The Third Visit.

Continued from: The System.

Visit number 3, 22nd week of pregnancy:

Shin and I burst into the waiting room. This time minus the sweat from our previous visits, it is the middle of October after all. As per our last two visits I am freaking out because we've probably missed the 11:30 cut off. Again we we make it by the skin of our teeth and for the second visit in a row we've already been to the checker-inner machine.

I am determined that this visit will go better than the last one.

Weight, check. Again no need to lie, yeah prenatal yoga! Urine sample, check. Blood pressure...

...machine approached with caution. On the first go my blood pressure is between the dreaded numbers on the sign. BUT! All on my own, without anyone reminding me, I scrap the first results and try again. Second time lucky. Everything is filed away in my plastic folder.

Next step, the baskets.

Again approached with caution. Upon close inspection there is a sign on each basket. Basket 1: Nervous Freaky Doctor (the guy we had last time). Basket 2: No preference. Basket 3: Doctor Tamura. Is that her? We can't remember. BUT! Rather than chance it, Shin kindly asks the nurse that has been watching us scrutinize the baskets if this one belongs to our regular doctor. BINGO!

Exhale.

We take a seat at the back of the room where it doesn't matter if Shin snores when he passes out. The poor man has only slept for a couple of hours after finishing work. The wait begins.

Thirty minutes in, toilet trip number one.

Fifty-five minutes in, toilet trip number two.

An hour and thirty minutes in, toilet trip number three. Sigh. For the last hour The Bean has been pummeling my bladder nonstop. Let's hope that there is this much action during the ultrasound. And then...

"平野さん！"

NOOOOOOOO.

We had done so well.

As the nurse approaches she is wearing a kind smile, nothing like the death stare from last time. Then she lays it on me, apparently the ultrasound machine in Doctor Tamura's examination room is not working. Not again! My first instinct is to lose grip on reality and freak out. Maybe toss a sofa through the window. BUT! I pull myself together and wake Shin from his slumber so that he can talk to the nurse who, by the way, is still smiling but looks very nervous. Seems that I've misunderstood, the machine is working but they are unable to give us a picture to take home. Whatever, let's just get on with it.

We wait for another thirty minutes and are called to exam room two. I'm suddenly giddy, this is the day we find out if we are playing for team pink or team blue. Enter the cheerleaders, "Go Hiranos Go!"

Our lovely doctor is waiting with the ultrasound machine fired up and ready to go. Resisting the urge to hug her, I hop up on the bed and moments later we are listening to the heartbeat in surround sound and watching The Bean chillin' in utero. Now, when I say 'chillin' I mean it.

Fast asleep.

Back to the camera.

I'm not sure if it was the utterly pathetic way I squeaked out, "Boy or girl? Today?" or that Doctor Tamura had witnessed the brief moment when I considered tossing a sofa through the window. Either way, the woman ultrasounded like her life depended on it. A silence descended on the room.

...

...

...

Maybe.

Maybe it's a...

Maybe it's a boy.

IT'S. A. BOY!

Tears flow. Visit number three is a success.

Baby boy belly at 22 weeks and 1 day.

The System.

Now that Shin and I had secured our place at the hospital of my dreams (did I mention that they only do private rooms) we began our regular hospital visits. To start, we are scheduled to make an appearance every four weeks. At each visit I have to check in downstairs with my hospital card at an automatic 'checker-inner' machine, weigh myself, check my blood pressure, submit a urine sample, pop everything into a plastic folder (minus the urine sample) and place it in one of the three baskets on the counter. Sounds easy. And it probably is easy.

But not for us.

Visit number 1, 14th week of pregnancy:

Shin and I burst into the waiting room dripping with sweat, me freaking out because we've probably missed the 11:30 cut off. I start taking off my shoes so that I can weigh myself when I hear "平野さん！" (Hirano-san)

Bugger, we've forgotten to check in at the checker-inner machine downstairs.

Shin gallantly offers to go back downstairs and do it for me, a.k.a escaping his hormonal, bitching wife for a cigarette, and leaves me to get on with things. Weight, check. Urine sample, check. Blood pressure...

...machine broken. With my arm still in it.

Luckily Shin reappears and saves me from having my arm torn off by the blood pressure machine. He calmly pushes the reset button and I finish up. I put everything into the plastic folder, toss it onto the counter and flake out on the first white leather sofa I can find (so many to choose from).

"平野さん！"

The nurse points to a sign on the blood pressure machine that says if my reading is over a certain number then I have to do it again. And with the sweetest smile ever, she tells me that the file goes in one of the three baskets, not on the counter.

After an hour we are called in to see our lovely doctor and get to hear our baby's heartbeat for the first time. I burst into tears and Shin lets out a gasp of fatherly pride. Although there are a few minor slip-ups, visit number one is a success.

Visit number 2, 18th week of pregnancy:

Shin and I burst into the waiting room dripping with sweat, me freaking out because we've probably missed the 11:30 cut off, but this time we've already been to the checker-inner machine.

Hiranos: 1, Hospital: 0

I start peeling off layers in order to weigh myself, all the while thinking that if it came down to it I could just write down any old number I like. Luckily, I don't need to. Thank you NVP. Weight, check. Urine sample, check. Blood pressure, check.

