The whambo jambo

This morning I had my 10 weeker with J.T. my Trusty O.B. and he asked me if I'd like to have another ultrasound. You know, because I suffer from a common pregnancy complication called freaking out.

Of course I would never miss an opportunity to get violated by the whambo jambo so I hopped on the table. The ultrasound tech mentioned that little Pinkie (that's what Nick calls it) was a jumpy little thing as it was zig zagging around my uterus. I decided not to mention that it might have had something to do with the three Diet Cokes and can of chocolate frosting I had eaten for breakfast this morning.

As I was standing at the counter making my next appointment, I noticed a woman on the other side of the partition checking in for hers. She was wiping away tears and taking big shuddery breaths.

Ech - I knew that waiting room shudder.

I shimmied out the door and into the waiting room where she was sitting, hoping I could slip past her without her noticing me.

But she did. She looked right at me, then down at my ultrasound picture that I was holding like it was some delicate priceless artifact excavated straight from Jesus' tomb, then my big ole pregnant belly. At first she smiled but then she looked down, covered her eyes and burst into tears.

Shit - I had become public enemy #1.

Before Ellie I had two miscarriages and had sat in that same chair, with that same shuddery sigh, watching those loathsome bitches skip out of the ultrasound room with their little pictures in hand, wondering how many times I could stab them in the face before the police riddled me with bullets.

It seemed as if everyone in the world was effortlessly pregnant and it was always being shoved in my face. Seeing her burst into tears I knew exactly what she was thinking and I wanted to sit in her lap and tell her everything I had been through and that I DESERVED to be pregnant.

I also wanted to tell her that it would all work out for her, but I don't know if it will. Maybe her uterus is shaped like a one legged unicorn or something and she's just shit out of luck.

I felt guilty all the way to the elevators. But somewhere in the parking lot I reminded myself that my dues had been paid, and I had been sad for a long time.

Now it is time for happiness. So I pulled out the glossy pic of little Pinkie and planted a kiss on what I imagined were the lips.