Tuesday, March 07, 2006

And the winner is....

I've got news. Lots of news. But I'm rationing it. You never know when life will get boring.

Last week, I was a little distracted by my ultrasound appointment. I spent Monday, Tuesday and most of the day Wednesday, telling people, "No, I don't know yet, we find out on Wednesday." That got a bit old.

Then on Wednesday, I chugged 78 ounces of water and held my straining bladder for two hours, sitting in a chair, squirming. I sat in the waiting area with Mr. Clairol, and the b**** of a receptionist kept grinning at me. I know she was thinking, "You are going to pee your pants at any minute and I am going to pretend to be sympathetic, but inside I'll be laughing my head off."

I bet they have a pool going. You know, how many women are going to wet themselves today? (I should say here that pregnancy makes me paranoid.) Mr. Clairol tried to distract me, until I looked him in the eye and said, "Do you really think talking about the Volkswagon Fast is going to make me forget I have to pee?!?" No, I'm not really what you'd call gracious under pressure.

The torture continued until I was called back. My husband recognized the woman as the tech that had performed our ultrasound with Missy Hoohaw. They chatted for a bit, but as Art was pulling out pictures of M.H., I cleared my throat and politely asked if we could start, since I REALLY HAD TO PEE!!!!!!!!! The technician fired up the machine and began to press a sonagram wand into my bursting bladder. I think she was just testing how far she could go until I cried. She didn't realize I would hit her before that happened. Luckily, it didn't come to that. She took some necessary measurements and showed us a foot and a hand. A nurse stuck her head in and said there was a woman out there with a 3:15 appointment, who was wondering if they could start her now, because she really had to pee and didn't think she could hold it any longer. The tech, bless her, looked at the clock and said, "It's not even 2:30 yet. I'm kind of in the middle of something here." I did not march out and demand that the whiner toughen up. Are you proud? I was.

After a few more stills and a shot of the brain, she let me take some of the pressure off. She gave me a little dixie cup and told me to fill it twice...no more. I would have laughed, but then I would have missed the cup.

After the filling and emptying of the cup (yeah, I filled it more than twice. SHHHHHH.), our technician commented on what a busy baby we had. And she was right. That little one was all over! Then, the moment of truth. "Do you want to know why it's so busy?" she asked, smiling at us.
My husband, clueless, said, "Why?"

"It's a boy."

And there was much rejoicing in the land.

2 Comments:

Blogger jennyonthespot said...

OHHHHH BOY!!!! I skipped past most of your post, just to find out - I couldn't wait!!! Now I'll go back and read about the b***** receptionist and your bladder made of steel! Not that the story wasn't intiriguing, but I might have peed my own pants out of anticipation!

I am giddy - congratulations my friend!

12:21 PM  
Blogger jennyonthespot said...

I like how the tech poised the news... "Do you want to know why it's so busy?" That's clever :)

Welcome to the wonderful world of little boys... It's a wild ride and you'll love it:)

I wish I could type the size of my smile :)

12:27 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home