We're Having A...Foot. And a Car Accident!

Yesterday was our Level II ultrasound. It was...expeditious. We arrived for our afternoon appointment just before 3 o'clock, which apparently was also the last one of the day. They called us back quickly and we were placed in a small room, with a small Russian technician, with a big accent. She asked me to lay down on my back on the table and the moment I sat on it I knew I was in trouble. It had the cushy looking vinyl wrap on in, but there was NO padding. It pretty much felt like laying on a slab of granite. History here would tell you that I have a bad back, which had actually been fine, until I got pregnant and then sciatica kicked in. I'm not that big, I really didn't anticipate issues this early, but it is what it is right? So I asked our little babushka for an extra pillow to support my back, and she kindly did so. She squirted the jelly on my stomach and studiously got to work without saying a word to either of us. Brian was able to see the screen but I saw very little. At this point Brian thankfully pointed out that we didn't want to know the sex and would prefer that it didn't go in our chart. Her reply was:"Ahhh biiig seekeret". She continued taking measurements, and only offered up the fact that things were measuring well. I tilted my head to one side almost to the point where I was reading the screen upside-down and began guessing what we were looking at.


"Is that the head?"


"Yhhis."


"Is that the heart?"


"Yhhis. "


I heard the printer go off at various points and assumed we were going to have a new whole book of photo's to oogle over when we left. But when she wrapped things up a whole twenty-five minutes later I noticed that Brian only had two small slips in his hand. Oh well, I'm sure they're great, I thought to myself. Then when she left the room he showed me two pictures of a foot, a shot of a femur, and the other picture is undecipherable. That's all we got. I had Brian help me up, but the pain from being on the steel bench for so long left me almost in tears. At that point another technician came into the room, and asked me to lay back down for a few more shots, then a doctor came in. They went over all of the measurements with each other, barely telling us anything. My placenta is a little on the low side but it's not covering my cervix, and they didn't seem too concerned. All the other measurements look great. When we were cleared to leave, the lights in the rest of the office were dimmed and the receptionist was gone. We walked out of there staring at the picture of our child's foot, bewildered by how disheartening the appointment was. We were expecting someone who would give us a chance to ooh and ahh over our growing child that we worked so hard for, but instead all we have to show for my back pain is a picture of their foot.


From the day I had booked this appointment we had planned to take the rest of the afternoon off and head down to a giant baby store about 40 minutes south to do some recon on baby gear. Then we'd grab a little dinner. We started to joke on the way down there about how we'd apparently only have to register for shoes, since we're only having a foot. And that's when the stop-and-go traffic started. We only got maybe five miles down the freeway when we heard some ones breaks lock up and then BAM they hit our car. The impact itself wasn't terrible, but the sound and the feeling of the belt locking up on my belly scared the crap out me. The damage to our car looks minimal, though his was considerably worse. I actually doubt his car was even drivable afterwards but we didn't stick around to find out.


While Brian was getting all of his info, I was on the phone to my OB's office. Yes, the one I had just unofficially fired. Interestingly enough there is a little something I should tell you about him. He called me. To apologize. Well technically he called to see if I was even offended first. He said his nurse told him he was a little subversive, and that I seemed a bit offended. I told him I was glad that he called, because he did come off a little harsh. He apologized and said that no matter what his job is to help me bring this baby into the world safely, and that he would be happy to do it with the method I had in mind. I have to say I was pretty impressed. Even though it sounded like he was being poked in the back by his wife in order to get the apology out, it took some balls on his behalf to call me and follow up. But the points he earned were too little, and too late. I'm still going to look for someone else. However, I needed them at the moment. When I called they told me to go straight to the ER. When we got to the ER, they said because I was over 20 weeks, they wanted me to go straight to Labor & Delivery. Gulp. They checked me in and and put us in a room. They hooked me up to a fetal monitor and a machine to measure contractions. Double Gulp. But as it turned out everything was fine. They asked me to take today off, which I did, gladly. And to get an appointment for another u/s with my OB. All of the u/s techs on L&D had gone for the day.


I called first thing this morning and got an appointment with my favorite nurse practitioner. She's very warm and friendly, just what I needed to put my mind at ease. When she sat down I told her about our horrible Level II and she agreed that the appointment sounded unacceptable, especially since we only ended up with a picture of a foot. She gladly set up the u/s machine and snapped a few pics for us, though there machines are no where near as high tech as the other one so the pictures aren't great. She wrapped up and asked me to stay put. When she came back she just wanted to let me know that I should expect a DVD copy of our u/s in the mail within the next week. She said they wouldn't be able to get the pictures back, but at the very least we could have a movie. Man, I'm going to miss her...


So. Other than that, things are good. I'm good, baby's good. Brian was wonderfully supportive and sweet. I know it was scary dear, but you were great. New pics in the photo gallery!