journey through an ultrasound

My 20-week ultrasound was last week. I had made my appointment for 4:45 PM on Wednesday, September 16. I even double-checked the date, since the lady on the phone had referred to the day as "this Wednesday."

When Jeff and I arrived - after Jeff left work early, I dropped off the boys at a friend's house, and we met at the hospital - we were told that my appointment was for October 7 at 4:45 PM.

This preggo was not a happy camper. My bladder was full nearly to bursting, and I felt that I had dealt with a dozen hurdles to get where I was standing in that moment. I stood, trying to decide whether to find out whose heads ought to roll, or to burst into tears then and there.

What woman gets confused about which day her ultrasound is scheduled?

After about 15 very uncomfortable minutes, with Jeff as my able advocate, the hospital agrees to go ahead with my appointment. The very nice ultrasound tech gets started, and almost immediately lets out a "Lordy! Look at your bladder! We'll get you to the bathroom in just a minute, honey..." She is true to her word, and after that point it was a very pleasant time. We saw the little heart thumping away, the toes on those sweet feet. Baby was trying to suck the thumb. It was such a precious time.

Then at the end, we learned that she could give us no photos. Something about not knowing how to print them off...if I called next week someone may be able to help me, though.

This morning, I called. The gal on the phone and I had a difficult time communicating, but the long and short of it was that her name was Jessica, and she could help me out. She said to stop by the front desk when I got there.

So a while later, we enter the building. I walk up to the front desk of the hospital, three children in tow. "Hi, I called earlier about getting some photos of an ultrasound I had last week? I spoke to Jessica?" After a few questions ("Did you call ahead of time?"), the receptionist sends me down the hall to "a lady in a blue jacket named Wendy." We traipse down to see Wendy.

"Hi, are you Wendy? They said you could help me." I proceed to give my standard greeting. "I called earlier about getting some photos of an ultrasound I had last week? I spoke to Jessica...." Wendy takes my name and goes back to talk with the powers that be.

After five minutes she returns. "Evidently no one called it in. They don't have it..."

So I say, "No, I don't need an ultrasound. I just was hoping to get photos of the one I had last week." Wendy is an older lady. Maybe she misunderstood? People often say I speak softly.

She is firm that she gets it. "I understand that you don't need an ultrasound. But no one called about it. What's your doctor's name?"

I answer: "My midwife is Sonya _____."

"Okay, because it'd need to be sent to her..."

"No, I don't need the report, just the photos."

"You don't need the report?"

"No, just the photos. And I called this morning. I spoke with Jessica."

"You called this morning?"

"Yes."

She turns around, "Okay, I'll go see what I can find out..." and goes back down the hallway.

We wait and wait. The lobby is nearly empty. Kyle brings me numerous fliers and publications, ensuring that I have at least three copies of each one. He also seems to believe that I need three different issues of Guideposts magazine in my hand. Benjamin clambers on the chairs. Owen attempts to turn off all the lamps within his reach.

After a good five minutes (maybe more, but I'm striving for accuracy here), Wendy comes back.
"Jessica left it at the front desk for you."

I stand up, smiling. "Okay, great! Thanks for your time."

As I'm gathering my boys, Wendy heads toward the front desk and stands there chatting with some people there. My entourage and I approach the front desk again. The receptionist from before looks up. "Yes?"

I say, "Hi, evidently they left the ultrasound photos here at the front desk." I give my name.
Much searching ensues. There is confusion as to whether I was picking up a report or photographs. "She said there's something here for her... in an envelope...maybe it's this one. No, it just says Front Desk...."

Finally an efficient-looking woman at the end of the desk holds it up. She politely asks for my I.D., which I provide. Wendy looks at me and chuckles. "Well, that was quite a road to get what you needed, wasn't it?"

I just smile and think of Sept. 16 at 4:30 PM.......

Remind me not to give birth to my baby in that hospital.