Questioning Quintuplets

I love going to my OB’s office.

I love it mainly, because it’s entertaining. My OB practices in a “Specialty Center” which also houses doctors who specialize in hearing impairment and allergy treatment. When I was dealing with infertility, I liked going to my OB’s office, because NOT every second woman was pregnant. Now that I’m pregnant, I enjoy going for the entertainment.

The hearing impaired patients are the most fun.

Generally, they are older individuals. Some have acclimated to their situation and often read or smile politely. However, a lot of the older couples have shouted conversations, often bellowing out what they had for breakfast or the timing of their last bowel movement.

Yesterday, I watched as a woman kept yelling about “the gardener,” and her husband thought she was calling him “pardner.”

At one point, he said, “I’m not one of your Westerns!” Seriously.

I should mention my best friend in high school was hearing impaired. We liked to joke that half our relationship was me saying something, and her saying, “Huh?”

(I never thought of Tania as being “impaired” in any way. The fact that she bravely faced struggle, the fact that she was the most completely unselfish person I’ve ever met, just made me incredibly grateful to be her friend. )

As I was sitting in my OB’s waiting room today, I indulged in one of my favorite pastimes – eavesdropping! I admit it. I sort of go by the “Listening Tom” rule – if you talk loud enough for other people to hear, you are giving tacit permission to be overheard.

(And therefore, in certain cases, reported on via eavesdropping blogger)

Anyway, one of the men waiting for the hearing doctor (audiologist?) saw an old friend in the waiting room. The two of them proceeded to have a conversation, while I proceeded to pretend to read Fit Pregnancy (while the rest of the room thought, “It’s too late for that, honey.”)

Older Man: I ran into your husband the other day! He said the babies are just opening their eyes.

Older Woman: Oh, they are! It’s so cute. I can’t believe he actually knew that. I mean, he listens to me go on and on and just pretends to ignore me. Then when he talks to people, he gives them the full update.

Man: How did everything go?

Woman: Oh, it went fine. She delivered the first four one after another, and I thought we were done. So, I laid down for a while, and when I got up, she squirted out another one.

At this point, I was amazed. This woman was grandmother to quintuplets! I wondered if her daughter was from Rockford or somewhere else, as I assumed “Quintuplets Born to Local Woman,” would definitely make the papers.

I thought it was a little gross she used the word “squirted” for the miracle of childbirth. But tacky has to originate somewhere.

I had tuned out during my ponderings and picked my eavesdropping up a minute later.

Man: So, when is your other one due?

(At this point, I was thinking of the presents this grandmother was going to have to buy!)

Woman: Oh, her! We think she’s a faker.

(What? She’s faking pregnancy?)

Man: Well, I’ve heard that happens sometimes.

(It does?)

Woman: Well, we’re actually kind of grateful. I mean, taking care of five puppies will be hard enough.

(PUPPIES? They’re talking about puppies?!)

Once again, one of my favorite pastimes managed to burn me. That’s what happens when you eavesdrop. You make certain assumptions without knowing the full story.

All in all though, a very entertaining waiting room experience. I couldn’t help smiling as I was finally called in for my appointment.

Inside, I showed the nurse practitioner my hands. “Are my fingers supposed to look like Vienna sausages?” I demanded.

“I’m afraid swelling in the hands and feet are normal,” she told me, as I wiggled my fat fingers inches from her face.

I told her how I’ve been jonesing (and I mean, seriously drive-through-a-plate-glass-window jonesing) for a Diet Coke. I asked if the fact that I’ve abstained from caffeine thus far would affect Sammy if I decided to have some caffeine now. She told me I could have one caffeinated drink a day no problem.

But I’m still too cautious. Last night I had a root beer with dinner (because the sugar is SO much better for my baby. *dripping sarcasm*).

My favorite part of the appointment (as it is with every OB appointment) was listening to the whop-whop of Sammy’s heartbeat. 144 precious beats a minute. Right on target.

I told my NP I still wasn’t 100% sure I’d felt the baby move yet. She told me it was normal for first pregnancies (and for those of us with more “insulation,” shall we say) to not “feel” the baby move until later in pregnancy.

“Rest assured, he is moving around in there,” she told me. “I practically had to wrestle him to get that heartbeat!”

I had a particularly exhausting weekend, so I was tired and sore, but yesterday afternoon I left my OB’s office on a baby high. Full of good news about Sam’s progress.

The next big event is this Wednesday when I go to Maternal Fetal Medicine for Sam’s fetal echocardiogram which is done via ultrasound (another ultrasound for ME!). Please pray for me and Sam!

Also, today, I go in to meet with my boss about my projects. She, understandably, wants to be fully briefed and prepared, so she can handle whatever happens with my pregnancy and how it may affect my work and our production schedule. Please also pray everything will go smoothly.

All in all, a very busy time for me.

I guess I can be grateful I won’t be squirting out five of anything.

At least, I sure hope not.