38 days till I'm 30

I had my second and final ultrasound yesterday. I had every intention of finding out the sex, but as it turns out, the results were inconclusive. The technician, who seemed to be in training, at first thought it was a boy. But then he back-peddled and said he wasn't really sure. And the shots we got looked like they could be male, but... not in any definite sort of way. The sex was not included on the final report to my midwife.

So I'm about 70% sure I'm pregnant with a son. This means neutral colours (But not yellow. Ugh, don't care for yellow) and sticking to buying the basics rather than getting caught up in gender-specific items. Which is fine. Between all our family members who've had children in recent years, there will be many hand-me-downs for whatever sex we wind up having.

I have mixed feelings. On one hand, a boy would be charming. I'm always so charmed by boys. They're sweet when they're young and it'd be nice to put a good man out in to the world. But then I've always felt I would have a daughter and pass on things to her, knowledge and stories, feminine things. There's a gain and a loss with either, and since I don't care to have more than one (This may change, I suppose, but seriously we can only afford one. Daycare is monstrously expensive) it's best to get on board with whatever nature has selected for me.

Everything else on the ultrasound looked fine. I'm in good shape, the baby is progressing normally and there is no need for another scan. From here on out, I think it's just a waiting game.

I've been trying to think about how I'll spend my 30th birthday.I have a month and change till that happens and going out for drinks is off the menu. I have the odd glass of red wine here and there, but I'd rather plan a birthday that doesn't involve a late night with booze. A little booze, sure, but not a lot. I know other people would have fun, but I might get a little bitter having to sit out on my own birthday. Maybe an afternoon of tea. Or just taking myself to the spa and mellowing out, with friends coming over for cake later on. That might be more my speed these days. Oh, I'm old!

And to think I labelled this WTF I'm Almost 30 and I'll likely wind up hitting 30 with dull roar and a nap. Go figure.

I say yes, you say no, I say pelvic ultrasound, you say go-go-go

This entry features smatterings of TMI, FYI.

So today was an exercise in patience. Everything seemed to be on track until about 10:30. I arrived at 9:30 for my ultrasound appointment. Was all good and pumped for the pelvic one, which is no small thing.

I started off asking the ultrasound lady if the gel was going to be cold. She said yes as she gave it a hefty squirt all over my tummy. It was mildly uncomfortable, but whateves. It wasn't the bad part so I went with it. Thing is, though, she told me to get dressed after.

Me: I was told there was going to be a pelvic ultrasound.
Her: Nope.
Me: They wanted to check for ovarian cysts.
Her: No. Your pain is in your sides. That's the kidneys.
Me: They scheduled me for it. They're going to want to see results.
Her: There's nothing I can do for you.
Me: But--
Her: No, that's all there is. Get dressed.

*Sigh* She was all assertive and stuff and I wasn't wearing pants, so she won. I got dressed and told the people downstairs that I didn't get the second ultrasound. And then there was running around and questions and eventually I was told to wait in the waiting room.

Two hours and change. Then they have me move to... another waiting room. I'm not sure how long I was there exactly. It was marked "Interview" and had calming colours. At first I was freaked out because it looked like a place you tell people bad news.

But when 15 minutes passed and no one came, I figured no news was good news so I took a nap in the chair. I briefly woke up to see a nurse walk past and shake her head at me.

About 1:45 I was sent up for the pelvic ultrasound. Same woman. I wanted to say I told you so. She noticed my small scars from when I had my appendix out a few years ago. She asked about them and I said they were from an appendectomy.

Her: Oh! (Laughs)
Me: Uh yeah, hahaha? (The hell?)

I dunno, I didn't get it either. Didn't think I made a joke. She wanted to know when my last period was. I thought about it and said Saturday.

Me: It's one day
Her: When was the first day of your last period?
Me: I think it was Friday or Saturday. It's over now. It lasted one day.
Her: Is it your 10th day into your cycle?
Me: No, my period just ended. It started Saturday. It lasted one day.
Her: Last Saturday?
Me: This Saturday.
Her: Are you having your period now?
Me: No. It's over. It lasted one day.

