I was joking with Seth in the parking lot as we were wondering how the doctor’s office would break our hearts THIS week.
I knew things were not good when we went right instead of left into the Doctor’s office. Right means Doppler. Left means ultrasound. When I passive-aggressively told the nurse how excited I was about getting an ultrasound today, she was like, “What ultrasound?”
Apparently, some tech named Laura does all the 20-week ultrasounds, and I need to make an appointment with Laura. Except nobody told me about Laura. Laura. Laura. Laura. You haven’t yet made your appointment with Laura?
Who the eff is Laura?
The completely competent scheduling ladies must’ve forgotten about Laura. For those keeping track at home, that’s three out of four OB appointments they have somehow screwed up and had to reschedule. We’re at a 75 percent FAIL rate. And they also must’ve forgotten when they were like, “Dr. Charles will do your ultrasound at 20 weeks. Are you finding out the gender?!?!?” a scant two weeks ago.
Sigh. Cursed baby factory.
They tricked me by sending Dr. Charles in to break the bad news about Laura–all but extinguishing my wall of indignant rage. Dr. Charles is the one I love the most. And the reason I haven’t abandoned these co-pay-hungry animals. She is sooo chipper and sweet and nice and it is so hard to stay mad at her. Instead of apologizing or anything, she pulled a crafty move by asking, “Have you scheduled your 20 week ultrasound with Laura yet?”
Suddenly, it was my fault again.
Instead of throwing a holy tantrum, I just said, “No one told me anything about Laura. They told me that you would be giving me an ultrasound today.”
Then she pretended like she had no idea why anyone would tell me that she — um, my doctor? — does the ultrasounds. Laura does those.
So poor Dr. Charles tried to change the subject by asking questions about my pregnancy.
“HOW ARE YOU FEELING?!?!”
It quickly became clear that Seth and I were not in the mood to be chatty. Seth had just learned that he had shifted things around at work to drive to Dublin to watch me pay $30 to pee in a cup, apparently. I guess I would’ve had to do that anyway, but it would have been nice to know that he wouldn’t necessarily have needed to be there for it.
“ARE YOU FEELING ANY MOVEMENT?!”
Seth, too, remembers Dr. Charles talking about how she would do my 20-week ultrasound, so we have a witness that I am not completely insane when I am making these appointments. Or at least I wasn’t when I started going to Columbus OBGYN.
“HOW ARE YOUR BOWELS?!?!”
We were mostly just staring at her in stony silence. We were feeling a little let down. You have to admire her spirit for trying.
She pulled out the Doppler, and we got to hear the baby’s heartbeat again, which is always fun, no matter how annoyed you feel at the moment.
She looked worried for a split second and I was relieved when she said, “I have not heard a baby this active in a long time!”
Apparently Tot Two is a mover and a shaker.
“Hear all those muffled sounds?” she asked us. “Those are the baby kicking and punching the Doppler.”
There were approximately 40 of those sounds in about a 15-second interval, so apparently, Tot has had about enough of their shit, too.
She walked me personally to the scheduling desk to make sure I had the first available appointment with Laura — either because she felt bad and wanted me to feel like she was doing her part, or because she thought I was completely incapable of scheduling an appointment with Laura. I feel like she wanted to apologize, but instead she kept emphasizing that there had been “confusion.”
Seth noticed that no one apologized to us the entire time. He hypothesizes that Doctors can’t say, “I’m sorry,” without admitting fault and therefor opening themselves up to some kind of lawsuit or something. He is also convinced that I should just skip the rest of these $30 chat sessions and come back when my water breaks. I can’t really argue with him at this point.
Oh — the results of our quad screening came back positive. Or negative. Whatever the case may be, Tot doesn’t have Down Syndrome, which is a good thing, I guess.
I’m really hoping that I won’t have to make an appointment for delivery.
So, we shall find out on Tuesday. I mean … we will drive to Dublin on Tuesday. Lord knows what will happen when we get there. Man makes plans …
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