I have class. Truly.

And I thought B'Spears was bad.



But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

Prenatal class yesterday. Rather large waste of my time, although I did learn two new things:

(1) I will not be getting an ultrasound nearly early enough to pacify my psychosis.
(2) I will be getting one at my next appointment, Dec 19

The hospital where my clinic is located has an interesting way of doing things. All new OB patients are enrolled in this class prior to their first appointment, whether they are newly pregnant or just transferring in. As a result of that, there was a girl who was enrolled for this class who is due......... next week.

She got out of attending the class.

I did not.

I sat through the entire thing although I started to squirm (a lot) when they got about halfway through the "what to expect at your appointment" lecture. Because, dammit, sitting there listening to what might/will happen at my thirty-six week appointment felt awfully like tempting the fates.

I filled out reams of paperwork including the required psychological pre-screen which included such true/false questions as "I find myself worrying ALL the time" and "I am often unrealistically afraid".

Oh yeah, I so totally failed that test. The nurse-instructor made sure to emphasize to me that there is a social worker affiliated with the clinic who will be available to speak with me at any point.

Puh-lease, there's ultrasound techs also, but I don't see them lining up to soothe my paranoia... and dammit, they're the ones who I want to see.

She mentioned the nutritionist also, and it took all my willpower not to blurt out "jackass". Real mature, me. Hey, I'd have done that cough-jackass-cough thing. Oh wait, that's probably less mature, huh?

I didn't get my appointment date til the very end of (the two-freaking-hour) class, and by then I had to pee so badly that it didn't occur to me until after I left that December 19 is not a great time for my next ultrasound. As I was sprinting towards a bathroom I realized (as any truly psychotic fertility-challenged would) oh shit - that could make for one rotten Christmas if things go badly.

I still haven't gotten the hang of this optimism thing.

Maybe after the next ultrasound ... ?