A Quick Note on Ultrasounds

Stephanie J - this one is for you...

If you are a woman, chances are you've had a pelvic exam before. If you are a woman like me, chances are that every time you have to go in to see the OB/GYN you spend three hours in the shower preparing for it like you're going on a date with Brad Pitt.* But unless you're a woman who has been pregnant, especially a woman who has been pregnant with a possible at-risk pregnancy, you've never experienced the epic awesomeness** of the Internal Ultrasound.

In the last blog post, I posted a photograph of myself sitting on the examination table, in my OB/GYN's ultrasound room. Here is a breakdown of that photo.

Although I didn't draw a little arrow or write a description of them, to my left on the wall is the blood pressure cuff with the little squeezy ball that Sandy is completely incapable of leaving alone whenever we are left in the room by ourselves, and also the black "miner's helmet***" light on a stick, (thing that looks like a tire iron), that he threatens to "use on" me every time we are there. I have no idea what that threat actually means, and zero desire to find out.

Some facts you should be aware of. Prior to 9 weeks or so, it can be difficult for the OB to get a good look at your fetus, or check its heartbeat, from the outside of your body. Because of this, someone developed the Internal Ultrasound probe, which enables the good doc to get a whole lot closer to your uterus than an external ultrasound can do, that early on. This is because at the beginning, your uterus is still hiding behind your pelvis****, and it's kind of snuggled down amidst all your other organs, and getting a good look at it through all that is difficult, from the outside.

So instead they use the Internal Ultrasound probe. My first introduction to it was at the 8 week mark of my first pregnancy, last May. And initially, I didn't know what was about to happen to me. Then I saw Dr. G pick up the Internal Ultrasound probe, and I...well, to say I was a little surprised is an understatement. I thought ALL ultrasounds were external, you know - goo on belly, little paddly thing waffling around in goo, sudden happy picture of fetus on screen! No.

He picked this thing up, and he squirted a pretty impressive dollop of lubricant on top of it. When I say impressive, what I mean is that he probably had a job as a teenager at a soft-serve ice cream shop*****. I was busy squicking out in the privacy of my own head, when I saw him reach into a drawer, and pull out a condom. He rolled this down over the giant pile of lubricant and all the way down the length of the probe. Largest. Trojan. Ever.

I was still adjusting to this development when he once again reached for the lubricant, and repeated his earlier feat of balancing an enormous pile of lubricant on top of a fairly small surface area at the top of the probe. If the age old philosopher's question was changed from "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin" to "How much lubricant can be balanced on the head of a pin" - then the answer, provided it was applied to the head of the pin by Dr. G, would be "A WHOLE LOT."

I pointed this out to him. "Um. That's a LOT of lubricant, Dr. G..."

He laughed. So did the attending nurse. Urg.

I'm pretty sure you can imagine what came next.

Which brings me to my next story. At my OB's office, there are several doctors, a few midwives, and nurses, etc. And a woman using the practice is required to see ALL of the doctors at least once during her pregnancy, in case Dr. G is benched or at another delivery when your baby decides it's time to be delivered. So at the 9 week mark, I was due for another ultrasound to check on things, and it was scheduled with a different doctor. When Sandy and I arrived at the office and met the doctor, we discovered that he was young, and very handsome, and sort of resembled Enrique Iglesias. He stuck us into a regular room, talked to us for a little bit, said the ultrasound room would be free in a moment, and left, (although he did give me a mild panic attack by saying, "the room will be free shortly, and then we will see the hearts." And I said, "HEART! HEART!" because ever since I got pregnant Meg has said I'm having twins but that is NOT AN OPTION. Anyway, he looked at me like I had Tourettes and just said, "Yes.")

And I immediately freaked out at Sandy.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. There's no way Enrique there is probing me! There's just no way. Sandy. Sandy. Oh my god. The probe! The goo, Sandy!!! The horrible goo!!! Noooooooo!"

Gentlemen, it is a fact. Most of us would way rather have an older gentleman or any woman, really, performing that service, than a very attractive young man. Imagine having Angelina Jolie give you a proctology exam, and you'll understand why.

Whether or not Enrique was listening outside the door, I cannot say. What I know for a fact however is that when the nurse escorted us into the ultrasound room and started fussing with the machine, and I asked her if I needed to "drop trou" as I put it, she said no, and to hop up on the table.

And that, children, is the story of my first external ultrasound. When the doctor came in, all he said was, "at 9 weeks, we should be able to see the heartbeat from the outside, no problem." I've often wondered if he heard me.

And ever since, Sandy has joked about me going into labor, and the only doctor available being Enrique. And then Sandy sings a few lines of "Hero" at me.

* Or the male, (or female), celebrity of your choice, with whom you are hoping to get busy. Look guys. We realize this is insane, that he or she is a doctor and has seen all sorts of...stuff, and that whether or not our legs are shaved is probably not going to turn into cooler talk amongst the gynecologist's office staff. And speaking for me, my doctor looks like the scientist dude who invented the Flux Capacitor from Back to the Future, so clearly he is not some kind of sex object for me. That doesn't matter. We can't explain it. It's just something we have to do. Like vacuuming the house before we have company over.

** Yes. That was sarcasm.

*** Sandy's name for it. Urg.

**** Enabling the fetus to use your bladder for a trampoline.

***** And oooooh, now I want some soft serve ice cream...