Tag Archives: perinatologist

The lasts

Hallelujah, my friends, we have entered the week of the lasts. The last pregnancy related appointments I will ever have to endure. Wahoo… I mean, I’m so sad this is ending… note the sarcasm 😉

1. Blood work: After two years of monthly blood work, which involved more than one year prior to getting pregnant to ensure my blood sugars were perfect pre-conception, and then nine months of once-a-month tests to ensure BG perfection throughout the pregnancy, I held my pin cushion of an arm out for the pretty little vampires one last time last Monday.


When you get blood work done this much, you learn which labs are the quickest and which ones have the best (and by best I mean least painful) blood suckers on staff.

2. Diabetes in pregnancy clinic: Last Tuesday was the last time I will ever step foot in that god-forsaken, numb-skull driven place again. When you have a nurse who works in a pregnancy in diabetes clinic who asks if you might be pregnant – one month after regularly going there! – and when you’ve got an evil hag of a dietitian who makes you want to go and vomit every time you eat, I’m thinking you got a problem.


Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye!

3. Eye exams: Each trimester of this pregnancy I have required an eye exam to ensure the pregnancy hormones and pregnancy blood sugars haven’t caused diabetic damage to my eyes. And you know, I figured, given that I had to endure those blinding eye drops, the eye gods could have done me a solid and granted me my wish of finally being sentenced to a life of eye glasses (when a girl looks as great as I do in glasses, she should NOT be deprived!) but nooooo, the eyes continued to be the epitome of sight perfection.


Not even pregnancy could mess with my sight 😦

4. Non-stress test: As of Monday, the one-and-a-half months of twice-a-week non-stress tests, which at times were actually quite stressful, were no more.


We aced those tests kid 😀

5. Obstetrician: Today, I went in for my last obstetrician appointment, which means no more freaking the crap out of me, no more poking and prodding, and other evil things to me (in the office that is) and no more peeing all over my hands. Oh happy day.


This book in the obstetrician’s office always made me laugh, but nine times out of 10, I left not feeling like a hot mama.

6. DINKs: Tonight could very well be the last night Big Ring and I are a Dual Income No Kid family.


Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap!

The reason for the lasts: My due date is Sept. 20. It was suspected I’d be induced around Sept. 6 (the day before my grandpa’s birthday; the most amazing man I ever knew). But following the results of my last ultrasound last Thursday, which showed a long-legged, pot-bellied, eight-pounder with a highly visible “layer of fat,” it was decided I’d be induced on Monday. Labour Day (how appropriate!). But today, that all changed. After complaining of an incessantly itchy belly last week, I was sent for some blood work, and it turns out my liver enzymes have elevated (yet another pregnancy side effect I’ve been plagued with) and they figured it would be best if we start the process sooner rather than later.

Cue the freak-out session!

‘HOLY COW… there’s a baby in there’

My goodness my “little” five-pounder is turning heads these days!


Even the shadows are talking.

I had an ultrasound done yesterday to measure the size of thumb-sucking alien baby and pretty much the whole time the perinatologist kept saying Yep, that’s a big one.” She did multiple measurements seemingly to will TSAB to a smaller size (they use an equation that measures the circumference of the head, the cut of mama’s belly and something else to figure out the size) but finally had to concede that I’ve got a five-pounder in my belly, which falls in the 93rd percentile of huge! (Really hoping that large head equates to a super-large, super-smart brain ;))

But given the numerous exclamations and proclamations regarding the size of my belly these days, you’d think I was carrying a 20-pounder in there!

Now, there have been some amazing people (friends, acquaintances, and even a few strangers) who’ve quipped at the smallness of my belly, and let me just say, if we weren’t already bffs, I assure you we are now! But more so than not, it’s those others whose comments haunt my daily endeavors:

“Wow, you’re quite large for where you are!”
“That’s not a subtle pregnancy is it?!?”
“That baby looks ready to pop!”
“Must be any day now.”
“Packing a large load there, hey.”
“Are you sure there’s not twins in there?”
“My gawd, that doesn’t even look real!”


Yep, it’s come to this, my baby the serving table 😀

It’s not the first time I’ve encountered such comments throughout this pregnancy… I have been sporting a preggers paunch for quite some time. And yet, every time I’m faced with these types of comments, it’s like I lose the ability to use my friggin’ tongue. Because if I were on the ball, that pharmacist, that barista, that old lady walking the trail, and that half-naked, hairy, old man sitting at the bus stop would have heard something along the lines of: “In 2 months time, this belly will be gone, but in 2 months time, that ugly face of yours will still be just as ugly as it today. Shame.”
Oh. Snap.

I can take a joke, sure I can, in fact, I’m usually the butt of my own jokes, and almost always the easy target for my brothers, but after 8 months of an ever-changing, hormonal body, 5 months of people remarking on the rotund size of my belly, one of them even having the gall to call me Tubs – and 90 per cent of whom are strangers – I’m losing my patience. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to walk up to a non-pregnant person and greet them as Shamu,” so why is it okay for them to walk up to me and pretty much do the same?

SUCK LEMONS JERK FACES!

Now, that all being said, when my soon-to-be brother-in-law, who I haven’t seen in about a month and a half, walks into a room, spots my belly, points at it with his mouth agape and shouts: “HOLY COW… there’s a baby in there!” he can be forgiven. I know I’m sounding hypocritical, but first of all, this guy is family, that’s what they do; second of all, he is notorious for sticking his foot in his mouth and bringing a laugh to everyone else’s in the process; and third, I know I could kick his ass in a running race – even in my 32-week pregnant state! Who’s laughing now Patty Pat Pat? Bahahahhahahaa 😛