I am a brilliant typo-ist!!! I was leaving a comment on a blog and meant to write “perspective”, but my fingers typed “peerspective”. Tell me that shouldn’t be a word?! Come on, you know it should! Sometimes the outlook of our peers, their peerspective, affects our perspective. It’s definitely worthy of being considered as an entry to the dictionary.
This part of the post will be serious and maybe merits a post of its own, but it’s on my mind right now so it’s going to make an appearance here.
I am 29 weeks pregnant. It has not been a smooth pregnancy simply because I am constantly worried about the well-being of the baby. I feel fine physically, but the baby has had issues with kidney development and low amniotic fluid. I went in for my latest check up. This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing a doctor since I was 17 weeks and the problems were first diagnosed. It’s good not to be going in so often, it means things are trending toward better.
The result of this check up is a continued trend toward better. The amniotic fluid is higher than it has ever been. The baby’s left kidney and bladder seem to be doing a great job. The baby’s right kidney is pelvic and “disorganized” and will have to be assessed after birth. The baby seems to be growing and doing just fine.
So why do I feel so unbelievably deflated when things really seem to be going well? Because even at this point the specialist says to me, “I am cautiously optimistic about the baby’s survival”. He says it like it’s a good thing, but to me it sounds just awful. Seriously, “cautiously optimistic about…survival” is not what I want to hear.
The doctor wanted to know if I would like to speak to an urologist about what will happen after the baby is born. I said no. At this point, we don’t know exactly what is going on with the right kidney and I just don’t need to discuss options that may or may not happen. I know how I am and I will manage to focus on the worst case scenarios. I’d rather wait until the baby is born and then go from there.
Every time I go to the doctor, I am so drained that I come home and pass out. I would sleep away the rest of the day if I could.
And now your Friday Fortune Cookie (don’t forget to add “in bed” at the end, if you are so inclined):