Hiranos: 4, Hospital: 0

Everything is filed neatly into the plastic folder and handed to the nurse behind the counter.

"平野さん！"

"Did you pay your 50,000 yen deposit downstairs?"
Oops, we forgot.
Shin heads back down, fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket as he exits the room.

Hiranos: 4, Hospital: 1

"平野さん！"

"Please check your blood pressure again."
The sign on the blood pressure machine that says if my reading is over a certain number then I have to do it again is pointed to.

Hiranos: 4, Hospital: 2

"平野さん！"

"Please remember to put your folder in a basket on the counter. Please do not hand it to a nurse."
No smile this time.

Hiranos: 4, Hospital: 3

Shin gently takes the folder from the nurse, drops it into a basket and nudges me towards the sofas. The ones waaaay at the back.

"平野さん！"

"Did you fill out the blah blah blah papers?"
She hands me a pen and clipboard, knowing that I haven't. 
ARGH! At this point I am fully prepared to stab the nurse with the pen. Shin steps in and handles the situation by clearing away all sharp objects in my general vicinity. 

4 : 4 all.

After an hour we are called in to see our lovely doctor. But wait!? Who the hell is this dude? Where is my wonderful English speaking doctor? Turns out that the basket Shin had placed our folder in was for patients that do not have a preference as to which doctor examines them.

GAH! I have a preference.

Hiranos: 4, Hospital: 5

At this point, things go from bad to worse. Fancy schmancy ultrasound machine is broken. Pre WWII ultrasound machine wheeled in. Doctor can't get a clear image of anything but the baby's leg. Doctor unable to tell us the gender of the baby. Doctor decides to print out a picture of the baby's leg. There is no printer hooked up to the ancient machine. I burst into tears and Shin lets out a gasp of frustration. Visit number two a fail.

Hiranos: 4, Hospital: 11

Stay tuned to find if the Hiranos can make a comeback in Hospital visit number 3...

White.

I love white. Stark white walls and white furniture all brought together with the warmth of teak accents. Serenity. Visions of my dream house.

WERE visions of my dream house.

I realize that white is just not a suitable environment for raising children in, unless you are happy to part with your sanity. On the other hand when the white belongs to someone else, then why not?

The time came for Shin and I to choose the hospital where we would have our baby. Actually, the time had passed, even though we were receiving daily reminders from the in-laws. With the scratch on the bumper a moot topic, they were again kind enough to lend us their car so we could go out and stalk some hospitals. We got a list from the city health insurance office, programmed the 10 places closest to where we live into the navigation, and we were off (with Shin driving of course)!

Too far. Too old. Too big. Too small. Too unfriendly. Too sunny. Too dirty. Too pink.

And then there were two.

The two places left on our list were very different. One was a large hospital while the other was a very small private maternity clinic. At that point I was leaning towards the small clinic, I liked the idea of having the same doctor for each visit and going to a place that was specifically in the business of bringing babies into the world. From home we did a little bit more stalking of the clinic via the Internet and discovered that they had their very own Ninja Doctor. I guess he's not really a ninja but perhaps he'd like to be.  The spiel he'd written describing his theories on pregnancy and birthing were all based on martial arts. In my world kendo, jujitsu and karate don't seem to have much to do with giving birth.

And then there was one.

As we were on our way to check out the final hospital I was so nervous. What if it also had ninja doctors? What if we had missed the window, and they were already booked up for February births? What if the outside was deceiving and it too was decked out in Pepto Bismol pink? I could barely breathe as we walked through the automatic doors...

A reception room full of white leather sofas and dark walnut coffee tables.

Exhale.

On top of the reception room of my dreams they have a wonderful English speaking doctor and midwife. I plan to bring our child here on play dates.

Oh, and we were the last February birth to be booked in.

Pregnancy Brain.

The fine people at WebMD define pregnancy brain (or momnesia) as a "deficit in memory" that occurs during pregnancy. There are several reasons for this phenomenon, including lack of sleep (check), priority changes (check) and of course the raging hormones that marinate the brain of a pregnant woman on a daily basis (oh lordy check!).

I've heard of, and seen this in some of my pregnant friends, having a little giggle at their stories of misplaced remote controls and milk cartons. Now that I'm experiencing it myself, I'd like to take back those giggles and replace them with hugs. Oh ladies, I am so, so sorry!

From here I could begin a list of the things that I have misplaced, found, misplaced again and in some cases lost forever but I could seriously go on for hours - in the meantime forgetting what I'm writing about and giving up in frustration. So for my sanity, and yours good reader, I will stick to one item.

My Keys.

 

Yes, that is a picture of my keys in the cat food dish.

My keys have also appeared under sofa cushions, in kitchen cupboards, been rescued from the washing machine an the refrigerator. We've had a neighbour knock on the door to tell me that I'd left them in the lock, and a pizza delivery guy hand them to me along with the medium that we'd ordered.

