So guess who went on her hospital OB tour yesterday? And guess who almost passed out mid-tour from another goddamned donkey spell? [ding! ding! ding!] Correct. Moi.
I felt a little warm about 10 minutes into the tour, so I took my sweater off. Reasonable. I figured with 20+ people in a narrow hallway, it might be a little too much humanity for temperature control. Then we crammed into a labor & delivery room and I managed to nab a seat, but the room starting spinning...and I broke out into a cold, clammy sweat...and according to KB, turned a lighter shade of pale...and thought I would either pass out and/or projectile vomit. I wanted to run out of that room so badly, to find a public restroom and hug a toilet or something, but people kept asking pregtarded questions, the same ones over and over, with fresh adverbs and synonyms substituting for new queries, keeping us captive. How hard is it to understand that you enter through triage, get admitted to L&D and/or go to the OR for a C-section, and then recover for 2-3 days in a mother-baby room down the hall? The unit is designed as a big semi-circle, so even conceptually it's easy to figure out. But one particular preg-genius kept asking how they decide whether to send you to triage, or L&D, or mother-baby rooms...crikey, bitch, I'm about to pass out, do the math and shut the fuck up so we can get out of this oven and I can breathe again...or sweet baby Jesus, just let me pass out so I don't have to listen to these inane questions anymore. The tour nurse kept glancing at me sideways, watching me mop the cold sweat off my forehead and my inability to sit up straight, and I secretly wondered if she was contemplating sending me to triage. I was tempted to get her attention and mouth, "help me." But as soon as we got out into the lobby, where there was some ventilation, I felt better.
By the time we got to the mother-baby rooms and the nursery, I felt fine; plus, it was really cool to see the brand new babies in the fishbowl-like nursery. One little guy was red as a beet and, well, naked as the day he was born; KB and I turned into adolescents when we noticed this little boy get a little gust of breeze and pop a baby boner. Poor imitation of Southpark-esque voices: holy shit, guys, I'm nekkid and I have a goddamned boner....stop staring at me, people....I want my cheesy poofs! Another baby was under a UV light with hilarious sunglasses-like shades over his eyes, and the preg-genius asked, "Why are they tanning that baby?" I turned to her, solemnly, and replied, "Because he was too pale at birth." This is the same woman who waited to check out her hospital's birthing center until about 2 weeks before her due date. Serious?
Let me just say, for the record, that while I am beyond thrilled that IVF finally worked for us, and that I would go through all of this a million times over to get the same result, I am still very tired -- exhausted -- of being sick. I fall into that sliver of a fraction of a teensy-weensy percentage of women that has it very, very rough all through pregnancy, and it's kicking my ass. Up and down the street like a tin can. Ongoing nausea, constipation, random and severe dizzy donkey spells [eeeehh-aaawwhh!], and daily (nightly?) insomnia is getting to me. Two to three hours of noncontinuous sleep per night is not cutting it. And if I hear another person tell me, "Oh, just wait until the third trimester, or after the baby's born; it only gets worse," I will lose my shit and kick their teeth in, Kill Bill-style.
So anyway, now we know all about the facility where our offspring will be sprung. We made a quick stop at the big-box baby store on the way home to buy a carseat and stroller. And lo! the heavens did not open up and smite me or my baby. I already bought a changing table, which is assembled and sitting awkwardly in the hallway, and the rocker and ottoman arrive this Friday. We still have to clear out the guest room to make space for all this baby swag. We haven't even planned for when the crib is coming in...I guess as soon as my sister-in-law drags it out of her attic. Then we're pretty set except for the "optional" loot we may get at a baby shower. I'm hoping for sexy things, like breast pump storage bags and lanolin and diaper pail refills and boxes of diapers. Because I am not going to outfit my kid in every ridiculous pantsuit people try to pass off as practical. I've already decided that my kid will be clothed in a t-shirt and diaper for as long as feasible, or less if tolerated, so long as KB and I are the ones giving baths, changing shit-filled diapers, and mopping up baby barf. I'll slap a hat and some booties on for pictures, I guess. Hell, that pretty much sums up my post-partum fashion plans, too.