Mmmkay so, my theorizing and brow-furrowing and hand-wringing weren’t really getting us anywhere so I had to put it to a pro, yo.
My mom met me uptown to see a new OB/GYN (the last guy I went to was well, a guy, and in a big rush. Not my style) This place wasn’t much better. The office staff were a bunch of miserables, the doctor herself was about 12, rushed me through my medical history, and as my mom noted, kept wiping her nose on her sleeve.
Anyhoo, I wasn’t there to give hygeine tips – I was there to see if my oven is taking care of my bun! The doctor lubed up the ultrasound wand then put a glove over it so that it’s limp form was giving me the finger (nice). Well that middle finger lived up to its legend and gave me a view of what I’m told is my uterus but was really more like a graphite blob shaped like Texas. But while there appears to be some thickening between Amarillo and Corpus Christi- this isn’t conclusive evidence that my zygote is ready to hunker down for the 9 month party-of-life.
After the semi-public donging, I was sent down the hall to a nice nurse who took about half of my blood and they should be calling me with those HCG levels tomorrow morning. Eeeeek!!
My mom says, “I have to admit – I’m getting a little excited.”
“You haven’t told anyone yet right?”
“I can’t! Those jamokes haven’t called me back yet!”
…and so we wait.