Yesterday mom did the second monitoring. The doctor tried for an hour and a half to put the bands for the measurement of my heart failure: a difficult undertaking because I moved all the time. "This kid does not stand still for a moment," he said smiling mother doing. But she defended taking the blame for my frustration and saying that it was because he had a lot of coughing and that annoyed me making me change positions often.
At the end of the visit, the response: two weeks from the end of the gestational period, fell a little amniotic fluid, presumably are 48 cm long and weighing 3 kilos and 800 grams already. Mom called me "the fat" when she told Dad.
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