Samantha calls my husband (I'm at work) very upset. She tells him that she went to the doctor again because she is bleeding. He tells me this (the next day, mind you, because men are a little stupid like that sometimes) and then explains to me that the doctor is going to do some bloodwork.
"What about a sonogram," I ask. "Did she mention a sonogram at all?"
"Yeah," he replies. "But they said they couldn't do it until next Tuesday."
"Yeah, supposedly, the guy who does the ultrasounds only comes into her office on Tuesdays."
"So you are going to tell me that she has to wait until Tuesday to find out if anything is wrong with the baby? Oh, I don't fucking THINK so."
I get on the phone with the doctors office. Mind you, this is the same doctor who delivered my boys. I am not a big fan of hers. She is pretty ice cold when it comes to bedside manner and on top of that, she is the size of a gnome with a face to match. She reminds me of those little troll dolls from back in the seventies. I get on the phone with the receptionist.
"Hello, Dr. Ramappa's office."
"Hello. This is CP. I am Samantha Stevensons mother. I am calling because she was told by the doctor that she couldn't have a sonogram until Tuesday. She is bleeding. I want a prescription written for her to have one done, STAT, at another facility."
"Well, the guy only comes in on Tuesdays and..."
"Sh. Sh. Sh. No and. No but. No however. Prescription. Now. Stat."
"Um, okay. Tell her to come in and pick one up."
See obviously, this shit is not going to fly with the mother of all grandmothers. I am ferocious when it comes to my kids and I expect to be worse as a grandmother. I am not exactly known for my patience and I know this will not be lost on Dr. Ramappa when she realizes whose kid this is having a baby. I must have let this bitch have it over a dozen times while she was my OB/GYN because I just didn't appreciate the way she spoke to people, namely, me.
Incidentally, her name is Renuka Ramappa, which makes me sing "Hakuna Matata" everytime. Try it. It's funny. And it fits.
Anyway, the sonogram was done. The baby who is eight weeks and three days along is fine. Little fluttering heartbeat. Strong fetal heart tones. A new and improved due date which is now October 31 instead of November 3. That means this baby will be born on Halloween, same as my sons were. I don't know if this is a good thing or not. My daughter is concerned about having a stillborn pregnancy like I did with one of my twins. I understand her concerns and try to remind her that pregnancy issues are not genetic for the most part. Just cause momma had trouble doesn't mean that she will.
I think there are going to be a lot more of these nerve wracking moments coming up. This morning, my babygirl puked all over the place. She looked in the toilet at some green blobby looking stuff and, while red-faced and in tears said..."Mom, I didn't even eat anything that looks like that!" I had to laugh.
The joys of motherhood are only beginning.