7 Thoughts I Had During My First Ultrasound Scan
At 13 weeks pregnant, I had my first ultrasound scan.
Here in the UK, it’s common to have two ultrasound scans.
The first is a dating scan, at around 12 weeks, so you can find out your estimated due date (and so you can feel angry and frustrated when the day comes and goes with no baby).
The second is an anomaly scan at 20 weeks.
For me, the first 12 weeks seemed to stretch out for an eternity, so that by the day of the scan, I was more than ready to see my baby, and find out whether everything was ok.
Thoughts During An Ultrasound Scan
Here are seven thoughts I had during the scan:
#1: A Pint? No Way!
I have to drink a pint (568ml) of water before this scan?
There is not a chance in hell of that happening.
There’s no way I could manage a full pint without being sick. Just thinking about it is making me nauseous. I will drink half a pint.
My bladder is probably much smaller than the average bladder anyway or I wouldn’t need to pee so often during the day. My bladder is probably more like a thimble. If they get annoyed at me for not drinking enough, I will be sick all over them. That’ll show them.
#2: I’m Going To Wet My Pants
Oh God, I’m definitely going to wet myself. I’m not a first time mama with a spritely pelvic floor. I’ve already had one baby. I really feel like that should be taken into consideration with the water allowance. If you’re at an increased risk of peeing all over the waiting room, you shouldn’t have to drink so much water.
Why isn’t anybody else jiggling around like they might be about to pee everywhere? Surely it can’t be just me who’s on the verge of embarrassing myself … can it?
‘Hmmm, how shall I get my kicks? Oh, I know! I’ll make pregnant women drink a ridiculous amount of water one hour before their appointment, so that they’re really desperate for the toilet. And, just when they think they can’t hold it any longer, I’ll tell them we’re running a little late and that they’ll have to wait another half hour.’
Look at them – the super sadistic staff of the ultrasound department – just waiting for one of us to pee. They’re probably taking bets on which one of us it will be. Well, whoever ’s backed me has picked a winner, because I am really close to just letting it all out.
Good thing these chairs are wipe-clean. I wonder how many women have peed on this chair. Oh God, stop it!
#3: Please Please Please
Ok, my turn. I’m so nervous. Please, please, please let there be a baby. Please let everything be ok. Please don’t be bad news. Please, please just be ok, little baby!
#4: Come on…. It’s 2016 People!
It’s 2016. My phone can tell me pretty much everything I need to know. There are dogs trained to sniff out cancer. There’s a spacecraft exploring Mars. But they still haven’t figured out a way of doing an ultrasound scan without slapping ice-cold gel all over my belly?
Come on. Why can’t she use warm gel? Or something less sticky altogether? Should I warn her that if she probes too hard I’m going to pee all over the bed? Nope, I’ll leave that as a surprise.
#5: There It Is!
Oh, thank God. It’s there, the baby’s there. Look at my baby! Look at those legs, and that arm waving around! And look at that beating heart. I’ve never seen anything more perfect in all of my life. Look at that little baby all snug inside my uterus.
I grew it out of NOTHING. Well, ok, out of a sperm and egg, but that’s basically nothing. I did it all myself. I grow babies. Look at that perfect little baby I grew. Wow! Look how wriggly the baby is. I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl. Definitely got his daddy’s nose.
#6: Please Don’t Stop
Oh, no, please don’t be over already. I’m not bored with looking at the baby yet. It’s only been about 30 seconds, hasn’t it? I only got a little glance. Please let me have a little longer.
I want to look at the baby’s face again, and see the baby wave at me again, and marvel at how long the baby’s little legs are. In eight more weeks, I’ll be able to see the baby again, I know, but eight weeks go by so slowly when you’re pregnant.
#7: How Much?!
Yes, I want a photo please. I want All The Photos.
I want to buy so many that I can wallpaper my living room with them, so I can keep looking at that amazing little baby inside my tummy.
Wait, hold on, they’re how much?
For a flimsy photo on this crazy thin paper? Is that some kind of joke?
I’ll just take two then, please. Ok, three.
Right, while you sort that out, I’m going to go and enjoy the world’s most satisfying pee.