Pissed off

So the baby is now eight days late.  This is unfortunate, as both TheBloke (TM) and I pride punctuality as an important personality trait.  Let's just say our daughter is not making a good first impression.  We will bring it up accordingly at her quarterly performance review.

Anyway, today I got to have my, "Oh shit, you're more than a week late" appointment at Whipps Cross Hospital.  This may not be exactly what they call it, but the sentiment is the same.  Last week I had my, "Oh dear, you're a day late" appointment, which involved the midwife fingering me in what was apparently a medical procedure called a "sweep", but what was actually more like a late night at the Curzon Cinema in Loughborough.  Rubber gloves, lube, severe discomfort, and no telephone call the next day.

So the appointment today, like every other appointment I've had so far, has required a urine test.  Fine.  I can plan in advance, drink some fluid, produce wee on demand.  Excellent.  And in my past, I am sure - nay certain, that urine sample tubs have looked something like this:

These are fine.  Nice and wide and spacious at the top, allowing us ladies to cover the entire urine-producing area with the bottle and fill up the little tub with our golden delight.  So far, so good.  Yet I have noticed a worrying trend over the last few months.  Ever since I got pregnant, the urine sample bottles have changed to look like this:

Notice anything?  Pretty small opening, hey?  Well, no matter, surely?  Well actually, yes.  A bit of a matter.  As it happens, I can no longer see my own foo-foo area, and haven't been able to for several months.  This means it's mostly guesswork where exactly the wee-wee will come out.  Guesswork that has to be proved by trial and error - starting and stopping, if you will, until the right location is happened upon.  And - brilliantly - it's not actually possible to do this, without ending up with the pregnancy symptom I like to describe technically as "pissy hands".  In order to find the right position, you literally have to piss all over your own hands.  Lovely.

So, in addition to acid reflux, chronic backache, piles, carpal tunnel syndrome, acne, spotty boobs, achy hips, random itchy rashes, constipation, diarrhoea, labyrinthitis, vomiting and being a massive fat whale, pregnant women also have to put up with pissy hands because the NHS refuses to order slightly larger beakers.

Well not today, ladies and gentlemen.  Today I took a stand for all pregnant women.  On finally getting to the front desk, and being handed the above tiny beaker, I loudly and proudly stated for all to hear, "No!  I am eight days overdue and I will not tolerate any more pissy hands!  Please provide me with a receptacle large enough to cover my urogenital area!  I am completely unable to observe my urine flow as my tummy is too big and I am sick of pissing over my own fingers!"

Well, it worked.  Kind of.  In the end I was handed a polystyrene drinks cup and told I could decant.  Like a fine wine.  I will not miss being pregnant.