I have now officially reached a big preggo milestone: weekly visits!
Depending on how early the little at-home kit tells you you’re pregnant, you have to wait forever before actually getting to go confirm things at the doctor. From then on you go from monthly visits… to every 2-3 weeks… to every 2 weeks… and then, when the Promised Land is within site… you get your tail there every single week so they can check your “progress.” And where other appointments up to this point are largely non-invasive (peeing in a cup is about as involved as it gets… otherwise we’re talking mostly measuring your tummy with a measuring tape, listening to the heartbeat etc.), these weekly visits are right about where you start to lose your inhibitions… because you really have no other choice. Do I have to spell it out for you, people? Ok, we’re talking stirrups here.
If you’re a health-conscious adult woman, you’re no stranger to stirrups. They are, after-all, a normal part of any yearly Gyno exam. But it’s usually just you, the doc, and a nurse in the room when you’re put into that oh-so-vulnerable (and, let’s be honest… wildly unattractive) position. Not so much when you get pregnant. And not so much when you have an involved husband who comes with you to every visit (awwww). Even for the most sensitive, involved, “into it” husband around though… there’s only so much of this he can take with a straight face.
The stirrup situation snuck up on me and Jake the first time. And we paid the price…
We were in the room chatting away with the nurses during our last visit… me sitting in my little paper gown on the table, Jake seated on the chair in the corner down by my feet… when she quickly and nonchalantly gave me the, “ok well scoot on down and let’s see what kind of progress you’re making.”
Ok, I thought. Clearly, as could be noted by the fact that we were in a pregnancy visit at the moment, nothing here was altogether new territory to my baby daddy. It was, however a new, shall we say, angle. But, not sure what the norm was in these situations and not wanting to come across as a self-conscious prude… I went with it. About 5 seconds in though I couldn’t take it anymore. In-between awkward banter about if we think it’s a boy or a girl (not awkward banter in-and-of itself… but anything feels a little strange to talk about with 8 people’s faces in your crotch) I finally craned my neck around my hoisted knees to try and give Jake a “So, this is kinda weird” look… but there was no eye contact to be made with that boy. I swear he was staring at that ceiling like the latest “Sports Guy” article was posted up there. From there he went to the far wall… the floor… his knuckles… and then I gave up.
About 2 minutes later, I guess curiosity got the best of him.
I heard some shifting in his chair, a little throat-clearing and then, “Uh… wow Page… I’ve got the best view in the house.”
Both nurses, Jake, and I all immediately erupted into uncontrollable fits of laughter. It only got worse when the nurse assistant responded to Jake’s initial comment by randomly yelling out, “Merry Christmas!” in Jake’s general direction, and then completely losing it with the rest of us.
The nurse checking my “progress” collapsed kind of onto my knees with giggles, which in and of itself would have been slightly awkward had I been conscious enough to be aware of what was going on. As it was I was laughing so hard I think I had cut the oxygen off to my brain.
As soon as she could get it together enough, she yanked a curtain in front of Jake’s chair to block his view and started giving us both a hard time for not speaking up before. Apparently most dads just assume they should be up at the shoulders when there are stirrups in the picture, so that’s where they head without being prompted. Not my little voyeur. She said she had figured if we didn’t care then who was she to suggest a change in location. And since we had kind of thought the same thing… well, you know the rest.
Actually, you don’t.
The rest is that I laughed so hard and it came upon me so fast… that I actually peed on the exam table. And yes, I realize I’m admitting this to the entire blogosphere right now. But there you have it. What do you want from me people?! Being in stirrups with a full-bladder and a hilarious husband do not make for a good combination in the world of bladder-control.
The irony is that before anyone in my family had ever met Jake, he was known to them as “the peeing and laughing boy” because I would always tell him how this new guy I was dating was so funny, “he makes me pee in my pants.” At that point it was just a figure of speech. Little did I know…
I like to think, though, that that little episode has been our best preparation yet for the process of actually giving birth. Because from what I’ve heard, a crotch-shot and a little pee-piddle is nuthin compared to what I’m in for in terms of embarrassment when the big day arrives. It has me wondering how women do this who don’t have hubbys with good senses of humor. Nurses too, for that matter.
We were all literally in tears from laughing, and now we can’t walk into the Doctor’s office without somebody asking Jake if he’s back for another show. Did I mention I love my Doctor’s office?
And speaking of shows, at one day shy of 38 weeks (and a few inches away from being able to touch anything near my toes) I’m ready to get this one on the road. Giddyup little Flinglet… mama’s ready to put those stirrups to good use!
