September 7, 2005

How stupid am I?


My doctor is a sensible woman. Unfortunately, I am the variety known as “idiot”. All along, my doctor has maintained that I could lift things as long as it felt comfortable. I guess she trusted that I would be responsible and LISTEN TO MY BODY. Yeah, sure - I was listening yesterday as my body protested when I hauled around 3 boxes of books. I was even listening as I packed up 1 box and 2 bags of clothes for charity, THEN schlepped 2 bags of clothes for dry cleaning. No, I am not injured but I was incredibly sore last night - getting in and out of bed required incredible reserves of pain tolerance.

So, I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour and I have to wonder - do I confess? Can a fetus be taken away from its idiot mother? Do I not get a chance to prove myself AFTER he is born?

Oh, and where is my husband, you ask? X is out of town, working his ass off and has been gone since Sunday. It’s certainly not his fault he married an impatient moron.

Update: Went to the doctor's this morning and confessed my sins. A few "Hail Baby's" later and a firm admonishment to be more careful, I was given a pass - particularly in light of the fact that the clothing is being sent to Houston for the hurricane victims. Also, I have only gained 16 pounds for this weigh-in! With 5 weeks or so left, I am doing pretty good in that department. Furthermore, it looks like the little guy has FINALLY turned - the doctor had to find the heartbeat in a completely new area this time around. I wouldn't be surprised if he had turned last night, actually. I tried a recommended "laying down" position for turning breech babies and the rest of the night the kid was wiggling in all sorts of wonky ways. Regardless, I don't care what did it - I was starting to get worried that he hadn't turned yet so I am relieved.

Next Up: I need to start deciding on music for the labor/delivery room. I am thinking of just taking the iPod in and I can't help but think with glee that this is my BIG CHANCE to subject X to hours upon hours of Pink Floyd.

Careful with that Axe, Eugene.

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