After the escapade with my paycheck, my lovely fairyblogmother Bluepoppy left a comment about Mercury in retrograde. Which, we all know how I feel about Mercury in retrograde. I wrote a post about it one time, but I can't find it. Anyway, the darling Bluepoppy, she has a brilliant, funny post about that rascally retrograded Mercury up now, and I encourage you to go read it, after you've left me kind, loving comments consoling me of my latest disappointment. I'm pregnant, you have to be nice to me, or I will eat all your food. That's like The Green Bean Kid telling another child, "You have to share with me," I know.
For weeks now I've been looking forward to my latest doctor's appointment. I was ready to find out what this twitchy baby is, and so is everyone else around me. All my darling, funny church friends. My aunt in Texas. My coworkers. Some of you out there in the blog world. For weeks now, I've been chanting, "The 27th, we'll find out on the 27th." Yesterday morning I even rose from my bed early, and that lets you know how much I was looking forward to getting the day started. (Also, the dog was making sounds like he was going to throw up, so I had to get up.) I ate some breakfast, wrote a post that will hang out in my drafts until...sometime later. On the way to work I called my mom and said, "Happy Baby D-Day!" and spent the morning blissfully counting the hours down. Finding I wasn't hungry, I drove straight to the clinic - and heard Aretha Franklin on the way, feeling that it was a strong omen for a GIRL CHILD - and arrived 45 minutes early for my appointment. 45 MINUTES! You should hear angels singing right about now. The waiting room was empty, a barren land of chairs and magazines, and no one to go before me. Mercury did not keep me from being called for my appointment exactly on time, surely a miracle! As Mom and I were in the small room where they check your blood pressure, I mentioned something to the nurse, how we were really excited to find out what the baby was, today! Today is the day!
She, with her Pooh bear festooned scrubs, looked at me like I was yet another crazy pregnant woman. With great blood pressure. "We don't have the ultrasound machine anymore," she said. "The technician was only here for a little while, and now she's gone."
All around me I heard the crashing of all my happy plans for the rest of the day, all the jubilant phone calls I'd hoped to make. "Are you serious?" I asked. Sadly, she was. I go to a rather ghetto clinic, it seems. I did know, somewhere in the back of my mind, that they usually refer you over the affiliated hospital for such things, but I've had two ultrasounds there before, and didn't think twice that the same girl wouldn't be there. I thought wildly, "I now understand why Tom Cruise bought an ultrasound for his own home. So he wouldn't have to deal with this kind of problem." Perhaps I even wished I was a good friend, so I could call him up and instead of asking if he'd TiVoed Grey's Anatomy and could I come over, ask to use the ultrasound machine instead. You know I was in a desperate place to wish I was actually friends with Tom Cruise, right?
Consolation: we did hear the baby's heartbeat, strong and fast. That was fabulous, and it's extremely reassuring to know that I'm not experiencing some phantom, delusional pregnancy. Of course, the baby could have three arms at this point, but we haven't seen photographic proof of such. I was due for a checkup, anyway, and got all of my lab work done, and a rather uncomfortable Pap smear, which made me feel like a pig was rooting around my uterus, looking for truffles. But still, the disappointment really hit me later, and I felt lost in a hole of it. I know it shouldn't really matter, it was just I was really looking forward to start calling this baby by its name, to share the fun with everyone who cares and loves us. If all goes well with tricksey new insurance, I'll be able to go next week! to a real hospital! which is simply chock full of ultrasound machines! Otherwise, I'll have to wait a little longer, as paying full price for an ultrasound I don't really need is a little foolish.
All this to say: Mercury, we are not friends.