Say Cheese

Two weeks ago my Doctor called and left a message for me on our voice mail. Mike, helpfully, checked the messages and deleted the one from our Doctor without writing any of the information down.

Mike: Did you get the message from the Doctor's office about the appointment they made for you?

Me: Which Docotor? What appointment?

Mike: Doctor McMillan. I don't know what appointment.

Me: Did you save the message?

Mike: No. (Strike one)

Now I should mention that this conversation took place at about 5:30 on a Friday evening so I had to wait until Tuesday to get a hold of somebody at Doctor's office to find out what the heck this appointment was for. So it turns out they had booked me an appointment for an ultrasound at 7:30 in the freakin' morning on Tuesday the 25th. So I wrote down all the information and arranged to go in to work late. That evening I show Mike the paper and proceed to whine to him about the time of the appointment because as you may know an ultrasound usually requires you to drink copious amounts of water. So by 6:30 in the morning I need to have ingested 32 ounces of water. Now anybody who knows me knows I love water, it's my first choice of beverage. However, the thought of having to drink two bottles of water shortly after waking up was enough make me sick. Then more for Mike's benefit than my own I tacked my info sheet up on the bulletian board and wrote the appointment down on his calendar. Can anybody see where this is going?

So fast forward to yesterday morning (the 25th - ultrasound day) and I get Abby up, settle her on the couch with Bugs Bunny on (thank God for Teletoon) and start working on my first bottle of water. I figured I'd drink one, have a shower and drink the other finishing very close to 6:30 because I know drinking all this water is going to lead to some "discomfort" and why be uncomfortable any longer than necessary? I force myself to drink the water even though my stomach wants nothing to do with it. Partly because it's a lot of water to drink all at once and partly because I'm nervous about the appointment. Mike happens to notice me struggling with the water and asks what's wrong.

Me: Well I have to drink two bottles of water in the next 20 minutes. (Can you guess what's coming next?)

Mike: What for? (Strike 2)

Me: My ultrasound that's at 7:30.

Now you know this starts a chorus of "what ultrasound?", "you never told me" etc. I went and got my info sheet off his bulletian board.

Me: Are you telling me you've never see this before?

Mike: Well I saw it, but I never read it.

Me: And it's written on your calendar.

Mike: Well I never look at that calendar.

Me: And we've discussed this appointment several times over the last two weeks.

Mike: I'm taking you?

Me: Yes Mike, it's your baby. Don't you want to see your baby.

Mike: Well I can't believe you wouldn't tell me about it.

Me: You have nobody to blame but yourself here. You knew about it and you forgot.

He continued to bitch and moan, but only half heartedly at this point. He and I both knew that he had simply forgot, there was no use denying it, but he wasn't quite ready to give up the fight yet. Dropping Abby off at the sitter's we head to the appointment with Mike trying to get in touch with work to let them know he'll be late. After 45 minutes of trying to get a hold of somebody in a position of authority he finally gives up and calls a co-worker to relay the message to the powers that be. As I sit listening he, very wisely, tells Holly that he completely forgot about the appointment this morning even though I'm sure he would have loved to tell her I neglected to tell him about it. He probably would have done that too if he hadn't already figured out that he'd pushed his luck just far enough.

At the hospital we travel the maze of halls until we finally locate the ultrasound waiting room. There's only 2 other people waiting there with us. They appear to be mother and daughter, the daughter, I would guess, a little older than me. They also happened to be wearing matching outfits. For the daughter, blue jeans, blue ribbed long sleeved shirt and a blue puffy vest. Mom was wearing black jeans, black ribbed long sleeve shirt and a black and white puffy vest. I sure hope that was an accident.

Lucky for me and my aching bladder I didn't have to wait long before I was called in for my appointment. Even luckier for me the technician declared my bladder way too full and I got to empty it right away. So we proceed with the scan, which is pretty boring from my end of things. The technician is busy taking the pictures the Doctor requires and I'm laying there staring at the ceiling. At least at my OB's office she's put cartoons on the ceiling for the patients to read. Nothing here but boring ceiling tiles. The baby, of course, is in no mood to co-operate. I can feel him/her kicking away at the pressure of the ultrasound wand. "This baby never stops moving," says the technician, as if I didn't know. Baby has no interest in having it's picture taken and drastic measures must be taken. She first starts with jiggling my belly and when that fails to produce the desired results she tries a combination jiggling while reclining the bed until I'm nearly standing on my head. Still no co-operation from my stubborn child. Any surprise I think this kid is a boy? Finally there's only one picture left to be taken, one of the heart and baby is still being difficult. She decides to send me for a little walk to get Mike in hopes that it will shift the baby's position enough she can get her last picture.

Mike and I are back in the room and she takes us on the "tour". All required elements appear to be there. Two arms, two legs, 10 fingers, 10 toes. Baby has his/her legs crossed and she shows us the feet from the bottom so they look like they're the wrong way around. The hands were together on one side of the face, one open and one a closed fist. Baby is currently head down. We'll hope he/she stays that way, unlike big sister Abby. Finally at the end of the tour she gets a picture of the heart and we're all finished. We get sent off to the waiting room to wait for our picture and for her to figure out how big the baby is (1.2 pounds).

So far everything looks good. Tomorrow is my fetal ECG to check for any heart abnormalities (Another message Mike forgot to tell me about, but at least he saved this one... baby steps). If you're the praying sort, I'd ask that you say one or two for us.