Today started off rough. I work six blocks from my home. I usually walk. Today it was pouring, I had a huge bag of report card materials to carry, I’m eight months pregnant and I wanted to drive to my midwife appointment after school. So I decided to drive. The battery was dead in my car. I knew I should not lug the report card stuff to school. So I decided to take the train to work… one stop. I went down to the train and sat there for fifteen minutes (did I mention I had about 15 minutes to get to work? It takes seven minutes to walk there.) As six trains passed me going the other direction. I looked at my watch. I had one minute to get to work. A train on my side came. It did not stop. Teachers can’t be late for work. Kids are waiting for them. I started to cry. Not hysterically, mind you. I was just so frustrated because if I were my normal self with my normal body I could have walked and I already would have been there. When I got there, about ten minutes late, the principal and the assistant principal were sitting in the office. They didn’t say anything to me. I ran up stairs and all of my morning program kids were in the neighboring teacher’s room playing board games. She said, “Why don’t you go get yourself set up. They’re fine here.” I had time to go to my room and unpack and calm down. Then I went and hung out with the other teachers as the kids had a grand old time playing games.
I lost my class list on which I keep attendance and forgot to take the attendance scan sheet from my mailbox in my rush to avoid my boss in the morning. So I spent a bit of time missing my pre-pregnancy brain cells… until I found the working class list… where it belongs.
It was supposed to be my class picnic. But it was pouring. I let the kids have an early recess… since it stopped raining around 11 am. They had a wonderful time playing with all the toys they had optimistically brought with them for the picnic this morning.
My honey had wanted to come to this midwife appointment and bring Cakie. So when I called her after work, ready for the whole family to ride on the makes-me-nauseated subway, she said, “Great news! Our neighbor can jump the car battery!” All I could think was that I’d been late to almost every single midwife appointment thus far. Now we have to jump the car? Of course I said, “Uh. Ok.” I tried to remain calm, thinking that the midwife was used to my lateness. But I was really worried.
We got out of Brooklyn in time. Every driving choice I made was the right one. Somehow I got to the office only five minutes late. Cakie puked all over himself about five minutes before we parked, so my honey had to run to babyga.p to buy him some clean clothes so as to not stink up the midwife’s office.
I got there on time. My honey got him a very cute outfit on sale. Everything turned out well. Cakie got to put the doppler on my belly to hear the baby’s heartbeat.
Except my midwife could not for the life of her figure out how my baby, who I will refer to in this post as the Man of Mystery, is positioned. She felt something under my left boob and said, “This feels like a foot!” But that was all she could tell. She said, “You really don’t need to worry about it until 35 weeks.” I said, “Yeah, but if I’m going to try to turn him, I want to do it while he has more room to move.” She — being wise and wonderful– told me to relax for the rest of this week. She made a quickie appointment for me to go in on Monday to get the other midwife’s opinion. And said if the other one can’t figure it out, we’ll schedule an ultrasound. Everything, again, turned out well.
On the way home my honey and I were talking. So many things today seemed to be going horribly wrong. So many things were nerve-wracking. But they all turned out for the best. We’re hoping this is what will happen with my labor and delivery. Now I’m worried. But when I get there, it will be on time, with a little puke, but a new outfit on sale and boardgames and recess. Or, at least, not a c-section? One can hope.