1. They made me drink 2 bottles of water an hour before the appt. and NOT USE THE RESTROOM. This is plain torture for a pregnant lady as I have to use the bathroom at least every 20 minutes even when not drinking fluids. Mean...flat out evil.
2. They lay you and your full bladder down on the table in the dimly lit room and proceed to show you your full bladder in HD on a giant flat screen. Still not allowed to pee.
3. They measure your bladder and uterus and whatever it is you have in there. Still...not allowed to pee.
4. I cry out in desperation. She caves and lets me go.
5. As I return, she begins the measurements and I tell the technician I have to go again. She zooms in on my bladder again and yep, she says, it is filling up quite quickly. Like some people on live TV, the bladder is not something anyone needs to see on HD.
6. Two trips down and the business can begin. BUT, our bratty fetus decided not to cooperate. The views we got...spine curved, face down. Then, bottom of foot...facing the camera. Followed by gymnast style contortion. No cute "to go" pics for us. Damn.
7. Although we were highly annoyed that we couldn't see our future show us a profile or at least give us the bird, the technician was entertained. Now I am OK with being the butt of jokes and all but when she slaps and shakes my tummy like Chuck Liddell to see if it would dislodge the baby and change it's position, I start to wonder.
8. End result. Technician: 1 Clarkys: 0
She ends up with all the measurements she needs which to us looked like measuring blobs of plasma or Molly's excrement.
We end up with 8 pictures of Where's Waldo. I have included the VERY best one to show exactly how we were duped. At least we know the baby has at least one foot.
The technician did say it was a good thing we didn't want to find out the sex as she couldn't tell anyway. An hour and 45 minutes later, that is.
I never thought I could love the bottom of a foot so much.
No comments:
Post a Comment