On the 25th of June 2013 I head back to the hospital for my check-up. I go alone, because it’s hard for Denny to get time off. The hospital is so far that you easily lose half a day going back and forth and if it’s not necessary for both of us to be there, then it’s a waste of his holiday days.
So one and a half hours later I’m back in the Reproductive Health department. Such fun, not.
I’m immediately nervous again. If there’s something ‘wrong’ with me too, then we can forget it. This time I have to wait longer, which is not very good for my nerves.
When it’s my turn it’s a different doctor. Later I learn that the whole department basically runs on doctors doing their internships and you NEVER see the same person twice. We run through my cycle and then I can get on the table for the sonogram.
I’m lying there, looking at the little screen and instead of seeing a tiny baby, or a flashing heartbeat I’m looking at my empty insides. It’s very unreal. I always thought that IF I found myself in this position it would be to look at my baby. No, this time they look at my ovaries, tubes and uterus. I stare at the screen. During my midwifery training we had to study the organs of reproduction in depth and draw them and I recognise them on the screen. But whether they look ok? I have no idea. I ask: “Does it all look ok?”