I haven't really been around this week. My baby shower was great, my friend's visit was wonderful, however, I had a really horrible doctor visit on Tuesday. I came this close to being admitted to the hospital because, after being left sit in the waiting room for too long, then put in a room for 45 minutes (the same room I fell asleep in a month or so ago, and was left in there for an hour), and then hearing the doctor have a 10 minute conversation with a pharmaceutical sales rep, in which they continued the conversation they've been having for the last 4 weeks about whether or not he wants pre-stamped prescription pads for whatever product the rep is touting (I think it's birth-control pills, but I'm not sure, and at this point, I don't care), when he got in the room, I was MAD. I know we have a language barrier, but he said some things to me that I don't particularly care for, and they were scary, and he told me not to cry because I was upsetting myself. UMMM . . . K. Our doctor-patient relationship has been deteriorating rapidly over the last month or so, and I can't put my finger on why, but I think it has something to do with the fact that he seems to think my pregnancy should be the central focus of the entire family, to the point where it's not unreasonable that my husband takes multiple days off a week to take me to doctor visits, and the fact that I understand that he can not keep the small business that keeps a roof over my pregnant head going missing this much work. It ended up that I got sent home, with an edict that I can not drive anymore, I am supposed to rest as much as possible, and that I have to go to the hospital tomorrow, apparently to speak to a perinatologist, but since I've been supposed to see the perinatologist since January, and all I seem to see is bills from them, I'll keep you posted.
Left-brain was HOT when he heard what happened, but he set right to work getting our plan together. He took all the little clothes I got down and washed them for me. He used a dryer sheet on them, which was not the best thing, but he was trying to help, and I wouldn't criticize him for the world. We packed her little bag for her to come home. I was only recommended to put 3 outfits in, but we chose 5 of each, just in case she needs options. He's going out tonight to get the rest of the things we need, in case we run out of time; there is something so charming, seeing this big, quick man moving through the baby department, looking at the tiny little lacy socks, saying things like, "Why is it all pink?" I feel horrible for making extra work for him, and I feel like I'm just causing one problem after another, but he said it's OK. He said even if her I did have to remind him that he has to read labels when cooking, because he made dinner with potato bread, and that is not good. He said, "But it was a good brand." Well, babe, still had sugar, LOL. He tries really hard. He is a good man, he will be a good father.
I was so upset Tuesday night that Left-brain said I should stitch, and I told him I didn't want to. I didn't feel like it. I got to feeling a little better last night and picked up Icy, but I didn't do too much. Still haven't worked myself up to it.