OT Story - Two Happy Ultrasounds

I love this story. Thank you for sharing, Kathy.
Sarajane

Sarajane's Polymer Clay Gallery
http://www.polyclay.com

BTW, I've long since realized that if we had had a boy instead
of Amanda, I'd be wondering what on Earth I had been thinking - bah!
who would need a daughter when we had such a great son.


Lovely story, except the part about being in labor 4 days! That sounded a
little rough!

Your stories always make me want to tell one of my own, except I don't want to
seem like I'm competing in any way.

So I'll just give a little tease - 5 weeks from now I'll have new nephew -
Charlie.


Cheri
(Bubbee to Emily and Nathan)

It's my life
And it's now or never
I ain't gonna live forever
I just want to live while I'm alive - Bon Jovi

My brother and his wife named their little girl Amanda. It's a beautiful
name.

They also went through a lot to have her. I had it so easy, and we've got a
family of four children. She may be the only one they get, after 2
surgeries and fertility drugs to have her. They were expecting last year,
and miscarried. It was such a blessing that this year she was born, even if
she was a preemie. She's got one strong set of lungs!

"Kathy N-V" wrote in message
. giganews.com...
After I had the nasty ultrasound I had last week, I promised I'd
share the story of the two joyous ultrasounds I'd had before. Both
of thesse rememberances make me very happy, and I hope they make you
smile as well.

April 18, 1989 - We had only found out that we were expecting a baby
a few weeks before and we were overjoyed. With my health problems,
the docs were not sure that we could ever have children of our own,
and had told us not to get our hopes up, and that if the pregnancy
didn't work out, we couldn't try again because of the risk of losing
me. Imagine their (and our) surprise when I showed up at the
doctor's office three weeks later, and whoo-hoo! We had a chance at
getting the miracle we wanted so badly.

I started having problems, and Bob rushed me to the hospital. The ER
folks said that I was having a miscarriage, but not to fear, because
"you're young, you can always try again." Bob and I never did tell
them that there was no "try again," if this baby didn't make it, that
was our only chance. The docs gave me some stupid pills to cope with
my grief, and scheduled an ultrasound the next day to see if they
needed to do a D & C.

April 19 - we go to the ultrasound center in Boston, and I get a
gallon of water to drink. Between my constant morning sickness and
my terrible pain at having lost our baby, I barely managed to choke
half of it down. The whole room was full of fat, happy, pregnant
women, and I felt like they were taunting me for my failure. (Of
course, I know that isn't true, but I was grieving my baby, the only
one we could ever have)

Finally, it was my turn. The tech was kind, held my hand, and told
me that she would go as quickly as possible, and hopefully, I
wouldn't need surgery. I got covered with blue goo, and she began to
run the probe across my stomach. I was crying, Bob was crying, and
the tech was nearly as sad as we were.

Suddenly we heard a sound - "lub-dup, lub-dup, lub-dup." You don't
need to be a genius to realize that was a heartbeat. All three of us
gasped, and the tech pressed a doorbell on the wall to call a doctor.
She moved the probe around, and we saw it: a little polywog, with a
strong, beating heart. Looking even closer, we could make out a head
and arms, and the little buds that would someday become fingers. (Of
course, we didn't know that the baby was a girl - just being alive
was more than good enough for us!)

Bob and I held each other, sobbing, because we had been given a
miracle. Unable to take our eyes off the screen, I suddenly realized
the significance of the date: Bob's birthday. I wished him a happy
birthday, and he cried, "I just got the best present I'll ever have."

More staring at our baby revealed something odd: this kid was
swimming! The backstroke, with one arm resting comfortably behind
her head. The tech laughed and said that was a new one to her, and
that we were going to be in for a bumpy ride.

Like we cared. We were going to have the child we wanted so badly.

-------------------------------

December 6, 1989: I'm overdue, big as Buddah, and very, very cranky.
I'd been having contractions for weeks, couldn't sleep, and was
_still_ morning sick. Grump, grump, grump.

The high risk obstetrician was starting to get worried. The baby was
late, I had blimped out enormously in a matter of days, and she was
very concerned that the baby was trying to be born, but was too big
to get through the pelvis. (Oh, great.) We get scheduled for
another ultrasound, this one at the hospital.

This time there's no water to drink, and no technician. No waiting,
either. It's my doctor, a radiologist, and a doc from the neonatal
ICU. (They were not expecting the baby to be healthy) I get the goo
on my stretched out stomach, and they remove the band-aid I had over
my belly button, which had gone from an "innie" to an "outie" in
recent weeks. The screen was turned away from us, and the docs
weren't saying anything.

