And now, for a bit of backstory…

Or, why I haven’t been posting much.

We found out I was pregnant on November 13, then called the hospital to see what I had to do to come in and get bloodwork to confirm it. I was told if I had a positive urine test that I could come in. So I waited a few days until it was convenient, and—



So we made it on base a little before 9am. And since they’re doing construction, one entire parking lot is gone, which means I had to park in the very last row about 200 yards from the hospital. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but super annoying.

So apparently I’m in the Red group, but there’s nothing anywhere noting which section is Red and which is Blue, so I stop at the first Family Practice I see—assuming they’ll tell me if I need to go elsewhere or whatever. So I say I’m there for walk-in bloodwork for a pregnancy and she says “Have you had two positive urine tests here?” Um, no. I told her when I called the appointment line, I was specifically told that as long as I had a positive urine test at home, I could get the bloodwork. She says she’s sorry, but that’s NOT their policy, but they can do a urine test for me. Of course I was pissed. I tried not to be too bitchy, but I asked if there wasn’t anything they could do since 1) I was told something else on the phone and 2) I wanted to get OB involved ASAP since I’ve had a problem pregnancy before and wanted them to do whatever they could to make sure this one worked (and couldn’t they check my records?). (As a sidenote, as I’m talking to her, a coworker was calling [whoever] to tell them about the screw up with the appointment line rep to make sure it didn’t happen again.) So the lady asks if I’m high risk and I say actually, I probably am—they considered me high risk when I had [him] because of my age and thyroid issues, and I’m older now, so…I’m likely to be high risk again. So she doesn’t say anything but makes some motion which TO ME says she’s going to bypass it and let me get the bloodwork. She prints me something and directs me to the lab. I didn’t even think to look at the sheet.

So I get to the lab, take my numbers, and wait. I finally get called, hand him the paperwork, and he asks if I’m prepared to give a urine sample. Wait, what? No. I tell him it’s supposed to be bloodwork. Then I read the sheet and it clearly says urinalysis. Ugh. So the lady apparently led me to believe she was giving me bloodwork but gave me urinalysis and didn’t. even. tell. me. (No, she didn’t specifically tell me I was getting bloodwork, but after the entire discussion about my past and being high-risk, I assumed I was getting bloodwork—and she didn’t say either way.) So I tell him I’ve got to go back. Luckily Owen is a little rock star and just keeps playing with his cars and my phone.

So I go back to the first place and it’s the other girl (who has been making the phone call) and I say “Remember me? I thought this was supposed to be an order for bloodwork.” And then she’s all “Well this isn’t even YOUR clinic. You’re Red. This is Blue.” I ask where the signs are and how I’m supposed to tell—did I miss something?” No, she tells me, we were just doing you a favor so you didn’t have to [go 20 yards farther down the hall to your correct clinic]. Like I was putting her out or something. So off we went.

So we get to the correct RED clinic and have to start from scratch with this lady. I retell the ENTIRE story (Blue clinic visit, appointment phone call, bloodwork that was really urinalysis, failed pregnancy, high risk) and all I get is “Well, our policies are two in-house positive urine tests before bloodwork.” I just wanted to scream HAVE YOU HEARD ANYTHING I’VE BEEN SAYING? To her credit, she said she’d ask a nurse. So I waited and waited. Then she came back and said a nurse should be up in a minute.

In the meantime I asked if I could make an appointment for Owen since he missed his 30-month well-visit and I was pretty sure he needed some vaccine updates. So she tells me he shouldn’t need anything until he’s FOUR and throws a sheet of paper at me with their vaccine schedule. So as I’m trying to read his vaccine chart (via Dropbox on my phone so it’s super tiny and I’m not even sure what I’m looking for!), she says “How about Monday, November 21 at 11?” So she caught me off guard by wanting to make an appointment before I was sure he needed one, then she was all “You’ll have to call to cancel if he doesn’t need it.” And I said, surprised, “Did you schedule it already? I’m still looking to see if he needs it.” And she said No, I’m just waiting on you. All snotty. SERIOUSLY? I finally found that all he needs is a flu shot, so I told her that, thinking I could either take that appointment or they might be able to do it right then. Yeah, no. She tells me they can’t do flu shots until he’s four…but I can go out in town and get one. What? WHAT THE HELL? A military hospital can’t give a toddler a flu shot? If there was some other extenuating circumstance, they certainly didn’t tell me. So now I’m pissed about that on top of everything else.

So then the nurse comes out and signs the form giving me the okay for bloodwork and the snotty lady enters it into the computer and you can tell she’s rolling her eyes while doing it. REALLY? The little old grandma-like lady was a bitch.

The rest of the time there was just fine—the lab techs (who were awesome to Owen) and even waiting for Tom’s scripts. But I am sure my blood pressure was SKY HIGH anyway. (And we were leaving the hospital parking lot 2 1/2 hours after we got there. Ugh.)

