Something has come up
It was my last appointment with Dr Happy Frankfurter today. After the usual pokes and prods, she wished me well, offered me her usual bone-crushing handshake (her last, I presume) and gave me my notes to take with me when I go into labour.
I stuffed them in the back of the pram and forgot about them. On the way to nursery, I had a look. And there it was. The sex of our baby. The very thing we had told her at each appointment that we didn't want to know.
OK, some perspective now. It is a total gift to have one child, let alone be pregnant with a second. I can't imagine what it must be like to not be able to conceive or have a child with disabilities or cancer - life has been very good to me, and I know in the scheme of things, this is absolutely not a disaster. And HF is a good doctor, I have had excellent treatment, and she is a nice woman. But that was unprofessional and I am a bit upset.
So upset, I finished my last siroopwaffle. Now that is a catastrophe.
PS Please don't ask what s/he is. At least the rest of the world can still be surprised.
5 Comments:
I agree - I think that's wrong. There's very little that can be guaranteed and controlled with medical procedures, so you would hope that the things that can be controlled should be. And how can you have allowed yourself to run out of siroopwaffle.
Oh lovey I'm sorry. That is disappointing. I intend to be very very very excited about the surprise element surrounding your birth. And also, your Doc could still be wrong??
Thanks. I feel a bit like someone opened my Christmas present before Christmas day. I am going to write her a letter I think, but I need to calm down a bit more first.
Lovely girl, you always had your gut instinct. I will be gob-smackingly surprised on your behalf, I promise. Naughty Frankfurter, did you tell Switzergent? If there's ever another Lobster Child, I promise not to find out just for you. Mwah! x
We always knew the sex of our kids. Well, kinda sorta :-) - we just never found good girl names when it was going to be a boy, or good boy names when it was going to be a girl.
And of course we almost religiously avoid most of the tests they force on mothers as if pregnancy was a dangerous disease.
Post a Comment
<< Home