And the venting begins....
I had a very early doctor's appointment this AM. Started off with construction being done on our street WAY earlier than was indicated and having me to flag someone down to move the huge trucks that were confining me to our driveway. Anyways, I thought it would be an easy in and out check up since I go every 2 weeks now and nothing has changed. Usually I love my doctor but today she (and the nurses) sucked. Like really sucked. I've had my blood drawn MANY times, the latest being for my glucose test before Chrismtas time. So she's looking at my chart and says by the way did you know you were a little anemic? Ummm no. Nobody has told me that? Or ever bothered to check my blood work? WTF? She then says its nothing dangerous but that I need to be taking an iron supplement to build up the iron supply in my blood to prepare for birth and the after effects. WHICH I COULD HAVE BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE TIME? I'm sure it's not a huge deal, but no soon-to-be-mom wants to hear that news when she is going into labor in less than 2 months. I half blame the nurses since I've had an issue with them relaying information before.
Then. She talks to me about fetal kick counts. Which I'm pretty sure should have been relayed or taught to me prior to being 32 weeks pregnant. Maybe not which is fine I guess, but this whole kick count thing really really scared me today. My saving grace these past 6 or 7 months has been going into the doctor, hearing his heartbeat, and reassuring me that everything is OK. Well all that changed today when the doctor told me "none of that really tells us much about how the baby is actually doing.'' Great. I have to pick an hour each day and make sure baby D is kicking at least 10 times. If he's not then I need to come in to get monitored because something could be seriously wrong or at risk for stillbirth. Now I KNOW that this is something every pregnant woman does and is very routine, but honestly it's making me a nervous wreck. Of course I started counting while I was waiting for the next appointment and he maybe kicked like 5 times. I feel like I'm going to dread this hour every single day until he is here. This is where advice is highly needed if you have any. Did you freak out about kick counts? Am I overreacting? What if he doesn't kick that much every day? Ugh. It just wasn't comforting to hear AT ALL. And she made me really scared about it.
To wrap up everything, I come home to find a huge hole in front of our house and no way to get down the street. So I have to park somewhere far (hoping my car doesnt get towed or broken into) and walk to our house. Then I spilled my salad. And now I'm hungry AND grumpy.