Also, a post about "El Duece"

(I guess technically I should say "La Duece", since I am pretty sure she's a girl...)

So, I had my second OB appointment today (or maybe it was my first; they are very confusing over there in that office w/ their useless "confirmation appointments" which apparently don't count as "pre-natal appointments" which apparently are different from "OB appointments" which are very different from "GYN appointments".... my head spins. I saw the fucking doctor who is going to slice me open in about 30 weeks and bring La Duece into the world.)

Anyway, I cleverly booked the 8am-first-appointment-of-the-day, and was shocked and dismayed to find that she was already running 30 minutes behind schedule. WTF? Apparently I learned nothing from my experiences in Ann Arbor. And then, I came to find out that I was in fact scheduled for an "OB appointment" (which as I explained above is different from a prenatal) so I had to undress from the waist down and all. Blah blah blah. The doctor, who is a very lovely sweet peppy young thing, is all kinds of chit-chat girl talk, which I'm usually all for, but today I was in a Very. Big. Hurry. and I was already running 40 minutes late. I kindly (I hope) asked her to hurry the fuck up.

She obliged, and whipped out the Doppler to listen for the heartbeat. She poked around for a few minutes, and then I saw her start to frown a little. Surprisingly, I did not panic. "You can't find it?", I asked. She chippered away, "Oh, it's probably just hiding, let's just run down the hall and we'll do a quick ultrasound to see what's going on..." Surprisingly, I still did not panic.

Actually, I had the mega-extreme-opposite reaction of panic. I thought to myself, "Fuuuuuuuck now I'm going to be Even. Later."

Nice. But, in my defense, I really do think that I just knew intuitively that everything was OK. I believe in my own intuition of my own body, just like I knew JD was a boy, and I knew that compazine suppositories weren't going to prevent me from randomly puking chicken parmagiana out of my throat. I know that had something actually been wrong, I would have known it and all thoughts of running late would have immediately disappeared.

But nothing was wrong. La Duece was just hanging out low, behind my pubic bone, out of Doppler range. And I was so glad to get a bonus peek at her, in the full form of a ten-week-old fetus, with a roly-poly gummi-bear body, and little arms and legs that wiggled around while I watched, and a profile with distinguishable features. Fucking amazing. Four weeks ago it was just a little blob with a heartbeat. It really blows my mind. Shoot, it was even enough to make me forget about how fucking late I was running...