I missed a phone call last night, and when I listened to the message, it was my new OB Dr. G. The message said he saw me on his calendar for next month, and he wanted to chat. He had called around 5:30 p.m., but I didn't see the message until closer to 6, and figured he would have left the office already and I'd call him in the morning.
He called back around 6:30 p.m.. He explained that this was his cell phone number, and he wanted me to have it. If I called his office, the receptionists and nurses probably wouldn't let me talk to him, but I could always call or text his cell phone and he promised he would get back to me. Um...this is NOT how my experience with any medical professionals from my clinic has ever gone! He was trying to make things EASY for me! I think this man is angel.
He went over basic questions, like why I ended up choosing him. I explained and once I gave him my maiden name, he put it together who I really am and became even more excited about having me as a patient.
Also, he wants me to come into his office as soon as possible to chat about things. We'd keep the exam appointment for Sept. 17, but that was too long of a wait for me to not do anything. He wants to go over what I should and should not be doing, as well as plans for the birth and just generally getting to know each other and figuring out the dynamics of our doctor-patient relationship. Whaa??? He respects my ideas and opinions? Is this normal?
He also wanted to schedule an ultrasound. It's elective, and totally up to me, but he encourages his patients to do it so they can closely pinpoint a due date, and see how things are progressing. He wants to do it next week, since I'll be around 7 weeks, and he said that would be plenty far along to determine a due date from the scan. And then he ever so delicately explained to me what a transvaginal ultrasound is. But he assured me it would be only me and a female, highly-trained technician alone in the dark room with the screen. She's the absolute best around and makes all of her patients feel comfortable, even though the idea of an internal ultrasound is a little uncomfortable and unpleasant. (I'm sure he was remembering me as an awkward, virgin teenager who definitely would have had some objections to being probed.) I'll admit, if I hadn't been reading infertility blogs, the idea of sticking a condom on a penis-shaped camera and shoving it inside of me would have me raising my eyebrows. But since many of you have had these exams multiple times per cycle, I can probably handle it. And dammit, I wanna see if there's actually a baby (or you know, shadowy peanut) growing inside of me. Bring on the dildo cam!
So I'm seeing Dr. G. tomorrow, and then he'll schedule the ultrasound next week. It's like I'm really pregnant! And I'm also terrified of having this ultrasound done and there being nothing there. Or something, but it's not alive. I can't decide if it's better or worse that I'm actually going to get things confirmed. If I waited until Sept. 17, I could at least continue pretending I'm pregnant for another few weeks. Instead, I could find out next week that it's all over.
I'm trying not to be pessimistic about this, I promise. I'm trying to accept consistent nausea as a good sign. I'm trying to appreciate the fact I can't even open my fridge because the smell of some homemade cucumber salsa (yep, just gagged thinking about it) Bobby brought home from someone at work makes my stomach turn inside out. That I'm going to bed at 8:30 every night and can still barely keep my eyes open at work. I'm not bleeding, I don't even need a bra my boobs are so darn perky, and if I stop sipping Ginger Ale at 6 minute intervals, I'm going to throw up all over my desk.
Holy balls, you guys, I think I'm pregnant.