Aimee part 1

My baby girl turned 6 weeks old on Sunday.

SIX!

It's almost impossible to believe. Sometimes it seems like she was just born, tiny and perfect and needy...and other times I look at this infant...no, baby...and wonder what we did before we had her. She's so big, so smart, so...vocal. Hang on a minute, she dropped her nuk. Okay, we're good for a little bit now.

So...going back about 8 weeks...the last three weeks I was at work were pure torture. I would start getting sciatic pain starting after 7-8 hours, and would finish out the night limping. Everyone had their opinions about when she was coming, how big/little I was, how big she was going to be, etc. I finally got to the point where I had to try to ignore everyone because I would get too frustrated. Two weeks before she was born I dropped down to 8-hour shifts because of the physical (and mental) stress. Monica was able to go to an appointment with me, and I thought she would cry when she heard Aimee's heartbeat. :)

one of the last "photoshoots" Jason did for me - 38 weeks

Then the week she was born...I got to work Monday (the 2nd) around 2:30...clocked in at 2:45 like I'm supposed to, and started getting report from the dayshift charge nurse. During report I started getting pains like a side stitch that came and went. Over the course of the next 8 hours the pain got progressively worse and more constant. I was in charge, so didn't really have time to sit down and time them. I got home around midnight, and the pains continued until about 2am when they finally stopped. I was soo mad; I really was hoping that was it and that she was coming. :-/

Anyway, Wednesday (the 4th) I went in for my 39/40w appointment. On the way there, I got stuck in three traffic jams, and called them to let them know I was going to be a few minutes late. The receptionist cheerfully told me she would relay the info Robin, who would be seeing me that day.

*crap*

All I'm gonna say is I wasn't much impressed with Robin the last time I saw her.

So anyway, I get to my appointment, and I get stuck waiting in the room for about 30 minutes. Normally I wouldn't care, since I was about 10 minutes late. However, with any of the other midwives I didn't wait longer than 10 minutes to be seen...and I could hear her talking out in the hall for at least 10 of those 30 minutes. >_> When she finally came in she started asking the routine questions...when she got to fetal movements, I told her it was a little less than usual over the past week, but my understanding from what the others told me was that this was normal for late pregnancy as the baby is running out of room to move. Well, she starts flipping out about how that's not true, she doesn't understand why people are told that because it's the biggest misconception about late pregnancy, and basically tried to make an ass out of me for thinking everything was going normal (which I knew for a fact it was). When I could finally get a word in, I explained that I still got my 10+ kicks in an hour if I drank/ate sugar and laid down, and that I was told that was fine. She finally laid off of that, and did my measurements...and got a fundal height 5 inches higher than the week before! I can't even begin to explain my astonishment at this, especially since she was measuring up into my ribcage, and the last two appointments (two different midwives), they measured about two inches below my ribs and commented on how low Aimee was. I think the best part of that appointment was realizing Aimee didn't like her either - she normally stayed very still during appointments, and at this appointment she kicked every time Robin touched my belly, and hid from the doppler. When she was getting ready to wrap things up, I explained about all the false labor I'd been having and she refused to check to see if I had progressed at all because "it wouldn't tell her if I was going into labor soon anyway", and she wasn't worried about the fact that I had lost a pound in a week because "it just meant I was getting ready for labor" - without explaining why.

I left in tears of frustration.It's marked in my chart that I am never to be scheduled with her again.

Aimee's fussing, I'll have to add more later.