Glucola, Horse Shots, and Giant Babies

When you're 28 Weeks Pregnant, the doctors like for you to come in and be de-sensitized to needles. I had my appointment today. First, on my way there, I had to drink an unreasonably large serving of this Glucola drink...a cross between maple syrup and flat orange soda. The only reason I held it down was because I KNEW (from prior experience) that if I ralphed, the nurse at the office would NOT feel bad for me. And she would give me ANOTHER Glucola drink and I'd have to start all over....

At the Office...

After being weighed (4 pounds for the month, thank you...) and blood pressured (fine, fine...no worries) and given a "specimen cup" to umm....leave a specimen (and are these things getting smaller at each appointment?), the nurse unapologetically took at least three tubes of blood. And because my blood is Rh-, it was time for my Rhogam shot. Apparently, my doctor's office was out of regular injection needles and borrowed some horse needles from a vet's office somewhere. Needless to say, the nurse was able to inject the Rhogam into my marrow. She did have the courtesy to ask whether I'd prefer to be incapacitated in my right or left arm for the week...

Bandaged and bruised, it was off to the Ultrasound room. I knew I was going to be getting another U/S to check for low fluid (it was critically low with Grace, but we only caught it by accident. There is no increased risk for low fluid with this pregnancy. I think maybe the Dr was only checking because I was worried?) so I brought the team with me. I lay serenely on the paper-covered table staring up at the big-screen ultrasound, the baby inside me assaulting me from the inside with all his might, attacking every internal organ in his proximity (which at this point is all of them). The baby outside of me was attacking her dad with every ounce of force and all the skill available to an 11-month-old. While he tried to get her to focus on the books in her bag, she was screaming in her baby-language what Jerry and I know was "OUTSIDE! OUTSIDE!"

Despite the minor distractions, here's what we learned: Baby Wesley is doing great. He's measuring right on track for his gestational age. He has plenty of fluid to swim around in. He is DEFINITELY a boy and had his boy parts proudly on display. He's also measuring in the 70th Percentile for weight/length. So, despite my best efforts (and success, I might add) in the moderate-weight gain department, my baby is still on track to weigh in at over eight pounds when he's born. Ouch. Again.

On my way out, the nurse snagged me again...she needed just one more vial of blood....eh.