I get scanned again and again. The docs us a measuring tape to
measure my stomach, and the computer to see the size of the baby.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, my OB turned to me and smiled.
I started breathing again, and was overjoyed to hear her next words.
"The baby looks to be in good health. The problems are all you, not
the baby, and once it's out of there, the baby should be just fine."

"IT?" I jumped on her. "You mean that you can't tell, even now?"

She laughed. "Of course I can tell, but most people want to be
surprised. So tell me what do you want?"

Bob and I immediately answered, "We'll be delighted with whatever we
get, but we've always wanted a girl."

"Well, that's exactly what you have! I can see all the little girl
parts, and everything looks great."

We bawl again, hugging each other. The doc tells us that we have to
go back to the labor and delivery part of the hospital that evening,
and that we'd have our baby by this time tomorrow. (She was dead
wrong. I was officially in labor for almost four days)

We left the ultrasound facility in a daze. We kept holding hands and
marveling that we were getting the daughter we wanted so badly.
Suddenly Bob stopped, and his face changed to a ferocious expression
that kind of unnerved me. (I've since gotten accustomed to it)

"Hon, you know what that means? We have to pay for a wedding. A
great big Italian wedding." said Bob, as if someone was asking for a
deposit that moment.

I laughed. The baby hadn't even drawn breath, and here he is,
worrying about paying for weddings. Bob continued to rant to my
endless amusement. "If any boy comes to our house in a van, he dies
right there and then. And I need a gun. I'll clean it any time a
boy comes to pick up the baby for a date. And none of that beeping
the horn for her to come out! I'm kill him."

Amanda Rose made her appearance four days later, healthy and
practically tap dancing, although her mother wasn't doing too well
for while. Bob survived, too, although he's gotten a few grey hairs
since then. But it's almost fifteen years later, and he hasn't yet
gotten a gun, no one has come to our home in a van, and I'm still not
worried about paying for a wedding.

---------------

Hope you've enjoyed these stories as much as I enjoyed recalling
them. BTW, I've long since realized that if we had had a boy instead
of Amanda, I'd be wondering what on Earth I had been thinking - bah!
who would need a daughter when we had such a great son.

Kathy N-V

Your story is bringing tears to my eyes. (Or could it be the fact that my
period is due next week??)

--
JoAnn Paules
MVP Microsoft [Publisher]



"Kathy N-V" wrote in message
. giganews.com...
After I had the nasty ultrasound I had last week, I promised I'd
share the story of the two joyous ultrasounds I'd had before. Both
of thesse rememberances make me very happy, and I hope they make you
smile as well.

April 18, 1989 - We had only found out that we were expecting a baby
a few weeks before and we were overjoyed. With my health problems,
the docs were not sure that we could ever have children of our own,
and had told us not to get our hopes up, and that if the pregnancy
didn't work out, we couldn't try again because of the risk of losing
me. Imagine their (and our) surprise when I showed up at the
doctor's office three weeks later, and whoo-hoo! We had a chance at
getting the miracle we wanted so badly.

I started having problems, and Bob rushed me to the hospital. The ER
folks said that I was having a miscarriage, but not to fear, because
"you're young, you can always try again." Bob and I never did tell
them that there was no "try again," if this baby didn't make it, that
was our only chance. The docs gave me some stupid pills to cope with
my grief, and scheduled an ultrasound the next day to see if they
needed to do a D & C.

April 19 - we go to the ultrasound center in Boston, and I get a
gallon of water to drink. Between my constant morning sickness and
my terrible pain at having lost our baby, I barely managed to choke
half of it down. The whole room was full of fat, happy, pregnant
women, and I felt like they were taunting me for my failure. (Of
course, I know that isn't true, but I was grieving my baby, the only
one we could ever have)

Finally, it was my turn. The tech was kind, held my hand, and told
me that she would go as quickly as possible, and hopefully, I
wouldn't need surgery. I got covered with blue goo, and she began to
run the probe across my stomach. I was crying, Bob was crying, and
the tech was nearly as sad as we were.

Suddenly we heard a sound - "lub-dup, lub-dup, lub-dup." You don't
need to be a genius to realize that was a heartbeat. All three of us
gasped, and the tech pressed a doorbell on the wall to call a doctor.
She moved the probe around, and we saw it: a little polywog, with a
strong, beating heart. Looking even closer, we could make out a head
and arms, and the little buds that would someday become fingers. (Of
course, we didn't know that the baby was a girl - just being alive
was more than good enough for us!)

