Went to the see the midwives today for a checkup. On the subway ride out to the office, all the seats were taken and I found myself standing in front of a row of dozing twenty-something guys. Able-bodied, flip-flop-wearing guys. The one directly in front of me wore sunglasses and pretended to be asleep, but I didn't miss his head swiveling around and glancing up at me before resuming nap time. The guy next to him groggily woke up, looked around, and fished out his phone to check his Facebook. On a different day I might've forgiven them, but at thirty five weeks into this adventure, with sore, swollen extremities and an achy back, my patience is wearing a little thin. So I took a picture of them. It made me feel better to know that I can remember their jerk faces for time in memoriam.
When I got to the midwives' office, I got my latest sonogram done with a technician that your father and I affectionately call Dracula on account of her thick Transylvanian-like Eastern European accent.
We looked at you from all angles, everything looked good. Your head is down, your fluid is good, etc, etc. You were grabbing your toes with your little hands, creating a ruckus up by my rib cage. It was pretty cute.
The Dracula showed me your profile and then suggested we look for a full frontal view of your face. Your little face came on the screen, and she asked if I could see it. I said yes. Then she said, "Dere he ees. I'm sure vill be veddy kyoot baby."
Here's a thing I learned once I'd had a baby that I wish I'd practiced when I was pregnant: I can ask for a seat on the bus or the train when I need one.
ReplyDeletePeople are self-involved ignoramuses sometimes. (I know because I'm one of them.) Relying on them to give me what I needed was a losing battle. It was kind of amazing to speak up, ask for what I needed, and get it.