Binky had a good appointment. No gender reveal, unfortunately, as the baby did not cooperate. DAMN IT BINKY! We didn’t find out Madeline’s gender until 26 weeks gestation. If I have to wait until then my head will explode. Binky is measuring a week ahead, size-wise. Madeline always measured a week ahead as well, so Binky is following in her footsteps.

I had to drink 32 ounces of water before the appointment, something I’ve NEVER had to do before any of my other thousands of ultrasounds. I did not enjoy it, and I knew I wouldn’t. I purposely didn’t drink anything all morning so I’d be extra thirsty, but that only helped me with the first 16 ounces. The second sixteen….blech. I think I psyched myself out. I had to put my flip-cup chugging skills to good use. Then, about five minutes after I was done drinking water I got a POUNDING headache. Headache when I’m dehydrated, headache when I’m hydrated, I can’t win.

This was my first interaction with Dr. No-Vowels, Dr. Risky’s partner. Everyone that knows him told us “He’s a BRILLIANT man…but he’s a little gruff and grumpy.” I wasn’t too worried as my last OB wasn’t exactly Florence Nightingale. When Mike and I walked into the ultrasound room (which was NOT high-res, and I’m still a little annoyed about that), we introduced ourselves and Dr. N-V seemed nice enough. Then he did the entire exam without saying a word. Normally Dr. Risky talks through the entire ultrasound, telling us what she sees, so silence was disconcerting. At the end as he was cleaning me up he said, “How old are you?” So I told him thirty and he said nothing. So I started to get a little alarmed like, maybe somehow he saw something that the other tests had missed, but he was going to let Dr. Risky tell me. That WAS why he was performing the ultrasound – looking for abnormalities and anything Dr. Risky might have overlooked. “Did everything look OK?!?!” I asked as calmly as possible. I looked at the nurse, and she sort of rolled her eyes like, “this is how he is.” Dr. N-V said that everything looked good and that it was a very boring appointment, just the way he likes them. Still, after an exam where the doctor is SILENTLY LOOKING FOR ABNORMALITIES, the last thing you want to be asked is your age.

I’m back to Dr. Risky on Tuesday, and I’ll be sure to tell her all about Dr. No-Vowels asking me my age. She’ll probably laugh and say he was flirting or some such, because that’s how she rolls. Hopefully Tuesday will be another boring appointment, with a dash of baby exhibitionism thrown in the mix.