Week 12, Day 7 (Efforts despite absentia)

Wheeeeuuuu... I'm pretty much knackered tonight. Had to pull a very late night & early morning to get some slow-coach clients' tax returns in to IRD before the end of the financial year (which is today). Missed out on one, despite lots of nudging, which means I lose my perfect 100% score this year, and that bunches my panties a whole lot. I could have pulled a swifty and dropped that client off my list in retaliation (and thus gained the magic 100%) but I felt it would be cheating. Legal cheating, but still icky on my conscience, so I swallowed and accepted the nearly perfect result.

Then... I get home tonight after a busy afternoon out and about (report on that in a mo) to find out the intermediary agency had not sent all the returns in, and wanted confirmation from me to do so. Arrggghh... I whipped off a quick reply saying "go for it, hurry please!" and just hope hope hope that they are working late tonight so that I can at least have my 99%. 99 I can live with - less than that is going to be hard to endure! (Oh the joys of being a control-freak) ...update... The agency are apparently working late tonight, bless them, and the returns are confirmed as sent! 99 and all is well ...

Anyway, this afternoon we had a midwife appointment, and this time Wayne came along for the ride. He missed the first one due to a work committment, so was keen to come along to the next one to meet Robyn and ask some questions of his own.

Robyn had no problem with Wayne being present - were we both imagining it, or was she a little surprised to see the dad attend? I wouldn't normally have picked up on the possible nuance, except for a surprising trend I noticed when we went for the nucal scan. Imagine you're sitting in a waiting room filled with women in various stages of pregnancy, many with toddlers in tow. You realise there is not a single male to be seen. You reach for a magazine, and find that every single mag is female-oriented, as if they really don't get a lot of men in their waiting room.

Then when your hubby arrives in after parking the car, he gets more than his share of puzzled looks.. you start to get the idea that men still don't tend to play a major role in pregnancy.

I thought that attitude went out with the dinosaurs? Tell me I'm wrong... ? Well hell, this dad is 100% involved in his child's wellbeing, and none of it because I'm strong-arming him into it. He's naturally inquisitive, genuinely loving and supportive, and we are always a double-act. Ask Karl, get Wayne free (and vice versa). Maybe I'm weird but a relationship's supposed to be a partnership, right? If he had a big thing happening inside his abdomen, you betcha I'd be there with bells on, whether or not that thing carried 50% of my DNA.

Anyway.... ;-)

The visit went well. I peed on a stick, for which I wasn't given an explanation but my foray into the weird world of Atkins some years back (useless!) told me it was a ketosis test. Apparently I passed, which is good (note to self.. dig up the old ketosis test kit and see what your colours meant, because you're a bit nosy like that). I weighed myself and discoverd to my annoyance that the hospital's scales are every bit as aggravating as my scales at home.

I weighed myself FIVE times, and got five different figures, the highest being ten kilos above the lowest! Gimme a break.. the baby's not bouncing around that much, surely! I told the midwife the second highest of the resulting figures, even though that seemed to indicate I've put on 4kgs. I seriously doubt it (pre-pregnancy clothes still fit fine, if you don't count the bra factor), but best to err on the side of caution. Midwife isn't worried about this apparent weight gain, apparently I'm still within the good averages.

Blood pressure good (130 over 80, ten up from last time but I put that down to the tax stresses). We got to listen to Taddy's heartbeat today, but for a few minutes we heard nothing at all apart from the odd tummy gurgle (damn that reflux!) and my own heartbeat. Then, just as I was about to hit all the panic klaxons, bubs moved up towards the surface and the heartbeat came in strong and steady. I hope we check the heartbeat each visit - that's a very nice reassurance that baby is alive and beating.

I bravely fessed up that the "quit smoking" isn't doing all that well, and Robyn is going to get a support system in touch to help me give up the habit. The addict within is in a rage that her fix is about to get nixed, but tough baby, TOUGH!

After this it was off again to the library to hire out again that wonderful book "Up the duff" by Kaz Cooke. I could buy it, but this is going to be my only pregnancy so why buy when you can borrow? Unfortunately it was out on hire (arggghhh!) so I may have to buy after all. Time to hunt up the listings on Trade Me ;-)

Wayne came in (again!) very handy at the library. Tell me, do, why every single library I've visited has their pregnancy books on the very bottom shelf? Bugger the Dewey system, it can't be accidental if they ALL do it! I reckon somewhere there's a hidden video camera, and council staff sit around at afternoon tea, giggling at us trying to reach down while simultaneously maintain balance and bladder control.

Wayne mentioned this problem to the library staff, who hid behind the catalogue rule, but promised to at least consider how awkward this is for expectant women.

Btw, for the kind souls who suggested Gaviscon etc for my reflux & indigestion, yes I *could* take it, but Robyn suggests not for two reasons. 1. If I start now, I'll end up taking it for the entire pregnancy, with higher and higher doses needed to give any relief, and 2. It contains aluminium, which has been strongly linked to Alzheimer's. Given how bad the daddy's long term memory is, let's not up the odds!!

Speaking of Daddy, he's snuggled on the bed with the dog, playing Halo 2. If that dog ever learns to weild a gamer's handset, I'm in trouble... ;-) Better go tag-team him and kick some alien butt.