Paper Skirts and Pissy Chromosomes

Last week, I went to the doctor to confirm that I was indeed not knocked up anymore. I don't think they quite knew what to do with me.

The doctor, who was an ABSOLUTE sweetheart of a guy, decided to do an ultrasound to see if he could see anything. He was not convinced by my declaration that I'd had a miscarriage. I guess I can't really blame him because lots of women probably freak the fuck out when they're pregnant and see any blood. I knew, but I played along because to be honest, I was hoping against all hope that maybe I was wrong.

So anyway, he hands me a paper skirt, and says that he'll be back in a few minutes. I knew what to do.

Upon his return he said, "Are you all set?"

"Yes. So long as you promise not to make fun of me because my husband folded the laundry and as a result I am wearing one gray sock, and one black sock."

"Heh. I won't make fun. Actually, that happened to someone else on Monday."

But, guess what? I lied. Zube Boy didn't fold the laundry. I did. It was my fault that I was wearing socks that didn't match. The thing is, I figured if I had to be the one wearing a paper skirt, Zube Boy could most certainly take the blame for my appalling foot fashion.

*note to self - When and if you get knocked up again, invest in some really cute socks for doctor visits*

After the ultrasound, where nothing was seen by the way, he decided I should have a blood test to check my hormone levels. I fucking HATE needles. Hate. Like, hate with the passion of a thousand, uh, needles. AAAH! Anyway, the nurse is sticking a needle in my arm and telling me to relax, and I'm putting forth such effort to relax that I'm shaking.

I say, "Can you believe that I'm terrified of needles, yet I think I'm qualified to squeeze a kid out my cootch?"

"Heh. That's different. I promise."

To conclude, I was right. Hormone levels dropped all the way to zero in the span of two days.

What happens now is that the next time I find out I'm pregnant, I am to call the office and tell them I'm high risk for miscarriage (fun, eh?) and they'll have me come in and moniter my hormone levels to assure they're doing what they're supposed to.

If I have another miscarriage, goddess forbid, the doc recommended that we have our choromosomes tested because, from what I could gleen of what he said, our chromosomes might not be compatible. Did you ever hear of such a thing? That's some crazy shit right there. I'm not going to believe it, because I don't think it's possible for two people who are cool as shit to have chromosomes that don't get along.