After our first ultrasound, we scheduled our next prenatal appointment for January 18th. This time, I made certain that the woman who made the appointment knew that it was the 18th, not the 20th, and all was well. I wasn't going to go through that again! At our prior appointment, the doctor had told me he was going to take some blood at this appointment for fetal development and disorder tests, as well as to find out the blood type of the baby. As time went on, I got more and more curious as to how on earth he'd test the blood type of the baby. I decided I'd call to ask the nurse what all this upcoming appointment was going to entail, and she told me that the doctor would be taking measurements. ... Uh huh, and that means what? Measurements of what? She then told me they'd be drawing blood. I said ok, but you just said measurements. What does that mean? Is there going to be an ultrasound? She said yes, and I was already worn out from work and decided I just wasn't going to ask anymore.
My doctor is amazing. He's a little old man who's been doing this for only God knows how many years, and is super nice. The nurse, well, she's another story. She doesn't smile. She doesn't talk. She doesn't answer questions or even pay attention to the questions you're asking. So, her responses didn't come as a surprise, but rather as a frustration. So, I just decided I'd ask the doctor before he started doing anything crazy.
My hubs and I arrived at our appointment plenty early, and what for? Everyone knows that you're supposed to show up late! Why? So you don't have to wait for an hour in the waiting room, of course! At any rate, we finally got called back and sat in the room, waiting and anxious. I looked around and noticed that the ultrasound machine was off. Hmm. Maybe he'd turn it on when he came in the room.
To my grave disappointment, the doctor entered the room and answered me negatively when I asked if he was going to be doing an ultrasound. No, he wasn't; but at least he was going to use the doppler to find the heartbeat of my child. That didn't make up for it completely, but. It was still a blessing. It's my first time, so. I'm a little anxious, here!
He found the heartbeat right away and it was sure fast! He listened for quite some time for any irregularities, I guess, and once again, it was just me and baby. All I could hear was the boom-boom of that little machine amplifying what was going on in my growing baby's body. I looked over at hubs and he had this big goofy grin on his face, too. Wow. We really have a baby in there! Every time I have an appointment, I always get this weird feeling that we won't hear or see anything. And when we do, it's just... surreal. I guess that's the only way I can describe this. A living being in my tummy. I'm growing him; I'm taking care of him; he goes with me everywhere I go; and I nurture him without even laying a hand on him. Wow.
He finished up and said that his guess was a boy, since the heartbeat was fast. Sure, it's one of the many ways people like to use to give their guess as to what the gender of a baby is, but. From what my husband and I had experienced since we started telling family and friends that we were having a baby, it just added on to the pile. Every family member, and most friends (those who are not are sarcastic and facetious friends), as soon as they found out, said, "Oh, it's going to be a boy for sure." And, I was certainly positive that it was a boy for some unknown reason, and so was my husband. So, from day one and on, we continue to refer to our little baby as He. Our little man.
We left the appointment super happy. I wasn't feeling great; I had my second migraine in several months, but I decided to go to work anyway. It wasn't terrible. I'd just gotten some new medicine from my doctor, and should be able to make it through work and come home to rest. Hah. Should I have even tried?
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