We went in on a Monday afternoon to Dr. B's office, which is located right on University Avenue. Right across from the building that my dad works at.
We tried to be sneaky so that my dad wouldn't see us, but then we realized that even if my dad was looking right at us, he wouldn't realize it was us. My dad is like that. Haha.
So we went into the super fancy building and checked in about 10 minutes early.
I filled out a least a million forms about me and my husband, and then "sneakily" tried to get some information from our parents without them catching on. I think we did okay on the sneaky part.
I didn't realize how much the doctors analyze the parents and every single little health issue that they have ever had, or that their grandparents had, or that their great-great-great-great-grandparents had.
Finally, we finished the forms.
The nurse, who was very nice, and I think was about our age, led us into the back.
I didn't really know what to expect and wasn't really prepared for the next few things.
"Okay, now I need you to go pee in a cup for me."
I don't know why I have such issues with peeing in a cup or getting my pee tested, but I think it's nasty.
I took the cup and instructions and locked myself into the bathroom and then stared at the enormous toilet.
And then stared at all of the toilet's BUTTONS.
And then stared at all of the toilet's buttons again.
Why in the world would a toilet need buttons?!?!
After a few minutes of surveying, it turns out that this extra fancy toilet had buttons for streams of water to clean your front and your back (gross), and had buttons to warm up the seat (gross), and had buttons to lower and raise the toilet seat (gross). So unnecessary.
I quickly decided to not experiment with any of the buttons, even though the pee-for-me directions told me to wash my front side with toilet.
NO thank you.
That could go wrong in so many ways.
I would probably miss, and the water stream would go into my pants, and then I would come out of the bathroom looking like I wet myself instead of the cup.
Fortunately, I already had to pee (thanks to being pregnant) and so once I finally buckled down and tried to pee, it came pretty quickly.
|This is me in the bathroom...procrastinating. Documenting my 7 weeks. Although that may be a food baby.|
(Sorry if this is gross for you, it's gross for me just recounting this :-o <------- puke face)
Then the nurse took my blood pressure. Not bad.
Then she weighed me. Not bad. For the record, I weighed 119 at 7 weeks.
Then she wanted to take my blood. Not okay!!!!
Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a straight-up wimp. This is why I could never be a nurse. I get grossed out to easily. And I hate when people pop my personal bubble. And I hate when people take my blood.
I had Clayton distract me with cute little animal pictures on his phone while the nurse took 15 gallons of my blood.
I couldn't feel my arm afterwards. Then she gave me a pink bandage thing that cut off my circulation even more.
Once I stood up to move to the examination room I felt super light-headed. Dang nurse, taking my blood. Pffft.
Once inside the examination room, the nurse said the doctor would be in shortly and then she left.
Clayton kept saying that I would have to get examined, not just examined. Like the whole deal.
I was pretty sure he was wrong, because why on earth would he have to do that?
I am perfectly fine down there, and it's not like the baby is coming for a very long time.
But, lo and behold, that horrible torture chair with the leg pedestals was sitting smack dab in the middle of the room.
And then the nurse came back in and handed me a super-thin paper gown to change into.
I immediately thought of how I could tell the doctor that I wasn't really pregnant, this is a mistake, I've gotta go home now.
I would do almost anything to get out of the situation I was in right then.
Clayton kept laughing at me. He knew he was right and that I was very, very wrong.
Then I knew I was stuck. Sigh.
I hate being a girl sometimes.
Dr. B came in and talked to us for awhile.
He is an older, chubbier, man that really likes to talk.
Correction, he's a man that really likes to talk about super expensive procedures that he's rarely done.
I guess he wasn't everything I expected in my prenatal doctor.
He was very nice, but I felt like with every question I had, his response was, "well, everyone is different, and if you aren't sure about something, call the pregnancy hotline."
Umm, aren't you my doctor? The person I am paying for answers and help??
I may be looking for another doctor soon...but maybe this is how they all are.
Anyway, back to the exam.
It was painful and stupid. Like I said, I HATE when people pop my personal bubble.
The doctor said something about how small I was for being 7 weeks, whatever that means.
We stopped at the receptionist desk right before leaving to receive a large bag full of pregnancy magazines, a billion prenatal pills, samples, expired coupons (seriously, though), and a health keepsake booklet.
That was nice.
And that was my first doctor's appointment.
I really can't wait to get poked and prodded again at my next doctor's appointment.
Being pregnant is so fun.