And THIS is why I wanted an in-town doctor for both of us. Because I >:XX hate the hospital. Something always pisses me off when I have to go there.


—the following day I got a call that yes, I was pregnant—due July 24, 2012.

So, we had plans for lots of family to be visiting over the upcoming month, but kind of wanted to not tell them because 1) it was still REALLY early (only five weeks) and 2) we wanted to surprise them with the news when we came up for Christmas.

But…my mom and David were the first to visit (the few days before Thanksgiving, on their way to Atlanta to see the Filipeks) and…HOW COULD I NOT TELL MY MOM? 88| So we told them and they were super excited. Unfortunately, after they left and Tom’s mom and brother arrived, I started feeling crappy. Like, seriously crappy. I tried to hide it for a few days—but then it just kept getting worse, so we finally broke down and told them, too. By the end of their week-long visit, I was in pretty bad shape. Incapacitated, even.

I call it the Yucks™ (I suppose it’s morning sickness—which is realy all-day sickness—without any barfing). I had it with Owen, but not nearly this bad or this early. The best I can describe it is that all at once and all day long you feel like:

  1. You just ate a too-big meal.
  2. You are a little hungry.
  3. You have a big ball of nervousness weighing on your chest.
  4. You have a hangover.
  5. You are mentally exhausted.
  6. You are physically exhausted.

I seriously just sat on the couch or in bed like a zombie and wished someone would knock me out until July. Nothing I ate (or didn’t eat) made any difference. No amount of sleep made any difference. I had no energy to do anything simple like post to my blogs, let alone cook or pick up the house. I lost about 8# during the two worst weeks. Thankfully, my dad and Linda were total rock stars, playing with and taking care of Owen, helping put up Christmas decorations, and taking care of laundry, cleaning, and meal prep for the two weeks they were here. I did help out the few hours and or random day when I felt better (YucksLite™ ) but it was few and far between.

We actually momentarily debated NOT going to Michigan for Christmas because I felt so bad…but figured I might as well feel bad where there were other people to help out with Owen. :) I’m so glad we did go, because Owen had a great time staying at Gramma Jean and Grandpa David’s house, visiting with the Len cousins and Schwalm cousins (he now knows the word COUSINS!), and seeing Grandma Marsha and Uncle Rob (Grob) for a bit. I did have a few decent days, but for the most part, I was still dealing with the Yucks™.

So, at this point, seven weeks after we found out…I still feel like crap. Needless to say it’s been a LONG seven months weeks and there have been many, many times I’ve just felt like crying because I’m SO tired of feeling this way. The first trimester is almost over, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that most of this goes away. Of course, then other fun stuff is bound to appear (like I’m already experiencing gas, bloating, burping, and minor reflux in addition to the Yucks™ ). Of course, my friends all say that being this sick means it’s either a girl—or twins. I’ve disowned the people that have mentioned twins.

Oh! I almost forgot! Another lovely naval hospital story… |-|

After a two-day wait for the general practice office to offically refer me to OB, I had to call and schedule the first ultrasound appointment pretty quickly. Easy, right? The first opening they had was like December 21. I told her that there was a 99% chance we’d be on vacation then, so if there was ANY way to get it even a few days earlier, that would be great. Nothing doing, no way no how, that’s the absolute earliest you can come in. Now, I understand they have to wait a certain number of weeks to be able to get a heartbeat, but I really don’t think a few days earlier would be the breaking point (it wasn’t like I was asking for two weeks early or something). But she does tell me that if I do find out for sure that we aren’t going to be here, to call back and they will try to get me in earlier. Wait, what? Just a minute ago it was no way, no how…but now you’re telling me to call back and you’ll try to get me in? Ugh. So, fine. So when we had decided we were going to Michigan (granted, only about a week before the scheduled appointment), I called and told the lady what I wanted (and I know it was the same lady—I recognized the voice) she immediately became snotty and said “WHO TOLD YOU THAT?” I wanted to say “It was you—I remember you” but I didn’t. Yeah, they can’t get me in that soon at all and wouldn’t even take my name down for a cancellation. The next available appointment was almost three weeks later. Really? Oh, and they’re only in the morning. And I can’t bring Owen with me. And suddenly she tells me that I need to be prepared to be there for 2-3 hours for labwork and a visit with the nurse. WHAT? Since when? You’d think they’d tell me all this the FIRST time I called to schedule the appointment. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. So I had no ultrasound to show anyone at Christmas. And I’m keeping my fingers crossed that everything goes well Friday…though it’s the naval hospital, so I’m sure something will piss me off.

So…thus far…this hasn’t been an enjoyable or exciting experience for me. I’m really hoping things get better.

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