Bob and I held each other, sobbing, because we had been given a
miracle. Unable to take our eyes off the screen, I suddenly realized
the significance of the date: Bob's birthday. I wished him a happy
birthday, and he cried, "I just got the best present I'll ever have."

More staring at our baby revealed something odd: this kid was
swimming! The backstroke, with one arm resting comfortably behind
her head. The tech laughed and said that was a new one to her, and
that we were going to be in for a bumpy ride.

Like we cared. We were going to have the child we wanted so badly.

-------------------------------

December 6, 1989: I'm overdue, big as Buddah, and very, very cranky.
I'd been having contractions for weeks, couldn't sleep, and was
_still_ morning sick. Grump, grump, grump.

The high risk obstetrician was starting to get worried. The baby was
late, I had blimped out enormously in a matter of days, and she was
very concerned that the baby was trying to be born, but was too big
to get through the pelvis. (Oh, great.) We get scheduled for
another ultrasound, this one at the hospital.

This time there's no water to drink, and no technician. No waiting,
either. It's my doctor, a radiologist, and a doc from the neonatal
ICU. (They were not expecting the baby to be healthy) I get the goo
on my stretched out stomach, and they remove the band-aid I had over
my belly button, which had gone from an "innie" to an "outie" in
recent weeks. The screen was turned away from us, and the docs
weren't saying anything.

I get scanned again and again. The docs us a measuring tape to
measure my stomach, and the computer to see the size of the baby.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, my OB turned to me and smiled.
I started breathing again, and was overjoyed to hear her next words.
"The baby looks to be in good health. The problems are all you, not
the baby, and once it's out of there, the baby should be just fine."

"IT?" I jumped on her. "You mean that you can't tell, even now?"

She laughed. "Of course I can tell, but most people want to be
surprised. So tell me what do you want?"

Bob and I immediately answered, "We'll be delighted with whatever we
get, but we've always wanted a girl."

"Well, that's exactly what you have! I can see all the little girl
parts, and everything looks great."

We bawl again, hugging each other. The doc tells us that we have to
go back to the labor and delivery part of the hospital that evening,
and that we'd have our baby by this time tomorrow. (She was dead
wrong. I was officially in labor for almost four days)

We left the ultrasound facility in a daze. We kept holding hands and
marveling that we were getting the daughter we wanted so badly.
Suddenly Bob stopped, and his face changed to a ferocious expression
that kind of unnerved me. (I've since gotten accustomed to it)

"Hon, you know what that means? We have to pay for a wedding. A
great big Italian wedding." said Bob, as if someone was asking for a
deposit that moment.

I laughed. The baby hadn't even drawn breath, and here he is,
worrying about paying for weddings. Bob continued to rant to my
endless amusement. "If any boy comes to our house in a van, he dies
right there and then. And I need a gun. I'll clean it any time a
boy comes to pick up the baby for a date. And none of that beeping
the horn for her to come out! I'm kill him."

Amanda Rose made her appearance four days later, healthy and
practically tap dancing, although her mother wasn't doing too well
for while. Bob survived, too, although he's gotten a few grey hairs
since then. But it's almost fifteen years later, and he hasn't yet
gotten a gun, no one has come to our home in a van, and I'm still not
worried about paying for a wedding.

---------------

Hope you've enjoyed these stories as much as I enjoyed recalling
them. BTW, I've long since realized that if we had had a boy instead
of Amanda, I'd be wondering what on Earth I had been thinking - bah!
who would need a daughter when we had such a great son.

Kathy N-V



---
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I needed the stories today. Thanks Kathy and I'm so glad Amanda is here.

--
Starlia Klopman
www.klopmanstudios.com


"Kathy N-V" wrote in message
. giganews.com...
After I had the nasty ultrasound I had last week, I promised I'd
share the story of the two joyous ultrasounds I'd had before. Both
of thesse rememberances make me very happy, and I hope they make you
smile as well.

April 18, 1989 - We had only found out that we were expecting a baby
a few weeks before and we were overjoyed. With my health problems,
the docs were not sure that we could ever have children of our own,
and had told us not to get our hopes up, and that if the pregnancy
didn't work out, we couldn't try again because of the risk of losing
me. Imagine their (and our) surprise when I showed up at the
doctor's office three weeks later, and whoo-hoo! We had a chance at
getting the miracle we wanted so badly.

