Sunday, April 25, 2010
Ultra Sound, Ultra Stress
The first Ultra Sound (Are they supposed to be caps? Looks cooler that way, so the caps stay) was at about 5 weeks. Nurse Kelly told us that if the baby was under 7 weeks we wouldn't be able to see it on their machine, which was not so high techie as most. So all we saw that first time with the Ultra-Sound was the sac and a tiny flicker of what was to come, so they asked us to come back in two weeks.
By week seven, we had the now famous picture of baby in the heart shaped sac, either curled up or, as Mark's brother Dennis pointed out, on her knees with her arms back in what can only be described as a Kevin Bacon in Footloose style pose. Nurse Kelly was so excited that Colette and I got caught up in it as well; It was truly a singular moment, to see the baby, her form, the flicker of her gorgeous heart. Colette looked at me to make sure she wasn’t the only one teary eyed and bursting. She wasn’t.
At 22 weeks we had high hopes for our next visit, we knew that this was the time when you could determine the sex of the baby, and so we went into the clinic with our heads and hopes high. But, alas! The doc said "Not so much." and I shook my fist at the receptionist on our way out, for she had been the one to tell me that we would be getting an Ultra Sound. What we got was directions to come back in a couple weeks, THEN we would get a referral for an Ultra Sound and THEN make an appointment. Oy vey, you may be thinking, and rightfully so.
We were so anxious the day we got the referral we made an appointment for an hour from then, skipping class so we could find out once and for all.
From the moment we went into the Ultra Sound room, I had this creeping feeling of dread. I somehow knew we weren’t going to find out. Colette would later say that we wanted it too badly, that somehow our desperation had triggered the Universe with a capital “U” to put the kibosh on our hopes. She also said that we just weren’t meant to know. Either way, she was right. The tech was a little cold and calculating, but he did put forth, oh I dunno, 51% effort to try and discern the sex. His hands bipped and bopped over that machine like a carnie working a Tilt-A –Whirl. He turned knobs, slapped wheels and jabbed buttons so fast I thought he couldn’t actually be doing anything other than damaging what looked to be a very expensive piece of medical equipment. In the end, we got about 7 pictures of the baby, which I fully admit looked alien and creepy (sorry, honey) but that was just the weird captures he took to make sure the baby didn’t have any extra appendages or flippers, I think.
Last But Not Least
So, we had 3 Ultra Sounds at this point, and no info (ok, the baby was healthy and had all her legs and arms). Colette found out that the other two girls she worked with BOTH knew the sex of their padawans, and she was, let’s go with unimpressed.
I remembered that Nurse Kelly had told us about an Ultra Sound school that did them for about 50 bucks, and I called them to set up an appointment. “Is this about the free Ultra-Sound program?” the receptionist asked. “Um, Yes?”
Free = Good.
Neither of us knew what to expect, we had had our hopes dashed a goodly amount of times. So we both went in fairly neutral-energied. (Yes, I made that word up, I do that, so get used to it) I may have been a teensy bit more Negative Nancy, I wanted more than anything for Colette to know that we would try everything and not give up until we knew what the baby was, even if we had to go back for another freebie wearing fake mustaches and bowler hats.
We were really hoping it wouldn’t be even more cold and strange as the last Ultra Sound process. We didn’t know if a bunch of sleep-deprived tech students hopped up on coffee and Monsters would be slathering frigid goop on her tummy and jamming the hand held around her stomach making “Vroom!” noises. What we got was something else entirely.
There was a woman in her early 40’s, very kind and extremely competent. She was more concerned with the baby and Colette than anything else. The lights were dimmed in the room, and the students were very respectful and attentive. I cracked wise a few times, and there was much amazement at my wit (well, some) but my jokes were unnecessary, they were all very at ease and invested in the process.
When she asked if we wanted to know the sex of the baby at the beginning, I blurted, probably a bit too excitedly, “YES PLEASE GOD”.
After about fifteen minutes, we had nothing. The tech kept saying “Boy, this is a stubborn baby. The legs are really stuck together.” I started to get a little sad, but not much. She told Colette to turn on her side, then her other side, then her back, then a little bit on her back on her side. She told Colette to go drink some cold water, walk around, and come back. But after 30 minutes, baby was still comfortable knee-locked and uncooperative. I thought, well this is it. It was a valiant effort. We weren’t even paying for this, I thought for sure this tech was going to say, “Well, thanks but time for you three to kick rocks.”
Oh no, not that tech.
“It is my mission to determine the sex of this baby. It’s my quest.” That was pretty much verbatim. After repeated trips to the cooler, Colette’s bladder was so full I thought for sure she was going to float out of the room. Colette walked, she drank, she literally did jumping jacks, much to the amusement, and confusion, of the students walking by.
At the 50 minute marker, the tech turned to us and said “Who is the stubborn one in the family?” Being the diplomat that I am, I held my tongue, and said nothing.
“Me.” Colette said.
“Well, she’s stubborn like her mommy. It’s a girl.”
“Are you sure?” I squeaked.
The tech eyed me, in the way professionals do when a layperson questions their ability.
“Well that’s a vagina.”
I nodded sagely.
A girl.
By week seven, we had the now famous picture of baby in the heart shaped sac, either curled up or, as Mark's brother Dennis pointed out, on her knees with her arms back in what can only be described as a Kevin Bacon in Footloose style pose. Nurse Kelly was so excited that Colette and I got caught up in it as well; It was truly a singular moment, to see the baby, her form, the flicker of her gorgeous heart. Colette looked at me to make sure she wasn’t the only one teary eyed and bursting. She wasn’t.
