The nuchal made me wanna puke-al

Ah the nuchal ultrasound - a little peace of mind for us "at-risk" mommies-to-be.  Shan, you say, what do you mean you, at-risk?  Well you see, apparently in the world of baby having, over 35 = bad.  All pregnancy books list things to do and not to do and mention often, "unless you are over 35" - it seems I'm the pregnancy equivalent of drinking from a carton of milk past the expiry date (don't pretend like you never have - a quick sniff and down the hatch).
So being "OLD" for baby rearing means they have to check for genetic abnormalities just in case one of my old eggs got fertilized and is now doing all sorts of nasty genetic stuff, like spina bifida and Down's Syndrome.
To be able to see the baby pretty good, you have to drink a couple glasses of water an hour before your ultrasound.  Well dammit, I had to chug-a-lug my whole bottle of water at my physical so I could pee in a cup!  Off to Mac's to buy some more water.  Hmm... doctors appointment is done by just after 9 and my ultrasound isn't scheduled until 10:45.  I'll just go early, maybe they can squish me in. Crap, I better chug-a-lug this water too because already emptied my bladder for the "cup".
Drive off to the ultrasound place, and mention to the nice receptionist, that yes, I know I'm here at 9:30 and my appointment isn't for over an hour. Is there any way of me getting in early?  She goes and talks to the technician and comes back and tells me, make sure you're back here by 10, sit over there, and you should be in early.  Thank God I brought a book. 
Ten am and I'm sitting in my designated spot.  Crack open book.  Damn this is a good book.  Try to get into book and ignore the growing discomfort in my bladder region.  Must have full bladder so baby can't hide from the tech. 
Suddenly a girl comes over and asks if I'm pregnant and under 20 weeks.  I say yes and she launches into this big sales pitch of a speech, basically trying to get me to be a part of some study she's doing at the university.  I hear blah blah blah, as she's distracting me from distracting myself from my full bladder.  I nod in what I think are the right spots, take the pamphlet and back to my book.  Maybe I better check the time.  Interesting, it's 10:20.  Can't pee, must hold it.  Must be going in any minute now. 
Read more book.  Shift uncomfortably in my seat.  Should've worn a Poise pad in case of leakage. Look at time - 10:45.  Hmmm...  This is starting to hurt a little. Read more book - concentrate REALLY hard... look at time - 11:05. 
Okay that's it.  Get up and walk painfully and very gently over to the receptionist.  Another one of those look-I'm-smiling-sweetly-but-secretly-I-want-scream looks and say, hey remember me?  You said I could get in early at 10?  It's now 11:20 and my actual appointment was at 10:45?  My bladder is so full I could use it as a flotation device.
She goes to the back, tells me to wait and then the ultrasound tech comes out and finally calls my name.  Into the little room and EEEEP cold gel.  She starts to push on my tummy and I'm closing my eyes, trying to think of mind over matter, as if I'm in the Kung Fu Panda movie or something like that.  Then she informs me, the bladder's too full.  Hands me another cup, and tells me to pee out 3 of those cups and then I'll be good.
Dammit once you start...  do my damnedest, I think I got closer to 4 but back in the room and now it's all good - more EEEP cold gel, and pushing on my tummy. 
She starts pounding the ultrasound mallet thing into my gut - WTF?!?  After about the 8th jab, I say is something wrong?  Oh the baby is facing the wrong way.  Trying to get it to turn around.  Uh, anything I can do?  4 or 5 more jabs, and the tech tells me to cough and there we go - baby flips.  Could've told you that one - you try to force my baby to do something and she/he's gonna fight you.  Get the measurements and finally to the bathroom... nice.
All the test results come back, and get called into a room with a nurse.  This seems ominous.  Get told the chances of having a baby with Down's Syndrome is 1 in 155 because I'm old.  WHAT?!  With those odds, I would buy a lottery ticket!  Then she looks at my results and says, oh, but you're good - chance of 1 in 4000 and something. 
Oh lady, you are so lucky that I am so relieved to have finally peed again or I would've had to hurt you.

