Ultrasound Today and What's Up Next Week

I was meant to be having my ultrasound yesterday, but a migraine made me throw up all my water forty-five minutes before my appointment.  (Side note: throwing up only water is a very bizarre experience.)  I managed to nab a cancellation spot today, which was very fortunate considering that clinic was booking into the end of August already.  I really wanted to get the thing over with before I went camping--one less thing to worry about. 

Thankfully the migraine had all but departed by this morning and I could hold and process the water okay.  I think I’m starting to get the hang of how much water I personally need to drink, because this was probably the most comfortable ultrasound yet.  It probably helped tremendously that the technician was super-fast.  Almost before I knew it, I was done. Now I just have to wait until my OBGYN comes back from holidays to hear the results, but I’m not worried.

My reward for “being good” at my ultrasound (i.e., "going, as if I had any other choice") was taking a little detour and picking up my favorite ingredients for croissant sandwiches--namely, croissants.  It’s totally irrelevant to this blog, really, but I’m trying to get a bit more personal so you guys can get to know me as a person.  So now you know that I love croissants, and that I will use any excuse to spoil myself.

Ultrasounds really aren’t so big a deal, but they always make me emotional.  I really, really hate leaving the house with a full bladder (you guys know my worst recurring nightmare involves having to pee and finding no suitable place to do it), and having my lady parts laid bare on a screen is a very vulnerable feeling.  Couple that with helplessly puking my guts out less than 48 hours ago (something else I am a huge wimp about is vomiting) and I feel all stretched thin and fragile, like tissue paper.

What’s weirder, though, is I feel most vividly happy when I feel wrung-out like that.  I get happy about all the simple things, like sunshine, puppy kisses, and croissants.   I’m strangely fearless, as though throwing up and having an ultrasound were the worst possible things that could happen to me and there’s nothing else to be scared of.  I go out in public without make-up, I ask for help from strangers even though I find it scary, I sing to the radio.  What do you suppose that means?





So next week, ladies, I’ll be encamped by a beautiful lake with a lot of people who don't know me that well.  A lot of my energy has been directed towards gearing up for that and trying not to be too scared of it, and now that the ultrasound is over with, I feel more relaxed and free to look forward to the holiday.  Part of this “gearing up” has included forcing myself to buy some new bathing suits--ones that I simply like, not ones that I feel will hide most of my flaws.  I intend to really face my fears next week.

See you all soon, and take care of yourselves!