At 22 weeks we had high hopes for our next visit, we knew that this was the time when you could determine the sex of the baby, and so we went into the clinic with our heads and hopes high. But, alas! The doc said "Not so much." and I shook my fist at the receptionist on our way out, for she had been the one to tell me that we would be getting an Ultra Sound. What we got was directions to come back in a couple weeks, THEN we would get a referral for an Ultra Sound and THEN make an appointment. Oy vey, you may be thinking, and rightfully so.
We were so anxious the day we got the referral we made an appointment for an hour from then, skipping class so we could find out once and for all.
From the moment we went into the Ultra Sound room, I had this creeping feeling of dread. I somehow knew we weren’t going to find out. Colette would later say that we wanted it too badly, that somehow our desperation had triggered the Universe with a capital “U” to put the kibosh on our hopes. She also said that we just weren’t meant to know. Either way, she was right. The tech was a little cold and calculating, but he did put forth, oh I dunno, 51% effort to try and discern the sex. His hands bipped and bopped over that machine like a carnie working a Tilt-A –Whirl. He turned knobs, slapped wheels and jabbed buttons so fast I thought he couldn’t actually be doing anything other than damaging what looked to be a very expensive piece of medical equipment. In the end, we got about 7 pictures of the baby, which I fully admit looked alien and creepy (sorry, honey) but that was just the weird captures he took to make sure the baby didn’t have any extra appendages or flippers, I think.
Last But Not Least
So, we had 3 Ultra Sounds at this point, and no info (ok, the baby was healthy and had all her legs and arms). Colette found out that the other two girls she worked with BOTH knew the sex of their padawans, and she was, let’s go with unimpressed.
I remembered that Nurse Kelly had told us about an Ultra Sound school that did them for about 50 bucks, and I called them to set up an appointment. “Is this about the free Ultra-Sound program?” the receptionist asked. “Um, Yes?”
Free = Good.
Neither of us knew what to expect, we had had our hopes dashed a goodly amount of times. So we both went in fairly neutral-energied. (Yes, I made that word up, I do that, so get used to it) I may have been a teensy bit more Negative Nancy, I wanted more than anything for Colette to know that we would try everything and not give up until we knew what the baby was, even if we had to go back for another freebie wearing fake mustaches and bowler hats.
We were really hoping it wouldn’t be even more cold and strange as the last Ultra Sound process. We didn’t know if a bunch of sleep-deprived tech students hopped up on coffee and Monsters would be slathering frigid goop on her tummy and jamming the hand held around her stomach making “Vroom!” noises. What we got was something else entirely.
There was a woman in her early 40’s, very kind and extremely competent. She was more concerned with the baby and Colette than anything else. The lights were dimmed in the room, and the students were very respectful and attentive. I cracked wise a few times, and there was much amazement at my wit (well, some) but my jokes were unnecessary, they were all very at ease and invested in the process.
When she asked if we wanted to know the sex of the baby at the beginning, I blurted, probably a bit too excitedly, “YES PLEASE GOD”.
After about fifteen minutes, we had nothing. The tech kept saying “Boy, this is a stubborn baby. The legs are really stuck together.” I started to get a little sad, but not much. She told Colette to turn on her side, then her other side, then her back, then a little bit on her back on her side. She told Colette to go drink some cold water, walk around, and come back. But after 30 minutes, baby was still comfortable knee-locked and uncooperative. I thought, well this is it. It was a valiant effort. We weren’t even paying for this, I thought for sure this tech was going to say, “Well, thanks but time for you three to kick rocks.”
Oh no, not that tech.
“It is my mission to determine the sex of this baby. It’s my quest.” That was pretty much verbatim. After repeated trips to the cooler, Colette’s bladder was so full I thought for sure she was going to float out of the room. Colette walked, she drank, she literally did jumping jacks, much to the amusement, and confusion, of the students walking by.
At the 50 minute marker, the tech turned to us and said “Who is the stubborn one in the family?” Being the diplomat that I am, I held my tongue, and said nothing.
“Me.” Colette said.
“Well, she’s stubborn like her mommy. It’s a girl.”
“Are you sure?” I squeaked.
The tech eyed me, in the way professionals do when a layperson questions their ability.
“Well that’s a vagina.”
I nodded sagely.
A girl.
Friday, April 9, 2010
In the Beginning (ellipsis)
As with any blog, this particular one has been started with the noble intention of reporting anything that either myself or Colette finds noteworthy in regards to our unborn spawn er child, and the people, places and pets surrounding her. We will try not to bore you with the minor details (River moved 7 times today while we watched reruns of The Dog Whisperer!) nor will we be too withholding of details that may cause a chuckle or perhaps a snort (River kicked the crap out of mom today when she tried to bend at the waist to tie her shoes, silly mommy). Personally, this will be my first stab at a blog, and I think it is an excellent way to communicate to family and friends who we may not be in close contact with due to distance or lack of time in our oh so busy schedules. Also this is a great little journal for River for when she gets older, a kind of evolving time capsule safely tucked into the folds of the interwebs. At least until aliens invade or zombies descend upon us and wipe out civilization as we know it. At which point we will all be wishing we spent more time learning how to hunt with rudimentary weapons and survive in the wilderness than on this blog, but life is a roll of the dice, people.
But I digress, for I am a digressor.
Please feel free to post your brains out, and send any kind of requests your hearts desire, and we will make every effort to facilitate.
Let's do our best to make a well-rounded, comprehensive, love-filled archive for River to be embarassed by for years to come.
Go team!
Your humble editor,
James
But I digress, for I am a digressor.
Please feel free to post your brains out, and send any kind of requests your hearts desire, and we will make every effort to facilitate.
Let's do our best to make a well-rounded, comprehensive, love-filled archive for River to be embarassed by for years to come.
Go team!
Your humble editor,
James
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