Let's get physical

Oh what a thrilling day - I was 12 weeks and 3 days, which meant it was time for my pre-natal physical and my nuchal ultrasound. 
First thing in the morning, off to the doctors for that always fun physical.  Of course, it was right at 8am, so I got up, washed and peed and headed out with my trusty english muffin with PB (one thing the baby seems to consistently like, although now that I've written it here, she/he will probably change their little developing mind).
Get to the office and surprise of surprises, get in right away!  There's a new nurse and the first thing she does is hand me a lovely cup to pee in while she's weighing me.  WHAT?!?  I just went before I left the house!! Break out the water bottle and start chugging like I'm doing boat races back in college.
Next up, let's fill out these pregnancy information forms on the fun computer system at the doctor's office.  Well, interesting. New nurse means I'm the first pregnant patient and so she hasn't done these forms before and so she's asking me questions.  I am returning blank stares, waiting for the chugged water to kick in.  After bringing in the receptionist and answering my very personal questions to her (BTW, do doctor's receptionists have to keep confidential too?  Probably should've asked that first...), then it's time to go pee.  Wait.  There's one bathroom in the doctor's office and it seems as though a male patient has decided to set up his morning office, complete with coffee and a paper in there.  Knock knock!  My bladder is full and unless I want to scar the children in this waiting room with my uncontrollable "leakage," I'd recommend you read the sports page OUT HERE.  Comes out, shoots me a dirty look.  Smile sweetly and go in. Pee in cup.  AHHHHHHHHHHH...
Back to the little room and there's a robe there and told to get undressed. No prob, thanks to the new uniform of yoga pants.  Doctor comes in, checks the boobs and then breaks out the stirrups.  WHAT?!?  So not only do I have to go and have blood taken as though I'm a vampire snack machine, I also get the dreaded SPECULUM again?!  Boys - google it.  It makes turning your head and coughing sound fun.
Go to my happy place...  Hi pretty shoes!  Oh hello pedicure... why yes, I am a model in my spare time...
Thank God THAT'S done.  So for the foreseeable future, I not only get to be needled regularly, but now I also get to be "probed" for lack of a better term.  Maybe all the people who thought they were abducted by aliens were just pregnant too.

I Miss Cow

Oh baby... why oh why do you like to make mommy sick?!  You see, that's how come I took a pregnancy test in the first place - I was feeling nauseous and tired and BLAM - baby.
I've been a (mostly) good little pregnant lady and I've been diligently (sort of) reading pregnancy books. They tell me foods I should be eating which in turn makes me REALLY want to eat most of them, except for one little tidbit of information - baby doesn't want to.  And you know, if baby doesn't want it, she/he sure as hell is making sure that Momma will no longer want to eat it.
Take delicious cheeseburgers - I quite enjoy a juicy, run down my chin, completely loaded to the tits cheeseburger.  As a matter of fact, every Thursday, my boyfriend makes big, juicy cheeseburgers as the lunch special in his corner store.  I have begun to loathe Thursdays. 
I see those burgers and I used to think, hey maybe me and Ty will share one and I can put extra tomato and it will be so good and my tummy will be oh so happy.  Nowadays, I just think don't breathe through your nose or the kashi cereal you had for breakfast is gonna make a reappearance.  It is literally like torture.  I think the stock I originally had in my beloved kit kat bars needs to go to my new savior in life - Premium Plus saltines.  Actually, I bet that if there was a consumer survey done, 80% of the Premium Plus' sales come from pregnant women and/or their significant others trying to keep them from puking.
OH!  I just developed a new sneaky suspicion...  You know how people say that there could've been an electric car years, if not decades ago, except big oil has kept it pushed down and killed the projects?!
Well, I think that morning sickness (if only it was contained to the morning) could've been cured years ago but that there's a secret nausea coalition consisting of saltines makers, ginger products, those preggie pops, and anything else recommended to women for nausea and they've paid big bucks to make sure that the cure disappears!!!!!
Okay, maybe I sound a little crazy, but I really miss taking a nice big slab of cow and throwin' it on the BBQ to a nice medium rare, with a little mushrooms and some veggies and digging in without the overwhelming feeling of complete revulsion.
What's a pre-pregnancy meat-itarian to do?!

