It's been a joy, I admit, navigating the appointments, nurses, midwives, doctors, offices, appointments, and late appointments, and changes and more appointments that come along with having a child. I wouldn't trade it for anything, except maybe competent people with the bedside manner of at least a mortician. Maybe an auto mechanic.
On Friday, we left the house at 3:45 to make the 25 minute trip to Willimantic for an OBGYN appointment. Due to traffic ( a single car accident on Rte 89, which require blocking the road and calling in reserve Mansfield police ( yeah, that far down the ladder (yeah, parenthesis inside parenthesis)) to call in the rollback that took 15 minutes to pull the minivan onto the bed) we were running late. We called the office to let them know, and were told that we needed to hurry or they would have to reschedule. Long and short of it: pregnant lady, left work early, rushed down, previous issue with this office, scheduling issue last Friday = Not Happy Stina. It was looking like a real fun day.
As it turned out, all was well. We got there a bit late, but they saw us. The doctor was great, the staff was nice (why do doctors call the support people "staff"?), and we had a great visit complete with a heart beat listen and a small contraction when the doctor was feeling for the baby's head (pointed down!) And she's at term, so any day now (my guess: September 13th).
Moral of the story is, when we left, I saw this:
Where exactly are they sending us? Parking lot is to the left.
Jerks.
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