Everybody Has an Opinion
October 6, 2006 by Veronica Mitchell
This morning I went to the doctor’s office for my regular prenatal check-up. It was a good visit. I barely had to wait at all, and I got the good nurse, an effusive older woman who calls every patient “Baby” and acts delighted with her job.
In the examining room, Good Nurse slathered my belly with jelly to listen for the heartbeat. Oh dear. The third pregnancy is a little different. I had to hold my belly up so she could listen where my belly usually (gasp!) folds over. After two babies, that stomach skin just does not snap back. I surprised myself by finding it terribly funny.
The humor continued when she found the baby’s strong, reassuring heartbeat and declared, “It’s a boy!” Now I know that no one can tell the baby’s sex by the heartbeat, whatever the theories, but I was willing to join in. “I thought it was a boy,” I said happily. “But my husband is convinced it’s a girl.”
The nurse left, and the doctor came in shortly after that. Her first words were, “She did tell you she doesn’t really know that it’s a boy, right?” I reassured her that I was not so gullible. The doctor said that she recently had a patient to whom Good Nurse had announced her speculations about the sex of the baby, and the patient had sobbed. She did not want to know the sex before the birth, and thought she had just been informed against her wishes. Poor confused, pregnant thing.
Considering I currently cry over the two sentence summaries of news stories on the radio, I feel only sympathy. And not even the sad news stories. Or not even news. A fella called into the radio station and said that the best present he ever got was on a recent holiday when his daughter called him from a treatment center to say that she was finally checking herself in for drug addiction. Try hearing that when you’re pregnant.
So the pregnancy is going well, though I’m a little emotional, and when I told the doctor about how awful the nausea has been lately, she said, “Being over-tired makes nausea worse. Tell your husband he needs to watch the kids more often and let you take more naps.”
*Cue the singing angels*
The medical professionals were not the only ones with thoughts to share, however. JellyBean was sitting in my lap tonight, and squirming too vigorously. I told her she had to be careful, because she could hurt Mama’s belly, and there is a baby growing in there. She scrunched up her face and shouted, “No! No there isn’t! There is no baby! THERE IS NO BABY!”
So you win some, you lose some.
Funny! It reminds me of the scene in The Matrix when the kid says “There is no spoon.”
My sister and I were just talking today about feeling queasy when we are tired. And we’re not pregnant! Get lots of rest!
Is there an emoticon for rueful laughter? Poor little Jelly Bean. Your doctor’s office sounds great - my OB was like that: he’s always in a huge rush, but he seems genuinely excited by each and every baby.
Aw, poor Jelly Bean. While I was pregnant with my son, we went to my midwife’s office for a check-up, and I went alone into the examination room. On the way home, our then-toddler daughter was hysterical and we couldn’t comfort her - it turned out that she’d thought that I’d had the baby and then forgotten it in the office. Poor girl.
I had the didn’t-want-to-know scare when I was pregnant with my youngest. The ultrasound doctor asked if we wanted to know and we said we didn’t. Fine.
But he wouldn’t let it go. He kept saying how he knew and he could tell us right then and there because he knew.
I was really mad (for a really long time) because I figured, if he’s that sure, it means he saw “something” - as opposed to “the absence of something” - meaning that by being so sure, he had effectively told me.
I never did find out what he thought he knew, and as it turned out, we had a girl.
But really. You just don’t mess with a pregnant woman. So much is going on that she can’t control, you don’t take away more control by deciding for yourself whether she wants to know the sex of the baby.
(Julia’s five now and I can still get indignant about it…
You know, from the moment, the very moment, I found out I was pregnant, I simply KNEW Harry was a boy. The first time I say him as a recognizable baby shape on the monitor, I said “Yep, Boy.” The nurse told “No, Honey, we can’t really tell at this stage yet”. I said “Trust me. Boy.” Harry has been Harry since he was negative 8 months old. Even though I had previously wanted a girl, I knew that if I had been wrong, I would have been horribly disappointed.
Later, in my third trimester, my OB told me that in her experience, mothers with strong hunches are correct 75% of the time. Weird, huh?
The really depressing part is that, even with my “babies” 9 years now, I still cry at the stupidest things, even while at the same time thinking, “What a bit of sentimental crap.” Tonight I heard the story of the boy throwing the starfish back (I’m sure you know it) and I actually teared up. In public! Sometimes I hate being a grown up.
edj has a made a point I’ve wondered about. Does pregnancy make us permanently sensitive?
Oh sweet Jellybean is too cute! When my mother was pregnant, my little brother asked her why she just couldn’t get a puppy instead, lol. I posted below to the onion pie post before I saw this one and had to chuckle since I said you were having a boy in that reply too. Hope your ms goes away soon, hun.
Take more naps! I like that advice. Where do I sign up?
So hopefully JellyBean will get those feelings out now, before the baby comes.
I’m with edj, by the way. I thought the pregnancy-induced sappiness would go away after the baby came, but he’s almost eleven now and I’m sappier than ever. Pre-kids I was the world’s biggest cynic. Lo, how are the mighty fallen.
Laughing over here.
I know well the sappiness that is the hormone-flooded woman. I was a wreck while preggo. I was a wreck while breastfeeding. Life insurance commercials? Brutal.
If it were at all possible to capture JellyBean saying that on video that would be fabulous footage to air at future weddings and such. But my kids never do any of those cute and funny things when I do whip out the camera, and I don’t want to wish the frustration upon you, given your current state.
I’m just going to start using Jellybean’s phrase everytime I see a pregnant woman.
“No! There is no baby! THERE IS NO BABY!”
Pregnant ladies love that.
I have to tell you, I feel so much better after reading this. One, I have the unspeakable fold of which you speak. And I am still a sentimental smooshball. I’ve been crying for a couple of days over the elephant story in the NYT. I thought it would be a “safe” story to read. Ha! I can’t read anything except for politics, health, arts, tech, or science since the birth of my first without profound emotional strain. Actually, the politics part causes profound emotional strain, too, but I must be some type of rage-a-holic because I keep reading it anyway. On another note, I loved to cook while I was pregnant. I’d be in the kitchen for hours….