Personally I love being surprised with a good old internal exam.
So there we were, having crawled out of bed at 5am to make our 8am appointment in Brisbane - thankfully the last of the dawn city raids.
We got to the city early, despite the incredible amount of commuters on the highway at that hour. So we had a coffee (decaf) and some raisin toast.
Then we took the lift up to the doctor's office and were finally called in.
As soon as we sat down and told the doctor where we were up to, we were up again into the little room down the corridor where the ultrasound machine thing was.
The three of us walked in, and quickly filled the space (it is a tiny room). Then he told me to hop up on the table before exiting the room and closing the door.
Strange, I thought. He's about to see my belly skin. He will have to in order to do the ultrasound with that jelly on the wand thing. Why would he want to be out of the room while I pulled my top up to expose my belly.
T and I shoot each other worried glances as the reality starts to dawn on me. "He doesn't want to do an internal, does he?" I ask with a panic-tinged tone.
T races out the door after him and double checks. Then comes back and laughingly tells me I do have to take my pants off and get up on the table.
Why was she laughing? Because I had asked her some hours before, while I was in the shower, if it would be an internal exam. "He won't have to...do that, will he?"
No, we both agreed. It would simply be a case of swishing the jelly wand over my belly.
Um, apparently not.
So I freaked out and started getting undressed, knowing that when it came to coming back into the little room, he had the timing of those ladies who work in lingerie departments - you know the ones who were there when you got your first bra...just as you are standing there with not a shred of fabric covering anything above your waist, and trying to figure out to to actually get into the bra, they fling open the door "everything alright in here, love".
As I strip jeans and shoes and knickers off, the panic rises. Ok, firstly, I must admit I am about one-sixth Greek, or something. Let me tell you, if you cannot already guess: hair removal is a full-time job for ladies of the Grecian, or Mediterranean, persuasion. In short, people, I had not kept up with the maintenance of my lady garden.
Secondly, the particular black socks I had chosen to wear that day sported two great big holes on the left. Why didn't I just take them off, you ask. That would be very wise counsel, were it not for the fact that it is winter, and I have not cut/polished/painted my toenails for about, oh, four months. I have not so much toenails, as prehistoric emu claws down there.
So there I am propped up gingerly on the table, waiting for judgement day. Haha. At the last minute, I scoop up that pathetic little pastel pink sheet all doctors have on those tables and cover myself up. Yeah, cos the man who is just about to excavate your vaginal area does NOT want to be looking at your hip skin or get even the slightest glimpse of your belly button, oh no! Yeah, that'll save me.
I mutter something incredulous when the doctor comes back in about believing it would simply be an ultrasound today...and won't you spear the fragile little embryo with the wand?
He readies the wand with a disconcerting amount of gel and a condom (WTF?) while saying: "Think about what heterosexual couples do, it is not going to go anywhere near it. And besides, if you don't think about that, I promise not to mention the holes in your socks". Bastard. Haha.
So there I am, waiting for that awkward pain as he shines the light and leans in. Honestly, I am expecting him at any minute to stop, put the wand down and call to his secretary: "Please call parks and gardens and tell them we need a team of five men - AND THEIR HEDGE CLIPPERS - before I can go anywhere near this one".
Haha, so what? In the scheme of things, I won't remember that. This is what I will remember, or rather, never forget.
What an amazing relief. Little embie is 1.4 centimetres long and yet still has a heart beat. We saw that heart beat. Wow. The doctor pointed out the spinal cord too. Double wow. I felt a physical jolt of warmth strike at my heart as soon as I saw that image. Like the connection between us suddenly got deeper. Triple wow. I am now seven weeks and six days.
Plus the doctor said I now have a 98% chance of having a healthy pregnancy. Where did he get that stat? I don't care, but I'm taking it.