Today we had an ultrasound at 8:15 am, (I did NOT make the appointment time, btw) meaning that in order to drop the kids off at school and get parked and into the high-risk fetal assessment unit, we had to arrange for the kids to be watched at school extra early, eat breakfast, get dressed, and pack skating equipment, hockey equipment, lunches, homework, and gym clothes, in the car by 7:30 am.
Gahhhhhhhhhhhh, too much stress. I have only been in the house for a few minutes today. Not enough rest.
We finally arrive for the US a few minutes late, and the nasty receptionist makes us wait 10 minutes longer, then allows another woman who came later to go in front of us! And she was only there for a vanity scan, with her parents! Plus she was 30 weeks pregnant, pretty damn viable compared to me, her baby was moving a lot, perfectly fine, AND she had the nerve to complain that since she had only had coffee for breakfast so she wasn't sure they could do the scan, and she refused to go drink some juice because she wasn't sure she could get anything kosher. I mean, FUCK, last time I checked it was pretty damned unlikely that orange juice could break a dietary law, and frankly the life and health of your baby should always out rank a religious rule, but if you are THAT committed to a Kosher diet, perhaps you could make sure there were some snacks in your Prada purse or the pockets of your designer maternity outfit?
Or say....maybe just because you are lucky enough to be 30 weeks pregnant with a live baby and perfectly capable of eating, you COULD EAT FUCKING BREAKFAST YOU UNGRATEFUL HO.
You may wonder how I handled this, and no I didn't say what I wanted to, instead I just started to cry right there in the waiting room. Really really cry. My sweet husband held my hand, and patted my shoulder, and many many many minutes later we finally got in to see our ultrasound tech.
The baby has a heartrate of 178 bpm, and is now 3.67 cm long. Which is good, and my own blood pressure is good, and Fred the fibroid is the same or ever so slightly shrinking. The baby was not moving at all, which freaked me out, since it should be moving on ultrasound at 10 weeks, 3 days, but everyone said he/she was sleeping.
So I'm hoping.
In the meantime, I've decided I'm no longer going to wait in any of the damn waiting rooms they have there. I'd rather stand in the hallway. Unless----they start a waiting room for pregnant women who actually give a shit about the life and health of their babies, as opposed to the waiting rooms they have now, which are filled with women who only care about their clothes or squealing about the cute 3D pictures they want to get.
I don't wish these women or their babies a fate like mine, but in all honesty, someone needs to slap some sense into them. They simply don't get it, and they never ever will, and my resentment at their overwhelming sense of privilege sucks all the happiness out the few moments of joy I actually get in this pregnancy.
I have to find a way to ignore them or someday I will slap them IN REAL LIFE. And this baby will be born in prison. Shit.