I had my 16-week appointment this week – a bit late because as I was scheduling it at my 12-week appointment, the receptionist said my midwife would be on vacation during my 16th week. So I made it for today, when she would be back.
Mike has come with me to the last two appointments, but today was a boring old pee-in-a-cup-and-make-sure-the-baby-is-still-growing appointment. So, it was my first appointment alone and I was 15 minutes late (I’m late to nearly everything in my life – but I have ALWAYS been on time for my midwife appointments. All two of them.). I also was starving because I hadn’t eaten breakfast due to a spectacular gag-fest that left me weak and not ready for food. (The second trimester awesomeness? ALL LIES!) Hunger turns to nausea and my Clif Bar was tucked out of reach in my bag in the back seat as I drove. I nearly died. It was dramatic.
SO, it was a bit of a rough start and I was flustered as I arrived at the office.
After I peed in a cup (I learned my lesson at the first appointment – when I peed right before the appointment and had to down four cups of water to be able to “give a urine sample”), got my blood pressure taken, and stepped on the scale (I’ve gained 4 or 5 pounds. I’m hoping they tell me to start drinking a daily milkshake to increase my weight gain. Mmm.), I went to the exam room to wait for my midwife.
The nurse closed the door behind her as she left and said, “Susan, Ashley is ready to see you.”
Susan? But that’s not my midwife’s name. Weird. Maybe she’s still on vacation?
In came Susan, who was much younger, smaller, and bubblier than my midwife. “Hi!” Susan said, “I’m Susan. Did you make your appointment with Jean?”
“Um, yes.”
“Jean is no longer with us,” Susan told me. “No longer with us” could mean she quit, she died, she got fired. It’s a confusing euphemism and I was a bit thrown off. Susan continued, saying something about health care and the economy and how there were still four midwives on staff and how my care wouldn’t be affected at all.
Huh. So I guess she was laid off. Didn’t see that coming.
The rest of the appointment was a bit blurry – we talked about scheduling my ultrasound in a few weeks, feeling baby movement, and taking Metamucil to *ahem* help things. The heartbeat was strong and the baby was wiggling away from the Doppler. My uterus is growing properly. Score.
I feel just awful for my old midwife. I really liked her, but I know I will really like Susan, too. She’s very young and sweet; I feel so comfortable with her. But, man. How sad. Layoffs suck.
On a happier note, this week is Spirit Week at school and it’s pretty much my high school dream world – the theme is “Bringing Back the Boys” as in BOY BANDS. The seniors are *Nsync, the juniors are Backstreet Boys, and the sophomores are LFO. The senior lockers are all plastered with *Nsync posters, the windows are covered with lyrics to *Nsync songs, and *Nsync album covers line the walls. I’ve had several embarrassing obsessions over the years – Amy Grant, Hanson, No Doubt, Titanic and Leo, but the biggest of all was *Nsync. Particularly Justin Timberlake. The first car I drove was a 1987 Chevy Celebrity, which thrilled me for obvious reasons. I taped a photo of Justin to my dashboard. I went to three *Nsync concerts in high school (there probably would have been more if we hadn’t moved to Malaysia after sophomore year) – even making halter tops with my friends with “celebrity” in glittery silver. I taped The Rosie O’Donnell Show when they were on and downloaded every possible obscure song by *Nsync I could on Naptser (Spanish version of “This I Promise You”, anyone?) I plastered my walls with dozens of posters and magazine articles about them.
Oh, 1999.
So, maybe you understand now how my heart gets aflutter and I am giddy as I walk down the halls, singing *Nsync and Backstreet Boys songs to myself. Twelve years since I bought my first *Nsync CD and they’re still popular with high school girls. Have I mentioned I love working at an all-girls school? This week. Is. Awesome.
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