Categories: uncategorized
Date: 05 September 2005 19:59:13
So there we are at the hospital, for a routine scan. We're actually in the middle of a camping holiday with most of our church, but as we're only about an hour from home we've decided to come home for the appointment rather than try to rearrange it. After all, it's a routine scan, we'll only be there twenty minutes.
For the twenty week scan, the mum-to-be has to have a very full bladder. They say this is to somehow make the image clearer, but I suspect that the sonographers have a competition going as to who can cause the most pregnant women to wet themselves by pressing really hard with the scanner thingy. They probably have a chart up in their staff room, with monthly prizes and everything.
I digress.
So, I have an uncomfortably full bladder, and she's been scanning for a few minutes, but baby b is in an awkward position* and she can't see what she wants to. So she sends me away to drink more water and _jump up and down_. That was fun. I go back in, and she can see what she needs to, but what she is seeing is not good. Suddenly, the sonographers voice becomes much softer, and she starts calling me 'lovey'. She explains that she is not happy with what she can see, and that she is going to phone the ward to see if a consultant can speak to us. She looks at me, and I know that this is bad news, that this is serious. I utter the immortal words:
"Can I go for a wee first please?"
*a feat he repeated at his birth, but believe me, you do not want me to go there.