Everything looked beautiful, including the little heart beating.
Awe inspiring, amazing . . . I'm already wrapped around his/her itty bitty finger.
(So, with that being said, may I complain a little about my experience at the Downstairs Doc???)
An obnoxiously cute nurse took me to an exam room and told me to undress from the waist down. Thinking I heard her incorrectly, I replied, "Oh, I'm here for an ultrasound. I don't have to take off my clothes." She replied, "Umm, yes you do." (Insert me fighting the urge to strangle that skinny nurse here.) I walked back into the exam room and rolled my eyes at John. "That nurse doesn't know what she is talking about."
Feeling strangely compliant, I removed my clothing from the waist down as she instructed and spent the remaining time before the doctor came in trying to wrap that tiny piece of paper blanket all the way around me . . . impossible . . . and trying to figure out why the heck I had to take off half my clothes off for an ultrasound (while complaining to John that I didn't shave my legs, mentally prepare, etc.) Honestly, what kind of pervert is this doctor????????
Downstairs Doc walked in and said, "So, do you have any questions." I replied, "Uhhh, yeah. Why are half my clothes off?"
I found out that I was having a much different kind of ultrasound than the one I had with Megan. (I'll spare you the details.) I wasn't paying much attention anyway since I was sitting there thinking . . . Uhhh, what did he just say? I'm finding it difficult to concentrate. One of us is half naked. How unfair. How distracting, humiliating, embarrassing.
Downstairs Doc apologized for not preparing me. I apologized for nearly choking his nurse to death.
Then we left with a lovely souvenir photo of our beloved unborn to plaster all over the internet.