Twice now I've left the key to Scoopy Doo in the ignition. Once while I was inside a book store and the second time for the entire day while I was at work. Bless the honesty of Japanese people! As a side note, last night I did remember to remove the key from the ignition but then proceeded to go from the parking lot to the elevator, from the elevator to our apartment and was safely deposited in the entrance before I realized that I was still wearing my helmet. Oh the shame.

In the beginning these little slips made me laugh but now I'm getting worried. Believe it or not, the actual volume of a pregnant woman's brain cells DECREASE during the third trimester! Does this mean that pregnancy will have left me not only with stretch marks, but also mentally deficient!?

If I can't keep track of a simple thing like my keys, how am I supposed to keep track of a human? I have nightmares of watching my child rolling down a giant hill in their stroller because I've forgotten to put on the breaks. Or seeing them wave 'bye-bye' to mommy as the train departs the station and I'm stuck on the platform.

Luckily, my research into pregnancy brain has confirmed that a few months after giving birth, my brain cells will plump back up and I will return to my usual self.

Sigh of relief.

In the mean time, in case you were wondering, here's where the cat food went while keys were in the dish...

The Girls.

A comment from Shin:

"DD is very big."

A man of few words but he tells it like it is.

Long before my waistline exploded (although if I am being 100% honest, it exploded years before I got pregnant...sigh, never mind) my boobs doubled in size. This happened over a very painful, and rather itchy 2 week period. I was well aware of what was going on, but didn't really acknowledge it until I caught a high school boy looking down my shirt on the train.

High school boys are lechy at the best of times, so I didn't think much of it when I caught him taking in an eye-full. From past experiences, a bit of eye contact is usually enough to cause them to blush and change cars, but not with this kid. I swear he was like one of those dogs in Saturday morning cartoons with his tongue hanging out and his eyes bulging, AOOOOGA!

I decided to ignore him, maybe he was actually just a kid that looks like a cartoon dog, and continue reading my book. As my stop approached I stood up and caught a glimpse of my reflection in window. The first words that popped into my head:

Porn star.

Somewhere between work and the train station I had unknowingly popped a button and become my new alter ego, Chesty McJugsalot. Seriously, there were boobs everywhere.

Using the twist tie from the extra bag you always get with your baguette, I MacGyver'd my shirt closed for the ride home. Through fits of laughter (which caused the twist tie to fly across the room) I told Shin about my adventure, to which he simply responded "DD is very big".

An Ode to the Tomato.

No matter how bad my morning sickness got, there was one thing that stuck with me through thick and thin. Darling tomato, this is for you...

Dear tomato, fresh and bright,
I could eat you both day and night.

In salads, and sauces, ketchup too,
Sweet tomato, I love you.

When I can't have you, I feel so low.
My lovely tomato, where did you go?

Vegetable or fruit? Who cares in the least.
I am only happy when upon your flesh I can feast.

Dear tomato, fresh and bright,
This thing we've got just feels so right.

Sliced on toast each morning when I wake,
A party in my mouth no other can make.

Organic, or cherry. Tinned, or paste.
You are the only food that I want to taste.

At times indigested you make me feel,
But when you sit on my fork I want to squeal!

Dear tomato, fresh and bright,
You are the thing that I crave with all my might.

NVP.

Sometime around the beginning of July I was prowling the Net looking for someone to blame for the misnomer 'morning sickness', when I came across this little dandy: NVP. Nausea, vomiting of pregnancy. Although, not as catchy as morning sickness it seemed to better sum up my symptoms, which were nausea all day everyday, and vomiting whenever my body damn well felt like it.

For most of July and August.

Gross.

I realize that morning sickness is not something most people want to hear about in great detail, but there were some things that surprised me about this phase of pregnancy that I feel I must share. So, dear reader, you are now entering the point of no return....

The Top 5 Things That Made Me Toss My Cookies

#5 Costco
I think it might have been the smell of several meaty free samples being fried up at once that did me in every time. But where else can you buy soda crackers by the case?

#4 The bathroom at work
As you can imagine, this was very inconvenient. My ever expanding uterus meant that the need to visit the bathroom spiked, but every time I opened the door the urge to pee was replaced by the urge to vomit. In the bathroom's defense, it is extremely clean and in no way offensive. However, it isn't air conditioned and has no ventilation. Those of you that have experienced Japan in August, know how hot that room must have been. Which brings me to number 3...

#3 The heat
Or maybe it was the humidity. Probably it was a combination of both. It doesn't really matter but the second I overheated, up came what ever I had last eaten. Overheating happens a lot during the summer in Japan. It was about this time that I gave up vacuuming our apartment.

#2 The smell of cooking
I think that this is the standard for most women in the throes of NVP. So, I would like to take this time to thank my wonderful husband for humoring me and eating sandwiches for dinner.

Every night.

For weeks on end.

xo xo xo

#1 Brushing my teeth
Again, very inconvenient. How does one get rid of vomit breath? Of course by brushing your teeth. How did I get vomit breath in the first place? By brushing my teeth. A disgusting cycle to be sure.

Luckily, the NVP stage is pretty much over. Shin and I are back to cooking dinner and I can line up with the rest of the shoppers for treats at Costco. There are still times when I am brushing my teeth that I have to stop mid-way and race for the toilet, but those are decreasing as well.

Thank God.