I started having problems, and Bob rushed me to the hospital. The ER
folks said that I was having a miscarriage, but not to fear, because
"you're young, you can always try again." Bob and I never did tell
them that there was no "try again," if this baby didn't make it, that
was our only chance. The docs gave me some stupid pills to cope with
my grief, and scheduled an ultrasound the next day to see if they
needed to do a D & C.

April 19 - we go to the ultrasound center in Boston, and I get a
gallon of water to drink. Between my constant morning sickness and
my terrible pain at having lost our baby, I barely managed to choke
half of it down. The whole room was full of fat, happy, pregnant
women, and I felt like they were taunting me for my failure. (Of
course, I know that isn't true, but I was grieving my baby, the only
one we could ever have)

Finally, it was my turn. The tech was kind, held my hand, and told
me that she would go as quickly as possible, and hopefully, I
wouldn't need surgery. I got covered with blue goo, and she began to
run the probe across my stomach. I was crying, Bob was crying, and
the tech was nearly as sad as we were.

Suddenly we heard a sound - "lub-dup, lub-dup, lub-dup." You don't
need to be a genius to realize that was a heartbeat. All three of us
gasped, and the tech pressed a doorbell on the wall to call a doctor.
She moved the probe around, and we saw it: a little polywog, with a
strong, beating heart. Looking even closer, we could make out a head
and arms, and the little buds that would someday become fingers. (Of
course, we didn't know that the baby was a girl - just being alive
was more than good enough for us!)

Bob and I held each other, sobbing, because we had been given a
miracle. Unable to take our eyes off the screen, I suddenly realized
the significance of the date: Bob's birthday. I wished him a happy
birthday, and he cried, "I just got the best present I'll ever have."

More staring at our baby revealed something odd: this kid was
swimming! The backstroke, with one arm resting comfortably behind
her head. The tech laughed and said that was a new one to her, and
that we were going to be in for a bumpy ride.

Like we cared. We were going to have the child we wanted so badly.

-------------------------------

December 6, 1989: I'm overdue, big as Buddah, and very, very cranky.
I'd been having contractions for weeks, couldn't sleep, and was
_still_ morning sick. Grump, grump, grump.

The high risk obstetrician was starting to get worried. The baby was
late, I had blimped out enormously in a matter of days, and she was
very concerned that the baby was trying to be born, but was too big
to get through the pelvis. (Oh, great.) We get scheduled for
another ultrasound, this one at the hospital.

This time there's no water to drink, and no technician. No waiting,
either. It's my doctor, a radiologist, and a doc from the neonatal
ICU. (They were not expecting the baby to be healthy) I get the goo
on my stretched out stomach, and they remove the band-aid I had over
my belly button, which had gone from an "innie" to an "outie" in
recent weeks. The screen was turned away from us, and the docs
weren't saying anything.

I get scanned again and again. The docs us a measuring tape to
measure my stomach, and the computer to see the size of the baby.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, my OB turned to me and smiled.
I started breathing again, and was overjoyed to hear her next words.
"The baby looks to be in good health. The problems are all you, not
the baby, and once it's out of there, the baby should be just fine."

"IT?" I jumped on her. "You mean that you can't tell, even now?"

She laughed. "Of course I can tell, but most people want to be
surprised. So tell me what do you want?"

Bob and I immediately answered, "We'll be delighted with whatever we
get, but we've always wanted a girl."

"Well, that's exactly what you have! I can see all the little girl
parts, and everything looks great."

We bawl again, hugging each other. The doc tells us that we have to
go back to the labor and delivery part of the hospital that evening,
and that we'd have our baby by this time tomorrow. (She was dead
wrong. I was officially in labor for almost four days)

We left the ultrasound facility in a daze. We kept holding hands and
marveling that we were getting the daughter we wanted so badly.
Suddenly Bob stopped, and his face changed to a ferocious expression
that kind of unnerved me. (I've since gotten accustomed to it)

"Hon, you know what that means? We have to pay for a wedding. A
great big Italian wedding." said Bob, as if someone was asking for a
deposit that moment.

I laughed. The baby hadn't even drawn breath, and here he is,
worrying about paying for weddings. Bob continued to rant to my
endless amusement. "If any boy comes to our house in a van, he dies
right there and then. And I need a gun. I'll clean it any time a
boy comes to pick up the baby for a date. And none of that beeping
the horn for her to come out! I'm kill him."

