Computers and programming may pay our mortgage but sometimes I think technology can kiss my ass. Today I had my 37 week appointment where my doctor did a cervical check (fingertip dilated=1 cm! yay! the head is down low in my pelvis! yay!) and we started chatting about my aforementioned issues with food lately. She was concerned since I haven't been gaining weight (duh. I'm not eating enough.) so she wanted to do an ultrasound just to check "and make sure he's growing even though you're not gaining weight." I went through this a few weeks ago and everything was just fine so I really wasn't concerned. Hell, I've met my insurance deductible for the year so party on!
The ultrasound tech did the exam, took measurements of the baby's head circumference and femur length (standard procedure for estimating size), and input all the numbers into the computer for the report. Well, the report came back and said that he was only measuring in the 10th percentile at 4 lbs 5 oz, which is actually 34-35 weeks, rather than 37 weeks. Ummmm, hello? 'Tis a problem, no? Then she scurried out of the room yelling over her shoulder that she would be right back, just have to make a call, talk to the doctor, blah blah. Thank you Ultrasound Technician for leaving me alone in a dark room with the information that my preshus bebe is way too tiny. But I totally didn't freak out...I was distracted by the new US Weekly. Priorities you see.
So, 15 minutes later she comes back in and says the doc in the labor ward at the hospital wants to see a report showing the blood transfer through the umbilical cord. He wanted to make sure the cord was transmitting blood back and forth efficiently and properly. Ok, fine, lube my belly back up and do your thing lady. So she does and off she goes again to talk to the doctor. Ten minutes later she's back and tells me they are all perplexed because the cord report is perfect and the measurements show on the screen that the baby is measuring at 37 weeks and 6 lbs 15 oz...but the report that the computer spits out is telling us very differently. Scratching of heads ensues and I continue reading my magazine. The tech decides to start all over and re-measure the baby and send the info for a second time to the report generating computer. However, this time, she actually goes and WATCHES the report being generated. At that moment she realized that it was the COMPUTER that was f-ing up the results and that MY BABY is just fine. I think she started swearing under her breath but I can't be sure because my rising blood pressure was making my head pound.
End result: my boy is excellent, 65th percentile, 6 lbs 15 oz, 20 inches-ish long. And I got a hug from the nurse because "that must have been very stressful for you, oh my, tsk tsk". I prefer to think it was celebrity gossip that got me through it. God Bless US Weekly.