It’s just about official. I love worry. Not to worry. Not worrying. …What an absurd concept. I had better elaborate.
Pregnancy is such a precarious state, and my own less than enviable health has certainly made it either more interesting or more difficult. Stuff comes up all the time, and there seem to be millions of things that can complicate or go wrong.
Seems that every time I stumble upon something that could be disastrous or terrifying, I worry like mad, only to find that it isn’t going to happen or is not a big deal. I talk it up until it blows away.
My appointment yesterday went fine. Doctor took a strep culture (so uncomfortable) and both she and her assistants were all sympathetic and sorry to see me wheelchair-bound. They all accepted the explanation quite easily as well. In fact, my doctor didn’t do much of anything to check if Owen had dropped into position–she just believed me when I told her that he had.
That makes me happy. People often don’t believe me when I say things, self-evident or otherwise. This is her business and she has every reason/right to want to double-check, but she just took it in stride and did all the other normal appointment-y things.
Instead, she just listened to my complaints about the debilitating pain and told me she could prescribe Lortab. The side effects, symptoms that would indicate I’m allergic (I’m not, thank goodness), how it affects Owen, and she agreed with my judgement that I ought to take as little as possible.
Oh, and it is not too early for him to have moved into position. Doctor says that his lungs are fully developed, and though she certainly wouldn’t say we should just induce me today, if he were decide to be born on his own at this point, he’d be just fine.
Also had more blood drawn to check on my thyroid. I think at this point, I can practically invite the lab people out to lunch. I know them better than I know my neighbours, haha.
Time to worry about the daily slog, now. I used to joke that Owen would be two weeks late, but now I’m pretty sure that’s not going to be the case. At lunch, I joked about taking bets.
My mum and dad are going to Phoenix on Friday to visit Grandma, and they’ll be back about Tuesday, so Owen needs to wait at least that long. And my doctor is going to be out of town in three weeks, so I’d really rather he not pick that week to arrive. This is easier to worry about. Not in that I’ll really do it. In that it doesn’t really worry me.
Except if he were born while my mum is out of state. Someone asked me what would happen if he was, and I think my immediate response was, “I’d be in trouble.”
Or maybe I said I’d go to jail. I was really out of it. Lortab is weird.
Dunno if I want to try to nap on the couch or not. I woke up around half past two and was afraid to go back to bed, because of PAIN, so I’ve just stayed up. Mostly reading. Clive Barker is not an author I trust often, but I’ve been enjoying Abarat. I think it’s best in a state of not being entirely awake or rested.