We survived yesterday's ultrasound appointment.
Honestly, it wasn't even close to half as horrible as The Appointment. I knew what to expect. I was not holding out any hope that the tech had made a mistake. That seemed too masochistic, and I've felt enough pain this week to last me a lifetime.
Thankfully, one of my fears was alleviated as soon as I checked in. I asked the sweet receptionist (who has been going back and forth with me each week trying to get my paperwork from each ultrasound appointment to my clinic in NYC) if the ultrasound tech will know what's going on with us, because I don't want them to feel like they are giving me the bad news for the first time. She said that it's actually the same girl from Monday's awful appointment, so she is familiar with our situation.
So, a small crisis averted there.
Buster and I head back to the room, holding hands, looking somber. I get up on the table while Buster positions himself on the loveseat, as close to me as he can. I get my clothing adjusted, and we resume holding hands.
The ultrasound tech didn't say anything during the ultrasound. And that was fine with me. I didn't say anything, either. But I did watch the screen. It was my last chance to see my baby. To see the only baby I've ever been pregnant with. The baby who would have been so spoiled by both sets of grandparents, because he or she would have been the first grandchild.
The baby we have waited close to five years for.
Buster looked at the screen, too. A couple times I had fits of tears, but I tried my best to keep my composure so the tech could do her job.
When she was done, she left the room to get my doctor.
I looked over at Buster, and his eyes had a sheen to them. I just stared at him, and the only thing I could muster enough energy to say was,
"Our poor little baby."
He took my hand with both hands and said he loved me, and just continued to look at me.
Most of the time his blue eyes gave me strength, but there was a fleeting thought about if the baby would have had his blue eyes that set me to tears again.
The ultrasound tech came back in and said that my doctor was available, and we needed to go down the hall to meet with him. When he entered, he looked very sad for us. He knew about the clinical trial, as I had gone to him for all of my pre-IVF testing. He also knew about our infertility struggle.
He explained my options, which I already knew. I told him we would move forward with the D&C, and he said that's the route most women choose. Then he asked my blood type, and I told him it was O-. He then informed me that I needed a Rhogam shot before I left.
I asked my doctor if they could run the chromosome tests on the baby. He said he thinks it's too small at 9 weeks to be able to do so. Now, I know from what I've read online, women have had this testing done at this stage. But my doctor says that maybe at a research lab or some other facility, but he doesn't think the pathologists here will be able to. But he's going to ask them, just in case.
We then walked down the hall to surgery scheduling, and scheduled my D&C for 2:00 p.m. today. I didn't think they would be able to get me in so quickly, but I'm thankful they did.
Before leaving, I met with a different nurse for the Rhogam shot. We were chatting as I unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down a bit so she could get to my lower back/upper butt area. While I was mid-sentence, she practically took a running start and jabbed me so fast and hard with the syringe it made my whole right cheek tense up and remain that way. WTF. There's something to be said about getting it over with, but that was just ridiculous. My ass is really sore today.
So now I'm just killing time before we need to leave for the hospital. I'm not allowed to eat or drink anything today, so I'm fully anticipating my lack-of-coffee headache to hit me right around the time we need to be at the hospital.