Pregnancy Brain

I went to my regular obstetrician appointment by myself yesterday. It was a first. DH is away and he had never missed any of my obstetrics appointments with this pregnancy and attended all of them when I was carrying Iain. We consider ourselves very lucky.

Additionally, I did not have Iain with me. Iain is at that interesting age when bringing him into new situations is usually charming and fun. However, I find both of those behaviours a bit much when it involves stirrups and medical garbage cans (ew!). Luckily, one of my very good friends here in town offered to take Iain for me while I drove all the way to Kentville for my appointment. Usually, I meet up with my doctor here in town but, with once a month appointments and him only in the local hospital the odd week, I occasionally do have to drive to Kentville (a 45 minute drive) to see him.

So, I dropped off Iain, complete with snack and a good mood, a bit of a miracle considering he had just woken up. Iain usually takes about 15 minutes to get accustomed to the harsh world of Not Napping. I was almost to Kentville when I noticed that the ‘you need gas now’ light was on. I also thought that perhaps that light had been on for awhile and I had only just noticed it. No problem. DH is always telling me that I have more gas than I think once the gas light turns on (he’d know. He is also the person in the family who has run out of gas more times than the other adult in the house but, I digress…) and I have to admit that I panic a little when I see that light come on. In fact, I was mad at myself for not checking the gas gauge before I’d even left Middleton but it was too late by then.

The exit I take for the doctor is at Coldbrook where, luckily, there is a plethora of gas stations to choose from. I pulled up to my choice station and that’s when it hit me. Because I had dropped Iain off, that meant that I had also dropped off his diaper bag (a knapsack that goes with us everywhere). And, if I’d dropped off his diaper bag that also meant that I’d inadvertently dropped off my wallet. So, there I am, sitting at the gas station with no money, no credit card, no driver’s licence and no cell phone. The credit card and cell phone were particularly important because not only could I not buy gas but I also could not call anyone for help as I do not know anyone personally in Coldbrook/Kentville and it is a long distance call from there to Middleton for help. I didn’t think that the gas station would let me call long distance and solicit help but, hey, I’m pregnant right? I might get a break?

Turns out that gas attendants in Nova Scotia do not offer special assistance to pregnant ladies who are out of gas. So much for East Coast friendliness and hospitality.

With my fingers crossed, I limped to my doctor’s office and appointment praying that I would make it there, at least, before I ran out of gas. After all, two doors up from the clinic is a gas station. I could walk a can of gas over from that distance, I figured.

I made it to the doctor’s parking lot.

I also made it all the way into my appointment where, after telling the receptionist/nurse about my predicament, the office staff managed to come up with $10 cash so that I could fill the car with enough gas to get me back home again.

Pregnancy brain. I’ve got it bad.