I'm sitting in the waiting room at the CHUS ultrasound. A small problem in the placenta, since the echo morphology of 20 weeks, resulted in gynecology requested an echo of growth to ensure that the chicken swimming in my pool grows well.
I'm sitting on an uncomfortable chair. Before me, a young couple with smiles that would Crest drooling any advertising. I think they will land the jaw so they display an air of happy. We guess they come to meet their first bébé.Un other couple arrives. Worse another. It does not stop. It to believe that all couples the corner waiting for the passage of the stork. I smell the hormones of pregnant women to 100 miles around. Worse everyone smiles. Everyone.
I am always sitting on that chair so comfortable not too bad I'm getting a sore tailbone. The clock displays in front of me 30 minutes late to my appointment. I sigh of discomfort. I will find the receptionist who told me that the appointment of 14 h 30 is still not happened. My next chair is quick to tell me she was scheduled to ... 14 pm! Me my appointment was at 14 h is 45 and 15 h. .. Depressing.
I seem to be the only finds the time long. Who does not look like a child four years before his race track he has just unpacked for Christmas.
Frankly, I wonder. What am I doing here? What am I supposed to pick?
I feel like wasting my time.
Because I know that everything is A-1 panel behind my jeans. I know that # 3 is developing well. I know there is no need to worry. I know. I feel it.
My baby moves (too) well. My fundal height is within the standards. All the rest of the examinations is number 1 (pressure, heart rate, etc..).
So why? Why I'm worried with this damn echo?
Why I put in the hands of a gynecologist and a radiology technician, so my confidence at the far end of me, I know everything is going?
Why I do that? Why do I imagine a scenario of horror must draw my eyes when the technician will affix his machine on my belly buttered conductive gel? Why I'm already thinking about what I'll do my two other girls in the event that one should m'accoucher on the field because my # 3 shows a possible growth retardation? Why I imagine already rocking my baby that will connect from anywhere in Neonatal?
Ridiculous.
Completely stupid.
Some say it's nice to see images of his heir in his swimming pool. It makes things more concrete others will say.
No need for concrete with the blows it gives me the hips in the middle of the night. No need for concrete hiccups with it constantly.
No need concrete figures of the balance that continue to mount (they are an Olympic record?).
I know I have a tenant in the gut. Not need a rocket scientist to make it real!
Others say that it is better safe than sorry. To them, I say: "Maybe. But all these medical interventions are so upset with nothing too much for expectant parents. It encourages them to use their power of parents, their confidence in them aside in favor machines that plug into the wall. sorry. "
Want the best? The hen weighs between five and five and a half pounds, which would make a baby more than eight pounds at birth. Possible growth retardation, we said?
I knew that everything was perfect. Next time I will trust and I will spare my tailbone these chairs so uncomfortable.
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