Ahhh Bob bob bob...bob bob (ara ann...)

The fetus formerly known as Bob, (and now known as a collection of different names which he is trying on for size), was given a glowing report of good health by both of his OBs - his heartbeat is kicking right along and his weight was estimated at 13 ounces, pretty much spot on where he's supposed to be.

I am also in fine fettle, introducing myself to the receptionist this morning, when she asked for my name, as "M______...first name, Awesome."

She grinned and said, "Middle name, Congratulations?"

Unfortunately we then had a nurse who looked a little bit like Taylor Swift only with zero personality. She spoke in a monotone, refused to rise to any of my hilarious comments, and - worst of all, reacted with confusion when she told me to go into the examination room after I handed her a urine sample, and I said, "Do you think I should go get my husband first?"

She said, after giving it some thought, and a furrowed brow, "If you want him in there with you, sure?"

I rolled my eyes at her and went and got Sandy.

Then she made me get up on the scale. I climbed up and began confidently moving the sliding weights around, because I'd weighed myself the previous night at home and had a fairly good idea of where I was. Only apparently, my "fairly good idea of where I was" in terms of weight was 200 lbs.

No. Lie.

I moved the big sliding weight confidently and briskly to the 200 lb mark. I fiddled with it a bit, and even said, "that's 200, right?" The nurse confirmed that yes, that was where the 200 mark was. But then she said, "Um...but you aren't 200 lbs."

What. The. Fork.

Evidently that's how I see myself, you guys. Even though I know that's not what I weigh!!! I mean I wasn't even thinking, I just climbed up and immediately moved the slider to 200, and was confused that the bobbing bit remained obstinately down. I KNEW that when I weighed myself last night, I weighed 142 lbs. But for some reason, my brain short-circuited at 200. Talk about your body dysmorphia.

Then at the end of the exam I walked out and left my coat. Pregnancy brain is no joke.

In other news, Sandy and I had our very first Birthing Preparation Class last night. Complete with him sitting against a wall and me sitting between his legs, exactly like in this picture I just found on the internet. Only I'm not that big yet.

I'm the earliest in the class, at only 21 weeks - most of the peeps in there are due in March and April. I felt like a total over-achiever when I had to say my name and when I'm due. It definitely did not help that one of the young women in there with me is 7 months along and exactly the same size as me.

Doom.

But whatever! My doctor says my weight gain is fine. I'm fine. 200 lbs is just fine. I mean, 142 lbs. It's fine.

Also, freakily, 4 out of the 6 couples are expecting a boy, and one couple doesn't know yet. Leaving just 1 girl. Maybe it's something in the water?

Our teacher made us all swear a non-disclosure agreement, so I'm not allowed to tell you any of the things that were discussed by the other couples in the class. Which is sort of a shame because I was in full nervous autowitter last night, and made an ass of myself at least three times.

Though I suppose if I don't mention any names or where I'm taking these classes, etc, I could maybe get away with telling you that at one point, the teacher said she has an issue with a few aspects of the birthing video we were about to watch. Chiefly, that at the end of one birth, the doctor brings the placenta up to the mother, in a rubbermaid tub, so she can see it.

Our teacher said, "I've never seen a doctor do that, ever." And I piped up with, "Some people EAT it!"

In my head, I was thinking that you know, maybe it's like at a nice restaurant where you can specify the cut of steak you want and they bring it out to you raw so you can approve it before they cook it. Or a lobster, you know? But I didn't explain my reasoning, all I said was "some people eat it!" and I must have sounded utterly squicked out by the whole idea, because AFTER class one of the other pregnant women came up to me to explain exactly why she intends to eat hers.

I attempted to tell my nice-restaurant-steak theory to her, but I think I just came out sounding even more insane and callously unfeeling. I'm pretty sure she and I aren't going to be best friends. Especially after, (now full of remorse for my gaffe), I went on to reference certain cannibalistic tribes who eat their dead to show respect and share his or her strength amongst the rest of the group. There are probably certain situations where one should keep their anthropological knowledge to themselves.

Not sure, however, if this was worse than me advising one of the other women who happened to be in the restroom for a potty break at the same time that I was, and was suddenly struck with performance anxiety, to "think of waterfalls. Not TLC's Waterfalls...regular waterfalls."

*headdesk*

I'm going to make Sandy gag me with a handkerchief for the next class.