Well. Yesterday Husband and I showed up for our 3:00 p.m. appointment only to be told the Baby Doc had just been called out to deliver. I remained calm, standing there with my little brown bag containing my urine sample, sweat dripping down my face. The walk from the car to the office took what felt like supreme effort. The receptionist re-booked me for 9:30 a.m. today with apologies. I thanked her and left.

As soon as we got out of earshot, Husband asked if I was angry. And I said no, then began to boo-hoo. Good lord. We sat in the cool lobby in a private corner while I silently sobbed. He asked what was wrong, and I said I didn’t know. It’s just hormones. A minor hiccup in the day and an easy reason to flush a few tears. After about ten minutes I pulled myself together; Husband returned to work and I decided to run errands close by, since we’d be returning to that same building at 6:00 p.m. for our second childbirth preparation class.

Perhaps the tears came so easily because this schedule interruption is just one more reminder of all the things that are beyond my control at a time when I feel so much is already beyond me. Except for exerting control over my own actions and thoughts, I know that having control over everything is an illusion, and it’s part of my practice to release the impulse and desire for control.

Yet it does add up: my body is following a process of its own, my fingers and feet are puffy sausages, my knee sporadically complains, the weather is what it is, building projects happen according to other people’s planning, traffic is unpredictable. I worry I’m not gaining enough weight for my child (only 11 pounds so far). I don’t know what my baby looks like or if she has all her essential pieces. I don’t know what labor will feel like. I don’t know what kind of birth experience I will have. I don’t know how to care for and raise a being who is absolutely needy and dependent on me. I don’t know what events await my child, my husband, myself in our future. I don’t know how we will be affected by the larger political and climate changes occurring now. And I have a weird red spot on my right breast.

So the cancellation, while a small glitch, was the proverbial straw. Boo-hoo.

It turns out that indeed I have not gained any weight in the past two weeks. This is the time during pregnancy that the baby is supposed to be accumulating fat stores and when women are supposed to gain the majority of their weight. I’m eating as usual. The doctor said it’s okay, however. As long as I don’t feel hungry all the time and as long as I don’t lose weight, she says most likely the baby is just taking from my own reserves. Everything else is dandy: blood pressure 105/60, no sugar, good baby heartbeat, good fundal height. Relief.

I did show her the red patch on my right breast. It’s been there for a couple months in the one o’clock position. It doesn’t hurt; there is no lump. This breast has a history, which is why it raised concern. Back in 2000, for reasons no one could ever determine, I had mastitis in that breast. It tripled in size, was painful and hot, and I had a fever of 103 degrees. I actually went to the ER because I was so miserable and the onset came in the late evening. (I cannot believe mothers still nurse while having mastitis, but they do.) The other notable is that in 2003 the same breast had a couple of cysts that were biopsied and rated as benign. The doctor measured the spot at 9 x 5 centimeters and said, “Hmmm, very interesting.” She palpated the breast and found no lumps. She made a note in my chart and said that it’s possible I could get mastitis again while breastfeeding. We’ll see.

And that’s the latest on the baby front.