Invasion of the babies 2011

Maybe I just never noticed it before.  Here I am, knocked up, nauseous, with a complete aversion to my usual coping mechanisms (aka ice cream and chocolate - I know Oprah has something to say about that) and I just seem to be seeing pregnancy and babies EVERYWHERE!  Were they always so OUT THERE?!  This coming from a former fag hag - if you don't know, that means I used to hang out with a lot of gay men all the time - and I never noticed gay men more than usual... Although I did have a superb gay-dar.
I digress.  I'm watching TV, and on a commercial for Parenthood, a guy pulls out of the trash... a positive Clear Blue Easy stick, which I now know all too well.  On Facebook, it seems as though friend after friend after acquaintance is either pregnant, just had a baby, or congratulating a friend / relative for being pregnant / having a baby. REALLY?
Hell, I'm even just driving around, running errands, minding my own business and there's a billboard with a pregnant woman, I pass a baby diaper van, and see a woman in the mall just whip out the boob for a little baby afternoon snack.  WTF?!
I'll hide from the invading babies.  Turn on TLC, maybe watch Say Yes to the Dress - dammit, pregnant bride.  Switch to National Geographic - The Dog Whisperer.  Crap, dog's jealous of new baby.  Food Network!  Watch one of many cupcake shows and... they're doing a baby shower.  This is getting ridiculous.
I know. I'll be a good girlfriend and sit here and watch hockey playoffs with my boyfriend.  All good - a couple fights, some goals, then the break when Don Cherry and Ron McLean congratulate a hockey player who's wife just had a baby that morning.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHH They're everywhere!
Even my beloved Grey's Anatomy has TWO separate baby story lines.  I'd start watching UFC but then with my luck, Georges St Pierre will become embroiled in a paternity scandal.  
I guess I'm gonna have to train myself to a new coping mechanism - teeny little oranges anyone?

What's this "we" white boy?

On Easter we headed over to Ty's Grandpa's house where his Mom was making a big delicious dinner (Right now, the idea of cooking anything is completely disgusting so a prepared meal is right up my alley).  Of course, he told his Grandpa "THE NEWS" and Thank God I didn't have to pretend to feel just fine when I really want to curl in a little ball and pray for the waves of nausea to dissipate.
Get there and realize, Ty forgot to tell Grandpa to keep a secret.  Everyone is looking at me with this air of expectation, like I'm supposed to suddenly do a back flip and pop out a baby while standing in a ring of fire.  They ask how I'm feeling and I say nauseous and they all let out their breath.  Oh so we don't have to pretend we don't know?!  Oh yeah, because you were doing such a great job "pretending".
Tyler and his Uncle Willy (for real, not making that name up) decide they're gonna get into the beer.  We're all in the living room visiting and with his 3rd beer in hand, sitting on the floor, Tyler starts talking about how exciting and tiring it is now that "WE'RE" pregnant.  "We" white boy?!
Hmmmm, I'm pretty sure you were out on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday having drinks with your buddies while I was at home trying to keep the room from spinning, munching on saltines.  If this is a "we" situation, could you take the little bundle of joy next weekend while I go out for some sushi and martinis with the girls?
Could you be pregnant for me so I can break out my heels again instead of wanting to wear nothing but yoga pants and Uggs?
He says that he's been hungrier and more tired since I got pregnant too - really?  You have another life setting up their new Shanny uterine condo with extensive renovations inside of you for the next 7 months?  Believe it or not, when you eat pizza by the slice and late night poutine, the baby doesn't actually get nutrients from it.  The food actually has to be consumed by the Momma, in case you skipped that day in biology.
Luckily, he's saved by dinner and my total love of turkey, gravy, and stuffing - a few minutes in and I forget the rest of my totally excellent pregnancy zings.  Plate's empty already?  Hey you - since "we're" pregnant, go get me more food.

