24 Hours of Urine and Other Things I Shouldn’t Share on the Internet.

I had my doctor’s appointment on Tuesday, 37 weeks and 1 day.  The countdown to her arrival now stands at a week and a half away.

Here I am.  I get that I look like I am ready to pop any moment, but thanks for pointing it out random stranger. 

And then there is Finn pretending that he has “baby poop” on his hands while playing in his sand and water table.

We’re warped over here… just look what we do to our offspring.  We clearly should be doing this again, right?

 

Tuesday morning, I wake up excited to start the day.  The weather is amazing.  I’ve had a good night’s sleep.  Finn is being awesome.  I have my OB appointment.  I have lunch plans with my friend Jordan.  I have a 90 minute relaxation pedicure scheduled with my friend Stephanie. 

It is going to be a great day.

I’m sharing all this with the prep nurse at my OB’s office.  She tells me I only gained half a pound this week.  This day keeps getting more awesome!

Then she takes my blood pressure.  And it’s high. 

Super high. 

But I feel fine!  It is a great day damn it!  She re-takes it and something screwy is going on with the cuff, so she goes to get another one.  Still high.  I should say too that my BP is always on the low end of perfect, so this was super abnormal for me.  I could tell by the look on her face that something was not good.

“Michelle, you need to lay down right now on your left side, do not get up from this table,” she gets a pillow out for me.  It’s also awesome because I am already naked from the waist down to be checked for dilation and Finn keeps asking me why I’m covered with a paper towel.

Crap.

I lay there for 30 minutes, texting Dave.  Trying not to have a panic attack.

The doctor comes in, explains that I will be going to get a biophysical profile on the baby immediately and the midwife was coming in to take my BP.  If the bottom number was still over 90 I would be going directly to the hospital after the profile, so I would need to call someone to come get Finn. 

Um, ok?  Like that information wasn’t going to send my BP through the roof.

If the number is under 90, I was going to have a ton of bloodwork and pee into a jug for 24 hours straight.  I would need to be laying on my left side for as much of the day as I could deal with.  No stress.  Back in the office on Friday.  Also sounds like an intriguing and fun option, right?

Guess what I’ve discovered? Pee is the lesser of two evils.

1. Collecting urine for 24 hours is not fun.  Especially in the middle of the night when you’re attempting to be half awake so you can fall back asleep and not stay up for 2 hours.  Let me tell you that didn’t work.
2. Collecting urine gives you a complex that you indeed are not producing enough and OMG, WHY would they give me TWO jugs when I can’t even fill half a one?  Do people REALLY pee that much?
3. Taking a giant biohazard bag anywhere will guarantee that people will look at you like a maniac and wondering what is in that bright orange jug you’re carting around.
4. I really need to stop oversharing my tales of pee on the internet.  You people are going to stop reading aren’t you?

 

And now, Dave won’t leave me alone.  Again. 

So uh, send good thoughts, won’t you?