And this is where she brought her fingers to her forehead and furrowed her brow, because clearly it was I who was giving her the headache. Eventually she grasped what I was saying.

Her: Your period lasted one day? It was this weekend and it's over.
Me: Yes.
Her: Is this normal for you?!
Me: Um... yes? (Why is she mad at me? Jebus Murphy)

This dialogue went on with accusing questions about how I could let myself have such strange menstrual cycles for so long. It's not like I've never mentioned it to a medical professional before. I have. They all say "Lucky you!" I dunno. It's very convenient and I haven't been inclined to see if I can make it longer again. God hands you so little favours, why look a gift menses in the mouth?

As predicted the whole magic wand in the hoo-ha procedure was a little icky and unpleasant. I don't recommend it if you're looking for a good time. But rather than wait this time, I took matters into my own hands. See, I hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day. I also only went to the bathroom for the first time at 2:00 pm. I was pretty much done.

So I walked into the clinic area and said if they had any news for me, I'd like a phone call because the time I had left to stick around was limited. And just like that, within 20 minutes I saw a doctor, got my results and was out of there, but not before someone made me change into another hospital gown for no reason.

Diagnosis? None. My ovaries both apparently have quite a few follicles on them, and the doctor took a stab and guessed one had grown into a cyst and burst, causing my pain. He recommended Advil. Huh.

So I guess I'll take my results to my family doctor for her records and see what happens. I feel like I went through a lot for very little gain. Last time I went to this Urgent Care Centre they couldn't find anything wrong either and within a week or so I had to have my appendix out. So I don't entirely have the same faith in them as I do, say, Toronto Western ER. But anyway, the day is over. That's all that really matters to me. I'm going to have some hot chocolate.

To be a woman.

Sometimes I complain about being a woman. And rightly so, I think. I don't care what anyone says, having a female body, whilst beautiful and lovely and all that jazz, is a pain the cervix.

Risking TMI Land, and now that I've issued a warning I no longer care about causing offense, I have had a rough couple of days. It began with a moderate cramp in my abdomen, continued with a moon time that arrived a wee bit late, allowed me to pass through the day yesterday with nausea and blessed me, and especially the Dude, with severe moon swings.

I cried pathetically on three separate occasions. Something was amiss, that I know. Inside my head I was going, "WTF? What is wrong with me?" But on the outside I could not stop weeping.

So a call to Telehealth the night it began was in order, first off, and a nurse tells me I need to go to an urgent care centre in 24 hours. I wait 48. I have this paranoia that as soon as I get to the clinic, my symptoms will pass and I'll look like a faker who's wasting public resources and doctors' time.

So I get there at 3:45 today. They take my blood pressure, blood, urine, all that exciting stuff. They really seem to think I might be pregnant. Because my moon time is different this round, they think it might be a pregnancy symptom. So that's pretty much all I can think about for the next two hours. Turns out I'm not. Excellent.

I also must submit to two pelvic exams while I'm there. And this is why being a woman is ass. I don't care how medically necessary it is. I don't even care how many vaginas a doctor has seen. I don't give one sweet fiddler's fart how impersonal it's supposed to be. All that is irrelevant in the face of a strange man I don't know getting up close and personal with my box. Another woman in the room was all well and good, but it's just another witness to my discomfort and cringing.

They both praised me the way you encourage a two-year-old learning to potty and I got it over with. The doctor was able to determine that I was uncomfortable in my lower abdomen when his fingers were manhandling my special area, and that this warrants an ultrasound on Monday to check my ovaries. I don't know how that is not supposed to be uncomfortable, and what sort of test is that? Obviously it's going to feel bad. He wanted to know which pressure point was worse and I wasn't sure if it was the first shock of what he was doing or the second shock that he wasn't done.

Thinking on it, the only thing I'm happy about is that I'm a Canadian and I didn't have to pay for that experience. No, sir, here in Canada medical men will feel you up for free.

I'm not looking forward to Monday. It's to be a vaginal ultrasound. May God have mercy on my soul, and my junk.

The end.