I would've preferred Monica Lewinsky for an intern

So all the lovely first round tests were done.  Only thing to do is back to my doctor to see what everything means.  Oh, if only it had been that simple...
The appointment is made and like a good little nauseous pregnant chick, I show up nice and early with my bottle of water and package of saltines at the ready for my 2 pm appointment.  Two o'clock comes and goes.  See you later 2:15.  We're closing in on 2:30 when a woman I've never seen comes out an introduces herself as my doctor's resident (basically, an intern).  She asks if she can examine me and I figure what the hell - it's just going over test results, right?  Oh Shannon, how could you be so wrong...
First off, the ultrasound - I see it on the computer screen.  Pretty straight forward.  There are 2 dates - the one based on my last menstrual cycle, and the one based on the measuring of the baby.  Of course, they're different, but one would think (especially if one has gone to medical school) that when there are 2 dates, you would go with the ultrasound which seems a little more based in actually hard core data.  Apparently, this was beyond the intern.  Oh, it says 8 weeks and 3 days here by it says only 5 weeks here.  Oh. this seems confusing - she debated back and forth with me trying to interject for 5 minutes until she goes out and gets this wheel thing that reminds me of high school geometry and asks for the date of my last period and announces definitively 5 weeks.
I take a deep breath. Really, you've got medical training?  With an afternoon googling and half a pregnancy book read, I seem to know more. I say, if I'm only 5 weeks, then how would there be a heartbeat.  Confused look across the face.  She must go consult with the doctor.  Comes back and announces that I am 8 weeks and 3 days. I could've told you that 15 minutes ago.
Next, I tell her that I'm nauseous all the time and that I have never liked drinking milk (it's just weird).  Then I ask if I should be taking a calcium supplement.  Mistake #2 Shanny.  She thinks I need something to help combat the nausea (GOOD) because then I can start drinking milk again.  AGAIN?!?  Are you listening?!  I hate milk!  I didn't drink it when I was a teenager, in my 20's (unless mixed with Kahlua) and I don't want to drink it now!  Can I take a calcium supplement.  Another blank look and off to find the doctor.  Back she comes and tries to give me a withering look, saying I SHOULD be drinking milk, but if I have such an aversion, she guesses I could take a supplement. This is really rocket science isn't it?
Now she decides we need to take a little listen for the baby's heartbeat (you know, since we've now established that I'm 8 weeks pregnant).  She breaks out this little contraption that's got what basically looks like an old walkman attached to one end.  She turns it on and it's all static - then she slathers on ice cold gel and starts pushing it into my abdomen, specifically my bladder.  ARE YOU INSANE?  I'm drinking water  like it's my lifeblood and without any notice you're pushing on my bladder? It would serve you right if I peed all over you. (I didn't by the way, just a little part of me wanted to)
To distract myself, I am still a little vain and knowing my stomach is going to be growing to basketball or large watermelon like proportions, I want to know if I can get my hair coloured or at least highlighted.  She stops and looks at me like I've suggested that I throw a kegger next weekend.  That is so dangerous, she says.
Then 2 seconds later she announces nonchalantly that she can't find the heartbeat.  Anyone else and I'd probably be bawling, but I don't think this one could find a jellybean in a candy store.
Thank God. The doctor stops in on my now 45 minute appointment to see what's taking so long.  I quickly recap and she says, it's unlikely you'd hear the heartbeat on that machine this early and oh yeah no problem about your hair - get highlights and wait until the second trimester to be safe.  Was that so difficult?!?
Pull up the yoga pants and I am outta here before this intern lays another hand on me.  At least Monica Lewinsky could've told me some good stories.

