Baby/Mama Drama, or the Lack Thereof

If this pregnancy has been characterized by anything, it's a distinct lack of drama. Sure, you could chalk my lack of pregnancy-related posts up to the fact that the blog is about three years old, and I post less often. Or it could be that we haven't had a new ultrasound appointment every four weeks. Or that no one has flipped out about this kid being too big, or too small, or not having enough room, or whatever other thing will drive us nuts for a few days. And that lack of drama isn't coming from us. Hollie and I were fully prepared to indulge in every crazy swing of medical opinion the second time around.

Thankfully, the docs at Penn Medicine seem to be largely sane, reasonable people who don't freak us out every other appointment.

That is, until yesterday, when a slightly overzealous, overly excitable student midwife sent us to the hospital when Hollie said that maybe, perhaps, possibly she's felt our son kick moderately less frequently than he had been doing in the previous few weeks.

Evidently, according to the midwife we've been seeing most frequently, the magic words are "less frequently." So off we went to the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania.

It should be said: As much as we hoped to just be on our way after this routine appointment, there were significant advantages to a brief sojourn at the hospital, such as:

1. I haven't actually been to this hospital before, despite its location about four blocks from my office. Much like our one-week-from-the-end false alarm during LG's time in Casa de Hollie, it let us preview the hospital at a slightly less stressful time.
2. I now know where to park. Score.
3. I now know where the maternity ward is located.
4. I now know where the visitor's lounge is located.
5. I now know where to get Potbelly subs.
6. I now, finally, have an ultrasound picture of our son.

Boom.

It's hard to tell if he's sucking his thumb or trying to punch the ultrasound wand in the face.

The hospital monitored the baby's heartrate, Hollie's heartrate, and the sporadic contractions she's been feeling for almost two weeks. Following those tests, she had an ultrasound. It should be said, the purpose of this ultrasound was NOT so we could get a picture. But I wasn't going to pass up the chance to grab one, and the tech helpfully obliged. Many thanks, goofy HUP ultrasound tech!

Oh, did I mention the tech was a little weird? Yeah, we had a nice little chat about Obama's mother, anthropology, the tech's family who lives in Kenya (the tech was Caucasian, it should be noted), the fact that she thinks amniotic fluid viewed via ultrasound looks like a star-filled sky, and other things I'm totally forgetting because the conversation was all over the place.

All in all, the trip to the hospital took about two hours and cost us $7 for parking. But we got a picture and a hospital preview, so whether or not it was absolutely necessary, it was totally worth it.