24 Week Appointment

Today's visit to Doc was much like that on the 16th week--no ultrasound, just a simple check-up.

All was good-- weight gain fine at 15.5lbs, blood pressure excellent and no real complaints to speak of.

The nurse--the same one from week 16--listened to Baby Girl's heartbeat, and this time she found it in about 5 seconds. Thank goodness! She even said that she got a kick when she first put the scope to my stomach. I guess Baby Girl doesn't like being poked! The heartrate was at the healthy pace of 145.

Doc came right in and said, "Boy, you're looking great!" which is just what I needed to hear after my panic-attack last night.

Let me explain.
For dinner, I made meatball subs and pasta (and no, Mom, I still didn't make my own meatballs or sauce). And for dessert, Corey and I split probably close to half of a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I mean, we just had to finish the carton because we're leaving on vacay tomorrow (Dominican Republic-bound) and I wouldn't want that ice cream to get freezer burn.

After our pig out, we promptly fell fast asleep on the couch with major food coma. Around 11pm, we woke up and went to bed. I don't think Corey even opened his eyes going upstairs because he immediately started snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow. I, on the other hand, started feeling horrible with myself with how much I'd eaten and all of a sudden had this feeling that none of the bathing suits I'd bought for my trip were going to fit.

Nearly an hour of tossing and turning later, I found myself rummaging in the closet for all my new duds. Everything still fit, of course, but it was a close call. I could just imagine getting all the way down to Punta Cana and pulling out my bathing suit to find it only covers half my bootie. Yikes!

So, back to the appointment.

After the ego-boost from Doc, he pulls out a measuring tape to record the size of my uterus. 27 centimeters, he says. Which again, is a little bigger than where most people are around 24 weeks, but still not enough for Doc to want to change my due date. He said my uterus just had a major growth spurt and that he doesn't expect much of an increase in size come next visit.

Since I'm still feeling good, have had no complications or anything abnormal show up, Doc began to give me the low-down for my 28 week appointment. He explained to me that next time he sees me, I'll need to be prepared to take the glucose test that gives an indication for gestational diabetes. I'll have to drink some super-sweet liquid and then wait an hour to see if my pancreas can create the necessary insulin to regulate my blood sugar. Oh, and as a hint, Doc told me not to binge on ice cream the night before the test. Of all the things we talked about, I made sure to write that down.

Before I left, I asked Doc when my next ultrasound would be, and he informed me, much to my dismay, that there would be no more ultrasounds unless medically, he found it necessary.
The conversation went like this:

Me: "Doc, you mean I won't get to see her again?!"
Doc: "Well, you'll get to see her everyday for the rest of your life once she's here."
Me: "Yeah, but that's not the same. Seriously, what do I have to tell you next time to qualify for an ultrasound? Just tell me, and I'll say that. And I'll wink to let you know I'm faking but you can still give me the ultrasound, ok? Ok, good plan. Oh, and I won't tell the insurance company, don't worry. So ok, let's go over what I need to say, exactly."

Doc was rolling. He said I was his funniest patient. But I was being serious.

So it'll just be the sugar test next time. Maybe if I eat a whole gallon of ice cream and fail the sugar test, he'll have to give me an ultrasound..... hmmmm....