So I went to the doctor again on Thursday. It was terribly boring; there's not much to tell. Jim is growing appropriately, and I am growing appropriately-ish - gained a pound more than I should have since the last visit, but then again, I was a pound less than I should've been at the last one, so I shall declare that a wash and continue to eat cookies.
For once, I was totally prepared with a full bladder so I could give them the traditional cup-o'-urine before my appointment, but alas, it was insufficient. There were some white blood cells in the sample I gave, so she decided I should have a urine culture done to see if the trouble was coming from my bladder (no good!) or if it was just nosy bacteria wandering over from the vagina to check out the landscape in my urethra (as my doctor suspects). Unfortunately, this required another cup of urine a mere twenty minutes after producing the last batch, so they left me alone with a couple glasses of water (which I dutifully guzzled) and a sterile cup (which I dutifully filled).
As I might have suspected, this post-appointment water guzzling left me having to pee urgently about halfway home, just as I hit the construction* near our house. Naturally, Jim took this as a signal to tap dance on my bladder until I managed to get home. Next time this happens, I'll be hanging out at the hospital for an hour after my appointment just in case.
* Construction season is just as bad here as in Pennsylvania. Possibly it's worse, since there's three times as much summer.