The Fetus formerly known as the Tadpole #11

Like pool comps, horse races and band-aid removal, a quick one's a good one.
Here we are in week 28, which means it's time to visit the Clinic 9 waiting room again for a couple of hours of morning TV and old magazines, interspersed with a few medical specialists.

The wait really wasn't too bad this time 'round, and it was the first chance I've had to catch my mate Clare's newish spot on the Today Show (hello Madgie!). I was one of the early birds, and after dutifully filling my little yellow cup, I was only second in the queue to see a midwife.

Blood pressure was a delightfully normal 120/80, which made me very happy indeed. Even my weight wasn't too shabby - I've popped on a tidy eight kilos in six months. Using the standard packet-of-mince conversion method, that's really only one big serve of spag bol a week! Not bad, not bad, not bad, not bad...

The midwife sent me back to my seat with a fizzy glucose drink, to be consumed an hour before a standard blood test to determine whether or not I have gestational diabetes. I had heard that the elixir was quite disgusting in its sweetness, but this version was no sweeter than your average soft drink, and it produced no fewer burps.

Next in the line-up of special guest stars was Stella the Lovely Irish Nephrologist, who seemed as pleased to see me as I was to see her. The appointment was blissfully uneventful as far as my BP and heart rhythm were concerned, and she confirmed that no more cardiac tests would be required before birth. Yaaaay! She also sheepishly asked me if I could take part in a med student's assessment in July, because of my "interesting rhythm". That's the first time my rhythm's been recommended to someone since the semi-final of the Sands Hotel Dynamic Dancing competition in 1990. In accordance with my passion for being the centre of attention, I agreed. The assessment will probably involve the student listening to my heart murmur and trying to describe my cardiac anatomy. All fun stuff.

Finally on my agenda was the obstetrician - one I hadn't seen before, and my new favourite. In my usual style, I've completely forgotten his name, but he was the most pleasant, chatty and relaxed I've seen to date. Not that the others have been nasty - I reckon it must be pretty difficult to be a bastard when the better part of your job is delivering little squidgy bundles of joy. He confirmed all sorts of good stuff, like Fetie being the right size, with the right heartbeat and facing the right way, and he also confirmed that I'd need some antibiotics administered at delivery like all members of the Zipper Club do when undergoing surgery. Apart from a short chat about the pros and cons of circumcision, that was it!

A quick visit to the pathologist for my glucose bloods and I was all wrapped up by 10am - a new record!

Oh, and I must apologise for not having any further belly shots up yet (ok mother?!). You see, my brother- and sister-in-law have the camera at the moment to take pictures of their gorgeous second son Banjo. Hang in there, Madre...