32 Ounces

That is the amount of water I was instructed to drink prior to my first non pregnancy-related ultrasound today.

I thought I was going to bust a gut on the drive over. It didn't help that it was sprinkling outside. Of course I had to park a mile from the hospital entrance because naturally, that's where the only spaces are. I made it inside the hospital and all the way down to the waiting room without incident (or accident). But when I finally settled into a chair and looked up, what did I see: the biggest painting of waves crashing ashore I have ever seen. Hey Army--that is seriously sadistic.

I would have chuckled at the irony of it all, but I was seriously one sneeze away from being a "clean up on Aisle 12". After what felt like an eternity, but was actually 5 minutes, I heard my name. The tech was looking directly at me:

Tech: Sharon?

Me: Yes?

Tech: I could tell it was you. You have that look on your face.

The look like I'm about to wet myself if a fly so much as lands on me? That look? Then yeah, I'm your girl.

He was kind enough to get the bladder business out of the way right off the bat, God bless him. He and the chaperone then returned after I was excused to the bathroom. At one point during the ultrasound, the tech informed me he was checking the blood flow to my parts "down there". All of a sudden, the sound of a heartbeat filled the room. He must have seen a new look on my face because he said, "Don't panic. That's your heartbeat."

I told him I would have some explaining to do seeing as how my husband is deployed. But I got the distinct feeling they've seen it all---"Immaculate Conception" during a deployment included.

He couldn't provide me with the test results-whether there's a cyst or something else-but told me to call my doctor myself if I hadn't heard back in a week's time. I couldn't read his expression, but if I were really dying he wouldn't have just let me walk out like that, right? Right?