27.2

So here's the thing.  Specialists, in general, are weird people.  Strange, socially awkward human beings who either chose that life because of their emotional shortcomings, or are that way from years of hard work, medical school, and isolation from reality while they strove to become the best.  Either way, they're weird people.  My specialist is no exception.  I would consider him to be a relatively nice guy, but not out of his way warm and fuzzy by any means.  He's quiet.  Really quiet.  So quiet, in fact, that I have a hard time hearing the short one to two word phrases or acronyms he "calls out" during the ultrasound, and I'm right next to him!  I can't imagine the difficulty the two techs have hearing him that are sitting behind him a few feet trying to write everything down!!  So, volume-wise, he's very quiet.  The other way he's quiet is he barely says anything; certainly nothing but those short phrases during the actual ultrasound, but after when he's giving us the "report", it couldn't be less informative.  Usually it's something along the lines of "baby's growing, let's keep an eye on everything and keep doing what you're doing."  He doesn't elaborate or tell you what he's concerned about or why; and I'm thinking that for the $200 out of pocket I'll have to pay him for his 15 minutes, I shouldn't have to ask!  But something happened yesterday; a very small detail that could easily have been missed or passed off as nothing by some.

He measured the baby, as usual, and also the fluid level; at the end, he said "Well, fluid looks good, baby is still small but is still growing.  It weighs 1 lb. 14 oz.  Have you had your steroid shots yet?"  I answered that I hadn't.  He suggested I get them between 29 and 30 weeks and that I continue to see Dr. H every week.  I told him her plan to do my C-section at 37 weeks if baby doesn't come sooner.  He didn't really say much to that, but what he did say next rubbed me and hubby the wrong way.  Before he left the room, I stood up to begin making the next appointment to see him in two weeks, and he said, "Well...I'm glad you're still pregnant..." and then he left the room.  Um...thanks??  All I could think to say was, "Me too..."

So we made our next appointment and left and while we were waiting for the elevator, hubby (who usually doesn't say a whole lot about anything, let alone anything remotely pessimistic about the baby) said, "I didn't like the way he said that."  Truth be told, I didn't either, the more I thought about it.  Obviously, I'm glad too.  I thank God quite often for it.  However, there's a lot hiding between the lines in that statement.  If you want to sit there and think this pregnancy won't pan out, fine.  If you want to tell me that my chances are slim, go for it; at least you'd be honest.  But don't think this pregnancy isn't going to work because of what you see early on but tell me it's all looking okay every two weeks and then later basically tell me you're surprised I've gotten this far.  I mean, I had a feeling my doctors were surprised yet pleased, but they hadn't ever said so to me.  Up until this point, it has been just wait and see, baby's growing and doing everything it should.  Even if in the back of their minds they had doubts, they didn't show it.  I could see the cautiousness, but it wasn't ever blatent pessimism.  There are still a million things that could go wrong with this pregnancy or baby but I have to be positive that it won't; that everything will be fine and little Nugget will show them all.  I'm already so proud of baby for what he/she has accomplished.  We still have a long journey ahead of us and all I can do is pray that it will work out; that baby will stay inside and grow until Dr. H wants to do the C-section.  We've come so far already, from trying to conceive for 2 1/2 years, going through fertility treatments and struggles, to what will be my 7th month of pregnancy next week.   Not a single part of this process has been easy.

Regardless of Dr. J's demeanor yesterday, this is what's certain: so far, my baby has already defied the odds.  It has continued to grow at it's own pace (which is something Dr. J did say), is right on track with weight, and does beautifully on the ultrasounds with respiration and movement.  At this point, what more could you want?  I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  I could care less if my child ends up a whopping 3 ft. tall, so long as he/she is healthy and here with me on Earth. 

I've been busy this week, sorting (and resorting) the shower gifts, packing my hospital bag, getting the diaper bag items ready to go (still need to get a diaper bag), making a birth plan, getting the call list straightened out, and making a list of things that we'll need right away for baby that I'll need to get this week so it's done.  Some think I'm being all extra super prepared, and yes, I am.  But the reality is, and has been, that this baby could come at any time; I'm being practical.  The last thing I want is to go in for one of my Tuesday or Friday appointments and they tell me that they need to admit me right away to get delivery going; I usually go by myself and obviously don't have anything with me for a hospital stay.  What happens when I call hubby at work to tell him I'm in the hospital and that in a matter of hours or a day, I'm being opened up and the baby is going to be delivered?  He's going to be frantic.  It will be difficult enough for him to remember the bag that is already packed, let alone gather items we'll both need.  This is just easier.  Not to mention, I'm on "recliner rest"...I have nothing better to do all day than sit (literally) and think about things, so why not put that to good use and think about all the things I should eventually and get it all organized? 

Well, this has turned into a novel, so I guess I'll call it good for now.  I got my thank you cards in the mail yesterday so I can get those done for my shower gifts today.  As always, thanks for listening.  :)