Yesterday’s ultrasound yielded positive results. The large, scary cyst is now a medium sized, moderately scary 3cm cyst. That is definitely a step in the right direction size-wise, so if I am lucky, it will continue to shrink.
When a woman is pregnant, all of her internal organs do a lot of shifting around as they are shoved aside to make room for a rapidly expanding uterus and baby. I never really over thought this process before. I acknowledged my sudden, oddly shaped abdomen and the mound of jiggle on top of the firm uterus and figured all of those innards had to go somewhere. I never wondered if there was an order to things, or if these parts got shoved out of the way in an orderly fashion.
After yesterday’s ultrasound I can tell you that, no, there is no order to it. I know this because the tech spent forever searching in vain for my ovaries which had become bedfellows with various other pieces of me. The right ovary was located about two inches above my bellybutton, shoved so dramatically to my right side you would have thought it wanted to hide behind my back. The left took up residence directly over my bladder.
It strikes me as funny that when you go in for an ultrasound they instruct you to drink 32 ounces of fluid two hours before the procedure and then hold it. I can’t pull that off when I’m not pregnant, and when I’m on my third time around and my bladder has already had it, I consider it a success to only be visiting the toilet every half hour. If I tried to hold it for two hours, plus the inevitable waiting room fifteen minutes, and then allowed someone to poke, prod, and generally apply pressure to my massively overfilled bladder. . .I would pee my pants. No questions asked. Frankly, I probably wouldn’t even make it onto the exam table before this happened.
As it was, I emptied my bladder exactly 25 minutes prior to the procedure, drank half a can of soda while driving, and arrived wondering where the closest bathroom was. Then I spent twenty minutes having a tech train in on my impressive ovarian cyst, and I got to enjoy the constant compression of my bladder.
Now, the baby was busy squirming around, nudging me very close to the same area, which is typical of him (I say him, not because I have proof, just because that’s what I’m going with). That little corner of the womb is his main hangout and the place he is most likely to express his approval of my need for ice cream. With all of the hullabaloo happening on the left side of my uterus, he swam to the right side, and snuggled in for a long, extremely curled up non-gender-specific nap. As you may have guessed, there was no answering the age old question, “does the baby have a hotdog or a cheeseburger.”
Next ultrasound is in T minus 32 days.