Stranger In A Strange Land

There comes a time in every man's life where he must, for the sake of his family, venture into uncharted territory.  Into a place where his wits, education, instincts, and skills are no longer of any use to him, and he must wander into the great unknown.  This, of course, is the first time you have an appointment to be seen at the office of your wife's OB/GYN.

  

I wasn't feeling particularly confident about myself that morning.  I had an appointment with a medical professional who would confirm that I had in fact knocked up my wife, which from a man's perspective, is beat into our minds as the figurative "Game Over" since we first saw that video of a fish swimming toward the DeathStar in 5th grade health class.  Beyond this, I was going to sit in a room full of women with "what are you doing here" eyes and have my wife justify my lack of a full-time job and relative career uncertainty.  Swell.

  

I tried to put my best foot forward, and decided to at least not look like a total schmo.  I threw on a pair of khakis, button-up shirt, and brown leather shoes, figuring that this was the appropriate level of business-casual.  I descended the stairs to the jeers and laughter of my wife, part-furious with why I was "so dressed up".  I tried to explain to her that I was simply trying to look professional, at which point she reminded me that for the majority of our appointment, she would be wearing paper from the waist down.

  

To say that I stood out upon entering the office is an understatement.  Amidst the pastel couches and wallpaper festooned with framed advertisements for myriad forms of birth control and medications for various, non-dinner-table-conversation afflictions, I stood stoic, beside my wife.  I suddenly felt the sting of a dozen you-did-this-to-her glares land upon me, and for the first time in my life, had the fleeting wish that I could transform into an old copy of Highlights magazine.

  

When we were finally shown to an exam room, I had grown excited.  My wife was learning to appreciate the building's HVAC system from beneath her blanket of deli paper, and I explored as much of the room as I could while still following my wife's explicit instructions, "stay at the top of the exam table, you idiot."  Things I learned:

1. The Welch Allyn exam spotlight can be turned on by simply holding your hand near it, and no actual touch of the power button is required (definitely sanitary).
2. The Mirena IUD demo applicator in the plastic uterus display is basically a small crane game, and one cannot help but play with it.
3. Speculums make great puppets, but your wife will not appreciate the show... even if you use all your good voices, and alliteratively name the protagonist "Specky".
4. Your wife's "smacking distance" is shortened significantly if she is without underpants.

    

I have never considered myself a real math person, but have had relative success figuring things out over the years with applicable calculations.  That being said, when the doctor broke out the charts and wheels associated with calculating Jan's "LMP" (ladies, you know), she might as well have pulled out an abacus and done calculus in Mandarin.  It struck me that the date by which we will calculate the trajectory of our next year, the all-important "Due Date" is based upon my wife's recollection of a routine incident that last happened over 2 months ago.  ...meanwhile, I couldn't remember what time I woke up that morning.  What kind of exact science is this?!?

  

We were relieved to discuss our mercifully uneventful family history for heritable and obstetrically-linked medical problems, and were thrilled when we were able to cajole our doctor into giving us a same-day referral for an ultrasound.  We raced down the road to the ultrasound clinic, which was an adventure in and of itself.  It was located on the ground floor of an apartment complex, and staffed, essentially, by the extras from every early 90s Harrison-Ford-versus-The-Soviet-Union film.  They had the technology though, and what it all boiled down to was two full grown adults, one of whom was experiencing the joy and comfort of an <ahem> "internal" ultrasound... reduced to tears.  We heard the tiniest, strongest little heartbeat, and as Oksana was able to show us on the screen, we were having: a kidney bean.  ...and it was the most beautiful kidney bean either of us had ever seen.

  

The best cry I've ever had over a bean.