Ultrasound a-go-go

Of course, being preggers, the doctor wants ultrasounds - well, at least there's no needles involved.  Onto the phone once again to make another friggin' appointment (as an aside, how do pregnant women find time to work?  I feel like I have an appointment every week and sometimes lots!)
Anyhoo, get a very nice lady and I explain I'll go to any location in Calgary, I just want the first appointment available.  Then she very sweetly offers me one - in 5 weeks.  WHAT?!?  This is a city of over a million people and the soonest I can get in is 5 weeks?!  At this rate I won't be finished getting ultrasounds until my baby is walking around, inadvertently learning bad words from her mommy because she can't get into her final untrasounds!
Then she offers me a choice - I can go out of town to Airdrie, just north of town, and get in this Friday.  Well that's more like it and while I'm out there, there's a giant mall of awesomeness I could explore - pregnancy brings with it a whole host of new shopping opportunities.
So Friday comes and off I go to the booming metropolis of Airdrie, Alberta.  Find the ultrasound clinic no problem and off I go to check in - talking to the receptionist and over saunters Rachelle - one of my oldest friends (If you're reading this Rachelle I don't mean you're old, just that we've been friends a really f*ing long time)
I get a knowing smile with my hello and I say "Well, I guess you know!" So much for not telling any of my friends yet.  Well Rach takes me back to her little room and slathers on the gel, which she has very considerately warmed up.  She's looking around and says yep, there's the baby and then says that the heartbeat is good and strong.
Wait a minute... Heartbeat?  I thought you only saw a heartbeat after like 6 weeks.  I get that poor pitying you-really-have-no-idea look and she informs me "Buddy, you're 8 weeks pregnant.  Actually 8 weeks and 3 days."
Good thing I'm lying down or I probably would've fallen down.  I only found out I'm pregnant 5 days ago!  Didn't really miss a period (Oh that's apparently spotting and implantation bleeding) and I've only been sick for 2 weeks! 
Holy crap, mental inventory of all things I have done over the last 8 weeks - No taking of folic acid, or practically any other vitamin (BAD), went for cocktails, but at least not any all out craziness (BAD), ate sushi (BAD), spent a whole week drinking coffee and energy drinks hard core (BAD)...
Oh no - I've got a vitamin deficient, drunken, Japanese caffeine hound in there.  Is there such a thing as pre-natal rehab for the baby?

Me & Tomato = Kindred spirits

In high school, I went to an all girls school and as such, we HAD to take sewing in Grade 9.  I sucked - I sewed together a leg of the shorts I was making.  One thing I remember was my little tomato - my tomato pin cushion.  It was super cute and now, I feel as though I understand the tomato so much more...
I long ago discovered I have 2 unfortunate conditions I guess you would call it (although that seems a little extreme) - I have teeny baby veins and those babies are buried deep.  As in, I have had years of phlebotomists poking me and prodding me and 98% of the time, they are not gentle.  Of course, I have developed what I think is a healthy fear of needles - if something hurts you A LOT 98% of the time, you'd be scared too!!
Fast forward and I'm pregnant.  Turns out the doctor wants your blood all the time. Check for this, that, and that other thing too and then do it all again in a few weeks.
First though is that pesky initial screening.  Drink lots of water all day so I have happy juicy (hopefully) veins.  Off I go to Calgary Lab Services with my handy scheduled appointment.  Start the deep breathing.  Open the door and notice my hands are a little clammier than when I got out of the car.  Wow, they called me already? My appointment's not for 15 minutes.  Breathe deeper.
Hello nice tiny little Asian phlebotomist. Explain I have a slight fear of needles. She tells me no problem, she's been doing it for 15 years.  Elastic band around right arm - tap tap, needle seized and plunged into the crick of my elbow.  Actually feel it move and I swear the vein ran away from her.  "Oh that no work." No fucking kidding.
Elastic band around left arm - warm compress this time, then tap, tap, tap and in the needle goes!  Tears are welling up and I swear this is some sort of torture to see if I can possibly endure labour and then my worst fear - "That no work either.  Gimme your hand."  THIS is 15 years experience?!?  Maybe I'd do better with 15 minutes experience because at least that person would feel something about hurting me!
Motherf*.  Hand hurts the worst and this little Asian devil seems to be enjoying the infliction of pain.  Along comes the warm compress (because that worked so spectacularly last time) and a double elastic around my wrist.  "Oh dis vein looks good" and before I can even turn my head away, in goes another friggin' needle. OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW don't vomit don't vomit don't vomit
Two vials filled, I get thrown a cup to pee in and a third cotton ball on my third owwie.
Gee, pregnancy is turning out to be so fun and just think, I get to come back in 3 weeks.  Well, at least I still get to be nauseous all the time.
God, I already miss vodka.