Today's gyno visit revealed that I am having some contractions, but I don't really feel fuck all. I'll chalk that up to "high discomfort & pain tolerance" and hope that bodes well for labour. Upon examining me, the doc says that everything's still locked up tight, and in her opinion it'll be at least 15 more days.
We'll just let her continue percolating in there until she's good and ready to come out on her own.
As I was originally supposed to just drop by and show the doc my various test results, I was caught out when she wanted to do the exam - she had already prescribed me a round of antibiotics for some totally normal asymptomatic UTI stuff that Dr. Consultorio never bothered to follow up on...And true to Anxious Daddy Form, when we had gotten back the test results, Mon Amour was all freaking out googling and quizzing me.
"Do you have any burning or itching sensations?"
"No honey. Now stop Googling my vag."
So I bit my tongue really hard when she added some ampules as well "for a slight odor". Um, sorry Doc, I had sex this morning in spite of my normal "No hanky panky when you have to see the lady-parts doctor" because Mon Amour is very very talented and can easily convince sleepy ol' me that "Nah, she just wants to see the test results"
Whoops.
Also? These antibiotics are ENORMOUS. Horse pills. Good thing I don't have any problems swallowing, though we could argue that if I was better at it, I wouldn't be pregnant, har har.
Also got prescribed a rectal swab for strep b, which is apparently routine even if the vag swab came back negative for it. Why this couldn't have been done along with the original set of vag swabs, I have no idea. But Mon Amour has been tickled pink since I told him, leading to many puns and new song lyrics on the theme of his swabbing stick.
Side Note: Mon Amour has plans of getting all WAD (Weapons of Ass Destruction) post-partum, since I sort of put the kibosh on that for a while. Six months of constipation and not being able to get happily drunk will curb a girl's enthusiasm for said act, what can I say. Joking around in the car on the way home today also lead to the discovery that he has a box of expired condoms and an even more expired tube of vaseline under his driver's seat. "What can I say, this was my first private bedroom for a while..." I'm happy to report that I managed to not pee all over the seat from laughing for 5 minutes straight...
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