I get so nervous before my doctor's appointments. I don't know why. If the nurse even tries to take my blood pressure prior to my seeing the doctor (and thus getting a confirmation that I have nothing to worry about), it sky rockets so high that I'm almost embarrassed it'll break her machine.
Today was my monthly OB appointment. That means that I tossed and turned for most of the night, unable to get much sleep at all. I watched the Headline News programs repeat themselves again and again until Robin Meade took over in the morning.
I tried to trick myself into believing I wasn't really worrying: I planned dinners for the week, thought about what I've been reading and the most interesting parts of the story...nothing worked, though. Nothing ever does.
I crawled out of bed at 7:30. I gave myself a face full of make-up. No, literally: skin primer, foundation, powder, eyeshadow base -- the works. My OB office is located right smack in the middle of Boca. These ladies who share a waiting room with me look like they're always about to walk a runway. They can be nine months pregnant but still glammed out in couture track suits or designer dresses with stiletto heels. Their hair is always blown out and styled just so and their make-up leads you to believe they just had it done prior to their appointment. They have nannies chasing around their other child or children and they sit there contently in the seats, reading Vogue and sipping on their $12 decaf lattes while never ever messing up their lipstick. For the first few months, there was me: barely out of my pajamas, my hair a mess, my skin broken out, a cup of Ginger Ale in one hand and a tube of Saltines in the other. I was constantly running to the bathroom to vomit and staggering my nauseous way back to wait. Now that I officially beat morning sickness, I make it my mission to at least put on make-up and share a lobby with dignity. It's a quest I can never win, considering I'll always be 9-inches shorter than these other woman and I don't know what to do with a hairdryer even if you were to give me one. I may go down in flames but, damn it, at least I try!
Today I arrived and shared an elevator with a woman who stood about 5'10" (10 inches taller than me!) with her perfectly formed baby bump and her perfectly designed dress (and stilettos). She smelled like perfume and fruity hair products and stared straight ahead and I climbed into the elevator like a lost child (albeit one with make-up!). I may have lived here my entire life but, damn it, I will forever fail at being a Boca Lady!
My doctor's appointment went well. I heard the baby's heartbeat play from the doppler and finally breathed that sigh of relief I've been longing to breathe. I start off my appointments shaky from nerves and leave feeling wobbly like gelatin with the soothing feeling of relief running through my body. On my way out, my wonderful OB reminded me that there are only NINE DAYS until we find out what Baby is. NINE DAYS until I know if I'm having a son or a daughter. The closer it gets, the more excited I get to find out.
Either way, this is one awesome Baby and I am already so proud to be his or her mom!
2.15.2011
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Girl, that's not what makes a woman beautiful... Don't try to "live up to them" because they're lives are not better. Live the better life and remember what REALLY makes a woman beautiful (its not expensive makeup and $12 lattes).
ReplyDeleteYou ARE beautiful and YOU have a gorgeous baby bump!
Anyway, don't let those ladies make you feel bad. I'm also waiting anxiously for my ultrasound, so excited too!
Thank you, the article is very petrifying
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