I just can’t figure out why my humorless doc won’t vote for me as Comic of the Year

My week started out pretty typical. Haddie and I always kick start our day by doing two aerobics programs on TV: Denise Austin and Body Electric. Saying I do two programs makes me sound like a buff pregnant lady but be ye not deceived because:

1) I evily fast-forward through the commercials as Denise annoyingly chirps, “Now don’t you stop, I’ll be right back!!” and I always skip the cool-downs as well. It’s my own private rebellion.
2) I figure that my half-hour workout plus whatever cardio I get during the day probably burns about 300 of the 8,000 daily calories I’m consuming.

So, my friend Tina and I went for a long walk on Tuesday for the cardio-portion of my day. We stopped to let the kids play in the park afterwards, during which time I took a potty break. As usual. Only problem is, there was some blood, which many as you know is NOT good when pregnant. There wasn’t a lot of it but just enough for me to call the doc who insisted on seeing me that afternoon.

I honestly wasn’t too worried about a miscarriage because I could still feel the baby squirming around and I didn’t have any cramping or other such symptoms. And I was right. She did an ultrasound to make sure everything is in working order, during which time we got a CLEAR view that I am, indeed having a boy (but this didn’t stop me from calling Jamie and nearly gave him a heart attack when I told him the opposite–payback).

As it turns out, I have a bacterial infection and they prescribed some antibiotics. The other problems is that my placenta is the the wrong place against my cervix, which is causing the bleeding and could cause pre-term labor. For this reason, she scheduled me for another ultrasound with the tech on Friday. Just to be safe, she told me to limit my activities until after my ultrasound.

“So, you mean I can’t go on that hike in Boulder I was planning tomorrow?” I joked.

“Certainly not!!!” she snapped with a steely glare. She then added, “Oh, and no intercourse, either.”

“Bummer. Hey, can I get that in writing?”

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