start at the very beginning, it's a very good place to start

Remember in my last post how I said I was puked out and never wanted to see vomit again? That didn't work out so well for me. But....that's another story. Just know that I lost that battle earlier this week.

Remember when I was preggers with Walter and I was in Labor and Delivery three times before I actually went into labor? And one of those stays got me admitted for three days? I'm sure it's all very clear in everyone's mind. :) The details aren't important, but the thing to take from this is that when we found out we were pregnant again and we made it through the first trimester without losing the baby, the first thing I said to myself was this: "I will NOT go into L & D unless this baby is hours away from leaving my womb. The end."

I put up a good fight. We made it almost 35 weeks without a single major hiccup. This morning, I lost that battle.

Now I love to laugh at life's little hiccups and I love a good pelvic exam...always jump starts my day. Really, it's better than any amount of caffeine injected into your system. I love seeing my doctor. He always puts a smile on my face and I know that he has the baby's best interests in mind. And when we have differing opinions I just mentally watch the attached video in my mind and let him have his way (because obviously, between the two of us, he's the one with the heart of a champion.)

This isn't a post to vent or complain about the annoyances of pregnancy. While I don't necessarily enjoy the last 10 weeks, I really love the end result. Best job ever. This isn't even a post to talk about what landed me in and out of the hospital in 75 minutes this morning. It's not important. The baby is healthy, I am healthy, and we haven't ended our contractual lease agreement yet.

I just want the world to be aware of how grateful I am for the small everyday blessings in life.

Tuesday afternoon I took Walter to his 18 month check-up. He was great. Minus being freaked out by the student nurse and her heart monitor, we didn't have any problems. He didn't even have to get any shots. At the end of the appointment, I mentioned in passing a rash that Walter has recently developed. It comes and goes and JL and I figured it was something that he was allergic to causing a minor reaction. It turned out that the rash was a sign that he was no longer in the contagious stage of Fifths Disease, a viral infection that does absolutely nothing to children or adults, but could cause miscarriage or severe anemia (in the fetus) if a woman comes in contact with it during pregnancy. A simple round of tests is all it takes to check, so we ended up hopping in the car and driving four blocks south to the lab at Orem Community to have the tests done. A prick, a fair amount of blood, and Walter and I could be on our way.
If you're familiar with OCH, then you know that to get to the lab, you first have to check-in with one of the wonderful women who work in the registration area. There are four of them in their separate offices and I've had the pleasure of enjoying the company of each of them in the last three years. I walked into the office and my helper of the day asked, "What can I do for you today?" Just as I was about to explain that I was here for a quick test in the lab, a small voice whispered in my ear, "You should probably pre-register today for Labor and Delivery."
Pre-registering was not what I wanted to do. Walter was tired and grouchy. I didn't particular want to wrestle with all of my insurance paperwork at that exact moment. I didn't want to go through all of my personal information, my husband's information, emergency contacts, etc. I wanted to get in and get out. But I pushed aside my stubborn nature and asked if I could pre-register. I took the twenty minutes out of my mostly mundane day and went on my merry way.
This morning when I waddled into Labor and Delivery, tired and grouchy, having lost the battle with my body, my sweet husband, and my OB, I didn't have to fill any paperwork out. I didn't even have to show them my picture id, they had it scanned and in the system. My OB had called ahead and I didn't even have to explain why I was there. All I had to do was answer "Yes" to the nurse's question of, "Are you Alison?" and waddle my way through the secure entrance and into a room.

I didn't know on Tuesday afternoon what my Friday morning was going to be like, but someone did. And He took the time to help me out as much as He could. I'm grateful for that little gift that helped get me through a very long morning at the end of a very long week.

And if you actually read this never ending post, here's a little gift for you. My OB, Dr. Wayne Young, competing as Captain of the Men's Olympic Gymnastic team in 1976.