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LuLu's Land of the Fey

All the news that bores the pants off anyone who cares.

Wednesday, December 31, 2003

The Pee Olympics

The thing about being pregnant is that I pee now nearly every time I stand up. Literally. One could almost make a drinking game out of how many times I pee in an hour. It's one of those things I'm sure I'm going to look back on after this whole shooting match is over and laugh at quite a bit. Right now, I'm too busy peeing to laugh. The only other activities I regularly participate in are marathon eating and all day sleep-a-thons. When I'm doing one activity, my mind is wandering to the other two, wondering when I will get to do them again. Really, I can see myself laughing about this someday. Seriously.

Being pregnant is pretty ok, so far. No real nausea to speak of, which makes it fun when I'm visiting my brother and his family. His wife had the audacity to get pregnant the week after I did, and so I think it's only fair that once again, she's puking her guts up (this is her third child) while the only time I get even a whiff of nausea is when I get hungry. Kind of ironic, I think.

So far, there have been few signs of actual pregnancy and so I have felt almost as if I were simply crazy and Robert has been merely humoring me in my delusions of baby. I've gained weight, but that could just be from all the binge eating I do on a regular basis now. I've been a moody bitch, but some (who would be very smart to disagree with me right about now) would just say that I'm often moody and bitchy. I've been taking things very personally--bad traffic, interrupted television programs, unanswered phones (obviously, people know how bitchy and moody I am of late and have decided to stop answering their phones so they don't have to talk to me), etc.--but I have crazy people on both sides of my family, so I could just be playing into the hands of fate with this one. The only real sign of pregnancy to this point has been an absence of my monthly visitor, and frankly, who is going to be keeping track of that crazy bitch showing up or not?

And so today marked something special in this rollercoaster ride of hormones. I went in for my montly visit with my doctor and got to have actual proof that there is, indeed, an alien living in my stomach. She used a Dopplar reader and I got to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time. Man, it sounded like that kid was running laps in there--she said the heart rate was about 170, which while alarming to me, she said was perfectly normal for a 3 month old fetus. So yay for me and yay for the baby.

Interesting side note on my vanity at this point:

During my last visit to the doctor (as with nearly every visit I have ever made to a doctor), I had to pee in a cup. Now, at this point in my gestating career, I consider myself somewhat of a pro. I visited Robert's office before going to the doctor and had to pee while I was there. He seemed concerned that I wouldn't have anything left for the lab technicians to dip sticks into. I gave him one of my patented "Silly man, you just don't understand..." looks and said nothing.

I get into the bathroom at the doc's office, pee into the cup to the point that I have to pull it away before I get done. I go to put the cup into the little cabinet in the wall that has a door on the other side so the lab techs don't have to see who is peeing for them and I notice there is another cup in there from the previous occupant. It's barely got half an inch of pee in it. I roll my eyes in disgust and mutter about amateurs being allowed into a pregnant woman's bathroom.

Flash forward to today. Lather, rinse, repeat. Get into the bathroom, more than adequately fill the cup and go to put it into the cabinet. Again, see a cup from a previous occupant and think to myself that someone really needs to put a fire under the lab techs or they need to turn off their games of solitaire and get busy. This cup is just as pathetic as the previous cup. Just as I start to sneer the word "Amateur!" under my breath, the unthinkable happens.

See, the thing is, I wasn't expecting the door to be spring loaded. I opened it with one hand, pulled my hand away to put my very carefully preserved specemin on the shelf when it slams back at me and hits my hand. The hand holding the very, very, very full cup of urine. Said cup then tumbles to the ground, spilling its contents on the wall, on the (very nice, very antique) cabinet next to the toilet, and on the floor. I haven't made a puddle of piss like this on the floor since I was a very young child and (surprise!) it still feels pretty crappy.

I cleaned it up as best as I could, and apologized profusely to the nurse. Oy. I promised her that if she would just give me 15 minutes, I could have another specemin cup for her. And true to my word, when I got done with the regular business of my office visit, I went back into the bathroom and filled another cup. Alas, this time, I only filled it about an inch deep. I hung my head in shame and could not help but think I had been robbed of some great honor.

It was decided later, however, that if they ever do have a Pee Olympics, I will most likely get the gold medal.

.: posted by amy 12:10 AM