor, HR at my job has mailed me yet more paperwork about my upcoming maternity leave. Each and every thing they send me has multiple warnings that it is my responsibility to inform my manager about my upcoming leave. I find it amusing, all things considered. It’s not just that my current condition is blindingly obvious or that my manager knew what the deal was almost as soon as I did. No, it’s ironic because my manager is the one reminding me on an almost daily basis that I could go into labor At! Any! Minute! Mostly he does this because he’s concerned for my health and wellbeing, so I don’t mind a bit, though I am getting close to asking him not to tease like that. Sure, in theory I could, but the smart money is on four more weeks of aching ribs, sore back and a semi-functional hip.
P.S. Since I forgot to mention it before, we did succeed in hiring a Doula who I am very pleased with. She has just the right amount of crunch in her granola, plus a pretty thorough understanding of all the medical stuff. I also felt comfortable enough with her that I’ve been telling her about nurse Pollyanna and nurse Ditzy using those names. Generally I have to like people to admit to my bad habit of less than complementary nicknames. It also turns out that the Doula is taking latin and salsa lessons. Perhaps I should warn her about Frogman if he is still infesting the local dance scene.