Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Meet Your Daughter

You're never fully prepared for the first sight of your little one to be a full-on straight shot of their vagina. I imagine this would be particularly upsetting if your bean is a boy.

The 20-week (or in my case 21-week because my doctor had the nerve to take a vacation while I'm all busy growing people) prenatal appointment is THE doctor's appointment.

This is the appointment where many moms-to-be get the first good look at the person rearranging all their internal organs. This is where all sorts of measurements are taken to make sure the alien-child is growing at the right speed and has all (and no extra) body parts. And this is where you can choose to find out if your life's savings will be spent on new shoes or car insurance.

Since I was convinced I had killed our bean after the great poop debacle of 2011, I was particularly anxious to just make sure the heart was still going.

I had heard a lot about this milestone appointment from many mothers. The ultrasound takes 20-30 minutes. The tech will start at the baby's head and work their way down the body taking all the appropriate measurements to see if your kid will qualify for the Coney Island Freak Show (which sadly, I do not believe is in existence anymore). Finally, as they are wrapping up their review and you are agonizing with anticipation, you can choose to learn the gender of your baby before you go meet with the doctor to get the all-clear.

Naturally, our appointment went nothing like that. At all.

The tech has me lay down on the table where I roll down the top of my jeans (because you can do that in maternity jeans!!!) and she gets the wand. [As a side note: I'm pleased to report at this stage in the pregnancy the ultrasounds are entirely external.]

She flips on the machine, puts the wand on my stomach and WHAM-O. There she is; legs wide open, showcasing her goods for all who might be interested. That's our little girl.

Guess, we got that out of the way.

Within 10 seconds, Michael is busy texting the world while I wait to make sure little things like the heart, legs and a head happens to be attached to the floating girl parts on the screen. They were.

The tech does her business and I'll spare you details of how cute little baby feet look, even when they are inside your stomach, and how much relief you feel when you see 4 chambers of a heart beating. But that stuff is totally true.

As we're wrapping up, Michael is yammering on about what a relief it is to see everything in working order. Because I'm conniving and have no patience to wait for the doctor to interpret the tech's ultrasound photos, I see my opportunity...

Me: [knowing full well the tech legally cannot tell me if something is wrong with the ultrasounds, but also knowing the tech KNOWS] Well, Michael...don't get too excited yet. I mean, we don't know what's really going on in there. We need to meet with the doctor still [cue dramatic pauses and tension-building music] to make sure everything is OK in there. I mean, the only thing we know is that it's a girl and apparently the heart is still beating. So maybe you should stop texting everyone till will get the all clear [I was really finding my groove now]. We just don't know!!!!

Tech: [beautifully sensing her cue in the soap opera I've now initiated] It all looks great. I don't see anything to suggest otherwise here.

Score 1 for already becoming the manipulating mother type.

3 comments:

Nicole J said...

Congrats! Your posts are so honest that it's refreshing, I always enjoy reading them.

Jen Petrone said...

Thanks Nicole!

Turns out pregnancy didn't eliminate my driving need for unbearable sarcasm and cynicism. So I decided to go with it, knowing full well one day my kid will read this and hate me.

danax said...

One day your child will hate you with our without your sarcasm or cynicism - that's how you'll know you are doing a great job as a parent:-)