I drove solo in the van for the first time yesterday, running errands. There was an OB appointment scheduled, and since we are trying to limit our trips to town, I hoped to get as many other things done in the trip as possible. Check out my ambitious to-do list- consisting of, but not limited to, dropping off the A Million Thanks cards we made, zipping through the ATM (does an E350 XLT ‘zip’?), posing at Walmart for Abbie’s one-year portrait, and emptying out Aldi and Meijer. Tack on the library, and the thrift store (1/2 off Wednesdays!) and you just about have it covered. Oh, and Abbie (obviously) and Aliyah were with me, which would add to the time things took. Still, I was pumped as I left this morning, looking forward to making the most of my time out in town. Then Luke mentioned that I needed to be home by lunch.
Now, I’m one of those people that, if I have a time limit, I think I actually move slower than normal. Maybe it hearkens back to those fourth grade timed math tests, making me too nervous to work, because I never get whatever it is done, when I don’t feel I have enough time.
So. We three ladies climb into the van, and are off to the OB. Before I go to the doctor, I go to the lab, where I have the glucose test done- I drink this sugary drink, then get my blood drawn an hour afterward, to test for gestational diabetes. It is now 9:45. The girl who is serving up my cocktail asks when my doctor appointment is, and I say, “Now, basically,” and she shakes her head.
“You better get back here within the hour, or you’ll have to do it all over again.” You been comparing notes with my husband, lady? Just what I need, to feel more rushed than I already am. When I get into the OB’s office, at 10:00, I tell the nurse there that I need to be back to the lab by 10:30. That would actually give me 15 extra minutes to get back to the lab, but she didn’t need to know that. Besides, I am always seeing demonstrated how loooooong it takes to listen to Baby’s heartbeat and pinch my calves; let’s see how record-quick it can be done! Once settled into the exam room, I notice that this is going no faster than normal. Five minutes go by. Ten. Fifteen. Then, through the thin wall I hear my midwife in her office, returning a call. Nice. And twenty minutes go by, while I sit there on that table, holding Abbie, who has, in the time elapsed, tired of new exam room experiences and life in general, ready for a nap. Aliyah has gone through all the instruments on the side table by now, asking what they are, and seems satisfied with my repeated, “That helps the doctors do their job”. She has now moved on to the question, “Where is the baby actually going to come out?” and right then, my midwife makes an appearance. Her timing wasn’t so bad, I suppose.
To be continued