Road Warriors

Okay, as much as I'd like to launch right into my outdoor excursion to Perinatology, I must first discuss the Bay Bridge debacle. You know it is not good when while 3,000 miles away, a leading news story is that your hometown bridge is falling down. Maybe if they'd spent more than 70 hours repairing a flaw discovered in the bridge over Labor Day weekend, it wouldn't be falling apart right now. Well guess what - I haven't crossed that bridge since the "repair," and I'm not crossing it until they build a new bridge that f-ing functions and doesn't try to kill people.

Now, onto better things. Today was my big day out! I woke up at 7:45, raring to go to Perinatology. I didn't know what time my appointment was (turns out it was 11:30), so I wanted to make sure I was ready whenever they came calling. You would have thought I was getting ready for prom. In my mind, I looked hot - and I don't give a damn what anyone else thought. With my gold Tory Burch sandals (referred to by my 50-year-old Asian nurse as "bling bling") and grey sweater robe (thank you Kerry and Susan!), I was unstoppable. So what if the extent of my outdoor time was approximately 15 seconds on the trip there, looking out across an overpass? Brad and I remedied that on the way back - more on that in a moment.

So in theory, they sent me to Perinatology for an ultrasound because they have much more advanced equipment (the techs are also supposedly better since they specialize in ultrasounds for pregnancy). However, Brad and I saw no difference whatsoever between their machines and the machines I've been hooked up to here at the hospital. As for the tech...well, she asked me to wipe the goop off my belly with tissue paper such as that you might stuff in a gift bag. Enough said. I might also add that for whatever strange reason, the Perinatology office featured pregnant women who were either barely pubescent, or, um, too large for me to identify them as expectant mothers. WTF.

The results of the ultrasound were the best I've received so far. I was awarded a perfect biophysical profile score of 8/8 (I had been 6/8 previously, due to low levels of amniotic fluid). However, my fluid level was up to 6.4, deemed good enough to net me 100% (in truth, they probably graded me on a somewhat generous curve, but I'll take it). The baby's estimated weight is 3lbs 10 oz, which my doctor referred to as a "chub," and he has a big head. Apparently, his head circumference estimates that he is more than 33 weeks of age. On the other hand, his abdomen circumference suggests he is just over 30 weeks of age. That said, our baby apparently currently looks like Nicole Richie.

Since the trip across campus with the nurses limited me to such little outdoor time (I think they were too hot in the humid, 90-degree weather), Brad and I organized a coup for the return. They dropped me off and said that we should have the office call them to pick me up when I was done. Well, that just didn't seem necessary. So when we were done, we bolted. Totally off the grid for a good 10 minutes, Brad wheeled me around the perimeter of the campus, outside, past the water and palm trees. It was so freeing - a little Thelma and Louise, if you will, only Brad's not a woman. Anyway, when we returned, the nurses asked where we were and how we got back. So I lied - kind of. I lied and said that Perinatology sent us on our way, which is neither true nor false. They didn't know what we were supposed to do, so we told them we were supposed to leave - and then made them think it was their idea. Oldest trick in the book.

Waiting for me upon our return was a beautiful flower delivery, which I somewhat inappropriately identified as mine when I saw it on our way out. Brad explained there are other patients in the hospital. I explained I get all the gifts. We also enjoyed some company this afternoon - bless you, Marcos, for the magazines and that Cuban food!

And speaking of gifts...the Snuggie giver revealed herself to me today - thank you, Sonia, for the most original gift yet! You rock.

In home news, my regular nail salon now apparently knows the whole story of our Miami "vacation." My mother-in-law stopped in for a manicure, and was immediately identified as "the woman who belongs to the tall, attractive, black lady." She proceeded to tell the nail tech (Fong) what had happened, and Fong in turn translated the whole story in Vietnamese to the other employees. Gasps abounded and much drama unfolded. Can we just get this story on Oprah already?

Finally, I know that many of you have wondered just how Brad spends his days. I mean, it's one thing for me to be stuck on bed rest, but Brad? So, no...he spends tons of time with me (the majority), but does get out to do a little bit of work, go for runs, and occasionally visit friends. Today, on the recommendation of our visitor friend Marcos, he joined a running group. Rather than spend a lot of time explaining Raven Run, I urge you to just click on the link. Much like Flavor of Love, each runner to complete the 8-mile run is assigned a nickname by the group's 59-year-old leader. Brad's is "Bay Breaker" based on hailing from San Francisco and being stuck here because my water broke - get it? And his new friend from the group? A guy named "All American," because of a bad movie he was in and the fact that he was a "college athlete." All American will be a contestant on the next season of Millionaire Matchmaker.

Only in Miami.