Wednesday, March 26, 2008

The Wait Begins

There I sat. Tapping my feet, crossing and re-crossing my legs thinking how cruel the whole situation is. No magazines to read and distract me. What kind of doctors office has no magazines?! Relaxed low lighting and the tinkly, tinkle, tinkle sound of muzak plays in the background.

"Dear God! I hope they call my name soon!", I thought.

This is torture! There is nothing to distract me from my incredibly full bladder except John McCain on CNN droning on about the irresponsibility of people who bought homes beyond their means. He sounds like some old crone yelling at kids to get off his sidewalk or else. Every time he opens his mouth I truly try to listen and then realize, "Wait. I don't have to!" Besides he just sounds like a cranky old person who is always pissed about something. He looks like he would yell at you for touching the produce too long at the grocery store.

I look across the room at an old man as my molars begin to float away. He is on oxygen and cannot walk without the assistance of a person and a walker. OK, so maybe simply having to piss my brains out is not such a bad thing I think as I wonder if I have a case of the Jimmy legs. Maybe if I use that bathroom right next to me and pee just a little it won't matter. Maybe no one will know.

Finally, my name is called and I practically sprint after the woman realizing that we pass no less than three restrooms as we walk down the corridor to the darkened ultrasound room. "Poor thing, you look like you might have overdone it. You really have to go don't you?" Uh yeah lady. I really do and if we stop and chat in this hallway I might flood it soon and your leather loafers will be the first casualty so can we just get on with this?!

It is painful just to lie down at the table and I look at my swollen stomach thinking, "Yes. I definitely drank more than 24 ounces in an hour. Damn! This is its own form of water torture." Almost as soon as the warm goo is applied the tech declares me ineligible for this type of ultrasound. We need to do an internal. Kick ass. For that my bladder must be emptied. Faster than a cat on crack I jump off the table and run to the nearest bathroom. I think the entire office building heard my sighs of relief.

Back on the table and back in business my uterus pops up on the screen. There it is the tiny little egg sac. As small as a pencil eraser. It's too soon to tell if it is one or two which is partly why I am here in the first place. My due date? The other reason I am at this appointment, "Oh I'm sorry. I can't tell you that information", says the tech. "You'll have to wait for your regular doctor to give you that information..."

Now I just want to pee on her shoes in pure frustration and spite. I have two weeks until that appointment. Two weeks of wondering if it will be a Thanksgiving or a closer to Christmas baby.


  1. Congrats to you, H and TD!!!!! I'm so happy for you.

  2. Holy crap!!!! No wonder you've been a walking pissed off hormone, huh???? Yaaay!!!!!!

  3. Anonymous1:47 PM

    I’ll never forget when I was about 7 months pregnant with Marc and needed an ultrasound. I was given the “standard” instructions. Day of, I dutifully consumed the required gallons of water, all of it within the brief specified time period. Immediately, I wondered how this was really going to play out when I already couldn’t contain it all! I rushed to load the stroller (a must have), into the van, fastened & secured Amy into her car seat and we were off. All the way there, I tried to psyche myself out by reciting “I think I can, I think I can, [I don’t know], I think I can, I think I can, [Is this even possible?]” By the time we arrived, (only 5 mins. later), I was, to put it mildly, “feeling” desperate. What emerged from my car was not the happy-go-lightly expectant mother I’d awaken as earlier that morning. No, in that short time I morphed into a purpose-driven-package of womanhood with an engorged bladder that swelled with the tick of each second. Hastily, I released Amy from her high-security car seat, applied her toddler weight to my distended stomach-much to the pleasure of my bladder, any and all thought of a stroller now a just fleeting image, and ran…ran as fast as a 7-month-pregnant-woman can RUN: destination- Restroom. Afterwards, with some measure of control (and relief beyond measure), I proceeded to register for my ultrasound. I confessed that I had to void a little and to my astonishment (and resentment), what was their response? At my stage of pregnancy, it isn’t necessary to consume that much water!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    How can they do that????????????????????? And, to someone that pregnant????????

  4. I HATE having to pee.


  5. Congratulations! Tiffany said exactly what I would have: No wonder your hormones have been raging!

  6. Congratulations!
    My sonogram peeps never once told me whether I had to drink or not so I self inflicted that torture completely needlessly a number of times... GAH.
    Thanks for stopping by my blog!

  7. Wow! I had most of my ultrasounds in Germany, and the doc never told me anything about not peeing. ACtually, I had to pee in the cup each and every visit prior to the ultrasound. Doc did the ultrasounds... no tech needed. However, the first US was in France-- lots of water-- lots of squirming. Sorry... off track!

    Congratulations. Two weeks seems like forever!!!

  8. Congratulations!! What a wonderful thing!

  9. Gayle8:46 PM

    I posted yesterday but it didn't show up... CONGRATULATIONS!

  10. A ha! See, if I would have read your posts in chronological order I would have known this. Congrats!

  11. I can't believe they made you drink that much water! I had at least a dozen sonograms during my pregnancy and never had to do that. Hope you have a good pregnancy and congrats again!


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