Scan time!

At last its time to have my first scan.

So here I am plucked, waxed, showered with no idea what to expect from my first blind date er.. appointment with the obstetrician. I have drunk about 2 litres of water so that we will get a good picture of the baby. I am excited like a child waiting for Santa Claus to come. Its also a bit nerve racking…What if the poor mite has some illness, deformity or Special Bloke’s aunt’s craggy nose? I am sooo looking forward to seeing this new person. I’m hoping it will make the growing baby more real to me. I still can’t believe I’m going to be someone’s Mum.

I arrive into the reception and my heart sinks at the queue of couples nervously awaiting scans. I have waited this long to see my baby so I can contain my excitement but I’m not sure I can contain my bladder. I sit down, cross-legged obviously and try not to embarrass myself. A Dad to-be gets up to the water cooler and pours himself a glass of water. It rumbles, bubbles and trickles noisily. Every woman waiting glares at his insensitivity and one woman bolts to the toilet, fighting back the tears.

Finally it’s our turn. I bound into the room, to meet a very bored looking nurse. She takes my details and blood pressure, with only the occasional comment [when I stood on the scales ‘hmm you’d want to keep an eye on that’]. Then she requests my urine sample. I explain that I didn’t realize that I was supposed to bring a sample. Furthermore, I explain that I cannot provide a sample now as my pregnancy book clearly states that a full bladder is needed to ensure a clear scan picture. The nurse folds her arms, rolls her eyes and roughly hands me a specimen tube as she looks at her watch and points to the toilet. I want to protest that its not my fault they didn’t think to pre-warn me to bring a sample but I am very aware that she will be taking blood from me shortly and I don’t want to get on the wrong side of her.

I scuttle to the toilet with tears in my eyes. It is just so unfair that I have drank a ridiculous amount of liquid, traveled across town, waited for eons in a cramped waiting room and now I have to literally pee away my chances of a clear scan picture. I wonder how many other hormonal women cry at her hands ever day. I psyche myself to return to her coven. Special Bloke puts a hand on my shoulder and says’ Don’t let Nurse Villain the Vile get you down. We’re going to see our angel in a few minutes’. And shortly afterwards we do…….

Dr Slaphack greets us warmly, scans my vitals and invites me to hop on to the table. I pull off my top and pull down my elaticated waistband to knee level much to the surprise of Dr.Slaphack. Apparently he requires a much smaller workspace of bellybutton to the tip of my knickers. Blushing, I cover up as Special Bloke disloyally mutters some smart aleck comment under his breath.

He is unperturbed by my half full bladder and rubs some jelly on my tummy. I shudder as my tummy flab wobbles under his touch. If I am this body conscious now how will I manage during labour? I am suddenly interrupted by the sound of thundering hooves.’ That is your baby’s heartbeat. It’s a good, strong beat which is what we like to hear’ he grins. I look at Special Bloke and we smile proudly at each other. He points out the head, spine, legs and arms. Gradually my eyes get their bearings and I can navigate the baby’s bits and pieces. I am thrilled when the baby moves its arms and I splutter ‘Hello baby’. Even though it only looks slightly more human than a satellite weather map I can’t stop smiling. Dr. Slaphack tells us he is happy with the baby’s progress so far and I have to restrain myself from planting a great big kiss on his cheek. His name does not suit him at all and I silently nickname him Dr. Stork.We head out the door with a little pic of our amazing creation and a feeling of bonhomie, wonder and awe…goodwill to all men..excluding Nurse Villain the Vile. I sincerely pray she contracts a bad case of thrush.