I don’t consider myself to be someone who thinks I’m entitled to many things just because I have Marfan (unless you count basic human rights, like equal opportunities and healthcare, in which case heck ya I feel entitled!). I mean, I don’t think that just because I have Marfan, I should be allowed first in line to get ice cream, or that everyone should only do aorta-friendly activities around me, or whatever.
But you know, every once in awhile something comes along where I think, “Yes, I DESERVE this.” Ultrasounds are one of those things.
When I was pregnant with the Menininho, I had major ultrasounds, with printouts to take home, at 7, 12, 19, and 34 weeks. Every other visit I had a quick ultrasound just to check the heartbeat and make sure he was still in there. Was it strictly necessary? Probably not. But you know what? For all the stress and indignities that I had to deal with as a high-risk pregnancy, it was a great reward.
I expected the same with this pregnancy. In fact, I even asked my new OB at our pre-pregnancy consultation about ultrasounds, and he promised I’d get them early and often.
You can imagine my surprise when I was told after I got pregnant that I wouldn’t even get a Doppler check of the heartbeat at 8 weeks, or see the OB himself. The nurse told me it’s not possible to see the baby at 8 weeks. Um…LIE. In fact, since my OB is only in the office once a week, my first ultrasound got scheduled at 10 weeks, 6 days because apparently you can’t see the baby at 9 weeks, 6 days, either, but you can at 10 weeks, 1 day. 24 HOURS MAKES A DIFFERENCE.
Are they going to be the kind of office that doesn’t let me go into labor at 38 weeks, 6 days because babies can only be born at 39 weeks or later?
You might ask why I care so much. Here’s why. Without an ultrasound, how can I REALLY be sure there’s a baby in there? I mean yes, I have a small collection of sticks that I peed on, which all produced positive results. And yes, I feel nauseous and tired all the time now and even though I’ve not gained any weight yet, I’ve already popped. At 7 weeks.
But you know who else had those same signs?
I rest my case.
So wish me luck this Friday as I try to convince some unsuspecting nurse that I really DO need an ultrasound this week! (And spare me the horror stories about babies turned into aliens by too many ultrasounds, please; my fragile pregnant brain can’t handle it.)