We had our first appointment yesterday, and I woke up this morning still not sure what I think of everything that went down.
Big news first. The doctor did a full pelvic exam, and I waited out in the waiting room. So when I saw the babymama again she said, “The doctor thinks I am 12 weeks pregnant, not 8 weeks, and that it may have worked the first time and we just didn’t know it. But she didn’t hear the heartbeat so we are going to have an ultrasound.”
Humanah humanah? How is that possible? She ovulated, we inseminated, she tested negative, she had a period. Then she ovulated again, we inseminated again, and she tested positive. I guess the doctor told her that she has about 20 patients who have a period the first month they are pregnant.
WAIT. That really happens? That isn’t just a myth that floats around in infertility chat rooms to torture the barren? Well, color me informed.
I mean, if she is 12 weeks, score, right? Four bonus weeks. Except the whole not hearing the heartbeat thing. The exact phrase I don’t ever want to hear. I know, I read in the baby book you can sometimes not hear it until 14 weeks, but motherfucker, I need proof of life right now. I want a goddamn picture of that fetus with today’s paper.
Do you like how I get all Tony Soprano when I get super stressed?
Anyway, so now we wait for an ultrasound.
In the meantime, I was so nervous about being at the appointment. I wasn’t sure how the doctor would be, you know? Some people look at me like I’m a Big Bad Uterus Implanter, like Babymama (I keep almost typing her name!) was tied up and inseminated and now must deal with the consequences and then force over her baby at gun point. RATHER: the one who volunteered and who is getting 10k.
So when we walked in the nurses cheered and said, “Yay! It worked!” and I was so relieved, but it was short lived because the doctor has the personality of a serial killer. She walks in (in horrible shoes) and says, “I am assume this is being done legally?”
No, bitch. I’ve got a gun pointed at her right now, it’s just under my jacket. Then she says she just wants to make sure because the hospital will not let me leave with the baby without the proper paperwork. I said, well my husband is the biological father of this child, and she said she still didn’t think he could leave with the child.
Now listen, we have lawyers. There is paperwork for this. It’s truly one of my biggest fears, to get that far and have some paperwork issue ruin what is supposed to be the happiest time for us. And Dr. American Psycho has just reinvigorated that fear less than thirty seconds into the appointment.
Anyway, the rest of the appointment was boring and uneventful, minus the whole, “I was pregnant and didn’t know it” episode that went down. I still think she is wrong, and we are at 8 weeks, but I guess an ultrasound will tell. And maybe we will hear a heartbeat, and I can fall asleep replaying the swish-swish, swish-swish, swish-swish sound in my head.