Well today was my 32 week appointment and growth ultrasound. First I’ll tell you what went well, and then I’ll tell you what didn’t.

Most importantly, above all else, is that the baby is doing just fine. I knew on some level that she was, but at the same time I woke up this morning having somewhat of a panic attack. Not the immediate, hyperventilating, freaking out completely kind, but rather the kind of anxiety that sits hard on your chest, following you about your morning. Den asked me a few times if I was okay, because I was very short, and very unable to concentrate or converse. I was feeling some kicks, but not enough to completely reassure me. And she felt so low down, like she compacted down into my pelvis. I was just wrapped up in mental knots.

I’m not even sure that the entire reason for it was the ultrasound. We’re also at 32 weeks here, getting very close to my loss point. And the reminder card I got in the mail told me that the appointment today was to be with the Midwife I saw when I found out Devin was gone. I loved her, and all pregnancy I’ve been wanting to have an appointment with her just to show her how I’m doing and to say thank you… but at the same time today I just thought, I cannot have history repeat itself.

Regardless, I made it through my morning and drove white-knuckled to the hospital. (Den was meeting me there so I drove myself. It was raining pretty heavily and my car really needs some fixing because it’s not handling rain very well, so no, it was not a fun drive.) I was taken right in and got to see Katherine on the screen. She’s head-down still, calming my worries about her having flipped. And she was sleeping, explaining why she’d been quiet most of the day except for a few pokes. She had her arm over her face and was making little sucking motions – at first we thought she was sucking her thumb, but it appears she was just sucking on/against her arm. Her measurements are all still very normal, various parts of her measuring between 31w6d (which is exactly what I am today) to 32w5d. (It was her head that was measuring ahead! Abdomen and femur were right on.) Her estimated weight is 3lb 14oz, which is right about average (she didn’t give the percentile, I should have asked). Then the tech pulled out the 3d wand and tried to capture her little face for us. We got a half-view, due to the arm she was nestled into, but we also caught a big sleepy yawn! OMG how friggin cute.

So then we were led over to the midwife office and that’s where we started getting irritated.

We sat in a room for a little bit until the Midwife walked in. And much to my surprize it is not the Midwife who saw me when Devin died, but someone new. She introduces herself, sits down, observed that we just came from an ultrasound. I mention something about my monthly ultrasounds. She asks, “Why are you having growth ultrasounds?” I swear, even though Den and I didn’t actually look at each other there was this zap of highly irritated energy that flew between us. “Previous stillbirth,” I said tersely. “Oh sorry,” she looks down at the chart, “I didn’t read the chart yet.” No shit.

The rest of the appointment went well enough. She answered my questions. She asked some things about labor/delivery. She scheduled me for my weekly NSTs (non-stress tests) starting at 34 weeks (though that wasn’t simple). When I was laying down for her to measure and listen to the heartbeat she had Denis come over and feel the baby’s head, her back, her bum, as she pointed things out. That was pretty cool. She smiled the whole time and was polite. And yet. There was just something that I didn’t like, something that rubbed me the wrong way. How she’d phrase a question, or maybe I just never got over the fact that she didn’t read my damn chart first. Maybe I was annoyed that I just wanted to know The Plan for monitoring and appointments and she knew less than I did. Maybe I’m just not up for meeting new Midwives. She asked me if I had any preference for who I’d see for appointments, so she could pass it on to the receptionist, and I told her who I usually see. She pointed out, “[that person] probably won’t be at your birth, you know.” Yes, I am aware of that. But honestly? I don’t want to explain my situation to anyone else. The previous stillbirth, the IVF, the depression, the monitoring-even-though-I’m-not-high-risk. And if they can’t even read my chart before walking in my room – because it’s all IN THERE – then no, I don’t want to see anyone else. Give me someone who knows it all, then I can get on with what I’m actually concerned about at this point in time rather than re-hashing my whole freaking history. And when I don’t go over it all – like today, I didn’t mention the IVF part at all, it wasn’t relevant – then I feel like my caretaker doesn’t really understand where I’m coming from, doesn’t get the whole picture. And that means I don’t feel relaxed or comfortable.

But the true bugger of it all is that all of the various appointments I need makes it next to impossible for me to request a specific Midwife. If I was just going once every other week for an appointment it wouldn’t be much of a problem. But first I have to book my ultrasounds, and then book the midwife around that. Or, starting at 34 weeks, the NSTs. There was only one time slot open for an NST on the days I have flexibility, which means they’ll just have to give me whatever Midwife has an opening around that time. And all of that doesn’t even take into account Den’s schedule. And of course the day that I have off and Den has off half the time is Monday – and that’s the one day that they don’t do scheduled NSTs at the hospital, which means I now need to somehow majorly shift around my work load.

On one hand I think all of the appointments and ultrasounds are making me more stressed out – but at the same time, I’m pretty stressed out anyways. If it’s a week that I don’t have an ultrasound I worry that something’s wrong and we won’t see it; if it’s the week of the ultrasound I get anxious that we’re going to see something bad. I’m just anxious in general – I worry about all of her measurements; I worry that my weight is too much or too little; I worry that I’m measuring too big or too small. I really try to clamp down on it and just repeat positive affirmations and let it go, but it’s hard. My appointments at least give me something solid to hold onto. I am getting concerned about how the anxiety is creeping up, I may need to increase my antidepressants if I can’t get a hold of it. I really don’t want to become a raving lunatic. Throw in all the house disarray of the past few weeks and there are plenty of days where I am close!