Fast forward 3 weeks to Josh and I walking through into the doctor's office for the 1st ultrasound. It was like an ad from a magazine: the two of us, hand in hand, me glowing with the miracle of life, staring into each other's eyes, wordlessly sharing future dreams for our little baby. We were giggling like schoolgirls, envisioning my not-yet-showing tummy glistening with the ultrasound gel that would provide us the first glimpse of our baby-to-be. It was magical.
Okay, okay, I call bullshit on myself. Aaaand I just barfed in my mouth a little with the image. It was actually nothing like that. I am pretty sure that neither of us spoke a word because it was too early in the morning and I wasn't drinking coffee at that point, but, nonetheless, we were SUPER excited (and I was still kind of cute).
About two weeks after the first ultrasound.
So, they called my name and we started to walk back with the ultrasound tech when the bomb was dropped: "So, did they tell you that this is a transvaginal ultrasound?"
Me: "Excuse me?"
Tech: "Did the receptionist who scheduled this tell you that this ultrasound is transvaginal?"
Me: "Ummm. No."
Tech: "Ugh. Even though I tell them to, they never tell people on the phone. Do you know what a transvaginal ultrasound is?"
Me: "No, but I am pretty sure that I can figure it out." And, to myself, please stop saying the word transvaginal.
So, in to the room we went where I stripped down and was penetrated. Kidding.
Oh wait. No, I'm not.
It's not quite as vulgar as I just made it sound, and maybe it would have been better had I have been prepared, but I wasn't, so it was quite a shock.
Instead of the beautiful image of the gel on my belly and Josh holding my hand, it was Josh looking like he wanted the floor to open up while the ultrasound tech put a condom on the transvaginal ultrasound dildo. Yes, they use a condom. My doctor's office doesn't just preach safe sex; they practice it.
Maybe this is something that most people know about and I was just totally naive, but I felt compelled to write this post so that all women will be prepared. Well, as much as you can be prepared to lay spread eagle on a table while a woman sticks a dildo up your who-ha and points out your ovaries while your husband sits uncomfortably next to you, silently coming up with excuses of why he will have to miss your next two ultrasounds.
In fact, I would almost go as far as to say that it was my most awkward ultrasound moment, but then I remembered that at the 18 week ultrasound, Josh asked the technician if you could tell the race of the child on the ultrasound because we were unsure.
Kidding.
Oh wait. No, I'm not.