Amanda Rose made her appearance four days later, healthy and
practically tap dancing, although her mother wasn't doing too well
for while. Bob survived, too, although he's gotten a few grey hairs
since then. But it's almost fifteen years later, and he hasn't yet
gotten a gun, no one has come to our home in a van, and I'm still not
worried about paying for a wedding.

---------------

Hope you've enjoyed these stories as much as I enjoyed recalling
them. BTW, I've long since realized that if we had had a boy instead
of Amanda, I'd be wondering what on Earth I had been thinking - bah!
who would need a daughter when we had such a great son.

Kathy N-V

Kathy - those are great ultrasound stories... my best friend went with her
daughter to an ultrasound -- said she cried her eyes out when she saw that
little thing....

"If any boy comes to our house in a van, he dies right there and then. And I
need a gun. I'll clean it any time a boy comes to pick up the baby for a date.
And none of that beeping the horn for her to come out! I'm kill him.

Hmmm I'm assuming Bob has the official version of "Ten Rules for Dating my
Daughter"?????

if not -they can frequently be found on the web.... oh here's a copy
http://snipurl.com/afru
I'm sure he will recogonize these...
ROTFL

Cheryl
DRAGON BEADS
Flameworked beads and glass
http://www.dragonbeads.com/

I love the rule that goes "if you come to pick up my daughter and
announce your presence by pulling up in front of the house and honking,
you will not be picking up my daughter. Not now, not ever."

I won't leave the house if a date does that to me. Either come to the
door, or we are not going anywhere. Ever.

-Kalera
http://www.beadwife.com
http://www.snipurl.com/kebay


Cheryl wrote:
Kathy - those are great ultrasound stories... my best friend went with her
daughter to an ultrasound -- said she cried her eyes out when she saw that
little thing....

"If any boy comes to our house in a van, he dies right there and then. And I
need a gun. I'll clean it any time a boy comes to pick up the baby for a date.
And none of that beeping the horn for her to come out! I'm kill him.

Hmmm I'm assuming Bob has the official version of "Ten Rules for Dating my
Daughter"?????

if not -they can frequently be found on the web.... oh here's a copy
http://snipurl.com/afru
I'm sure he will recogonize these...
ROTFL

Cheryl
DRAGON BEADS
Flameworked beads and glass
http://www.dragonbeads.com/

She is so going to change her mind when she is older and/or when she has a
daughter. I hated that 'you can't honk and run out the door rule.' I
thought it was so old fashioned. Now I know that if you really respect me
as a boy/man then you will give me the respect I deserve. Dan NEVER honked
or did anything out of the norm. He has huge respect for all ladies.

--
Starlia Klopman
www.klopmanstudios.com


"Kathy N-V" wrote in message
. giganews.com...
On Sat, 6 Nov 2004 22:09:43 -0500, Kalera Stratton wrote
(in message ):

I love the rule that goes "if you come to pick up my daughter and
announce your presence by pulling up in front of the house and honking,
you will not be picking up my daughter. Not now, not ever."

It cracks me up when Manda wails "Everyone knows about my Daddy, so
no one will ever ask me out. I'm never, ever going to have a date."

She also thinks that the "no honking" rule is unreasonable, and will
simply keep her from ever having a good time. When I pointed out
that I wouldn't even honk the horn when picking up one of her
girlfriends, she had to change the subject while she thinks of other
arguments.

My poor, neglected, social misfit of a daughter was very tired all
day today, because she went to a party, and danced all night. With
boys. Who apparently braved Bob's reputation to come within 100
yards of our daughter. Pointing this out rather takes the fun out of
the pity party that someone was throwing for herself.

Of course, she had another rant in the wings: we picked her up at
ten p.m. The party was for two sisters who share a birthday two
years apart. Some of the kids attending the party were high school
seniors or even older, and I know enough about these events to know
that things get less savory as the evening wears on. Best for her to
come home before the inevitable drunken fight occurs, or the sobbing,
dramatic public breakup. (But I'm just mean, and don't want Manda to
have any fun, ever)

Cheryl wrote:

Hmmm I'm assuming Bob has the official version of "Ten Rules for Dating
my
Daughter"?????

if not -they can frequently be found on the web.... oh here's a copy
http://snipurl.com/afru
I'm sure he will recogonize these...
ROTFL

I do believe he wrote those rules. :-) If anything, he would like
to be even stricter than anything that's stated there. (He actually
thought that the summer camp run by nuns was a good idea!) You know
it's bad when Manda considers me to be the lenient one on any matter.

Kathy N-V