Sonogram

Obstetric Sonogram:
An ultrasound-based diagnostic image
that visualizes subcutaneous body structures,
including tendons, muscles, joints, vessels,
and internal organs during pregnancy.
(Wikipedia).

Kathy turned into the parking lot entrance of the Little Company of Mary Hospital, in Torrance. We were 20 minutes early for the appointment.
“Why don’t you call Prisa to see if we’re in the right place?” I suggested, once Kathy had parked the car.  “You can ask where we’re supposed to meet them?” She gave me her “Gosh, why didn’t I think of that?” look, as she took her cell phone from her purse to call.
“Hi Pris,” she said into the speaker. “Where are you? We just arrived and don’t know where we should meet you and Joe.” She listened for a few minutes longer and then closed the lid of the phone. “They’re on Torrance Blvd,” she told me, “and should be here soon. Prisa said to wait for them in the lobby”.
There was nothing remarkable about the hospital other than its name. It looked tall and angular, with a circular driveway in front of the admitting lobby. The weather was slightly overcast and grey, and I was glad I’d taken the precaution to bring a coat. We walked through a wide, sliding glass door, into a spacious lobby that ran from one end of the building to the other. There was a pharmacy at the south end, and a bank of elevators in the center. Kathy walked straight to the directory of doctors and offices and stared at it for a long time.
“Do you know who the doctor is?” I asked, looking over her shoulder.
“I think it was a woman’s name,” Kathy replied. “But I’m not sure.”
I stared at the names listed under Obstetrics and Gynecology, but I had no clue which was Prisa’s doctor. “Let’s just wait for them in the lobby,” I suggested, moving to a vacant bench. Instead of joining me, however, Kathy nervously entered the pharmacy and began perusing greeting cards. I kept my eyes glued to the entrance doors, inspecting the people entering and leaving. The click-click-click of heels on the hard, gleaming linoleum floor, alerted me to the remarkable number of tall, long-legged women walking by. I’d forgotten how many professionally dressed women subjected themselves to tight skirts and harsh footwear in order to appear sleek and shapely. Kathy ended my haute couture speculations when she returned to the lobby and sat next to me.
“Are you sure the doctor will allow us both in?” I asked, dubiously.
“That’s what Prisa said,” she answered confidently. “One person besides Joe can definitely join her in the examining room, and she was sure they would let us both in”.
I wished I felt as confident as Kathy sounded. I wasn’t even sure that I really wanted to see my daughter examined by a doctor? Would she have to undress? Hospital gowns were ridiculously open and revealing. When I first heard Prisa mentioning this possibility to Kathy, I impulsively quipped, “Can I come too?” I didn’t want to be left out, and I was curious about all this sonogram talk between mother and daughter. Now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I could just wait outside during the examination, and look at the pictures later. At that point in my revelry, I saw Joe and Prisa through the glass as they triggered the automatically opening entrance doors.

“Hey Prisa! Hi Joe!” we greeted them simultaneously. “How are you doing?”
We exchanged hugs and kisses and then made our way to the elevator bay.
"What is the name of your doctor?” I asked. “Your mother and I couldn’t find her on the directory?”
“That’s because we’re not seeing my OBGYN, who is a woman. We are seeing Dr. Naylor. He is the ultrasound specialist. My doctor referred me to him for the sonograms at the first and second trimester examinations.”
“Oh, I see,” I replied, sagely, pretending to understand the reason for two doctors and the meaning of the terms she used. From that point on, I kept quiet, and Kathy and Prisa continued a steady conversation about school, grades, and her developing pregnant condition, while Joe and I waited for the elevator, and on the ride to the 5^th floor.
“Wait till you see the office,” Prisa said as we entered the elevator. “It took me a while to figure out what was different. The entire ambiance of the room is calm and soothing, from the color, the décor, to the receptionist. It’s a wonderful experience.”
Approaching the suite, I made out the words Pacific Perinatal Center as Joe opened the door. The effect wasn’t as startling as entering the City of Oz with Dorothy and Toto, but Prisa was right. The olive green and muted yellows of the walls and fabric, combined with the assuring browns of the oak furniture and chairs, to give the room a tranquil peacefulness.
“Good afternoon,” the receptionist in the forest green and brown smock, said to Prisa, soothingly, from behind an open counter. “How are you doing?” Not, How can I help you? Who are you here to see? What do you want? But an instant recognition of the patient, and concern for how she was feeling with her pregnancy. I was impressed.
“Fine, thanks,” chirped Prisa. “We’re here to see Dr. Naylor for an ultrasound.”
“Excellent,” she replied. “We’ll be moving you to an examination room and he’ll see you there”.
As we sat down in the comfortably cushioned chairs, I looked over at Kathy and said in a sufficiently loud and whiney voice, “Do you really think they’ll let us all in?” Prisa responded to my verbal concern by addressing the receptionist again.
“At the last appointment,” she began, “the doctor said it would be alright to have other people present at the next ultrasound. Will my parents be able to come in with me?”
The receptionist smiled and said, “There shouldn’t be a problem as long as there is space in the room. I’ll check with the doctor to make sure.”
“You know, honey,” I said to Prisa, “if there’s not enough room for all of us, I think Joe and your mother should go. I can wait out here.”
“I think there will be plenty of room, Dad,” Prisa said, laughingly. “They just don’t want patients to invite tons of people to these examinations”.
“Some patients do go a little overboard,” the receptionist volunteered. “Every once in a while a couple is tempted to invite enough people for a party. As long as it’s just the three of you, there should be no problem.”
“See, Dad,” Prisa reassured me. “Everything will be fine.”
A few minutes later, another assistant in the same colored smock came out and asked us to follow her to the examination room.

 

I suppose I expected to feel a sense of déjà vu with Prisa’s pregnancy and her medical appointments. After all, I had gone through 2 pregnancies and two “C-sections” with Kathy. I thought we would see many similarities to the experiences Kathy and I shared, but everything was different. I felt I was in a strange, new, futuristic land, where everyone spoke a foreign language. None of the names, places, initials, and procedures was familiar to me. I talked to Prisa’s after her first visit to the doctor, and saw the ultrasound images taken of the baby on April 27. They were a wonder I couldn’t comprehend. The closest Kathy and I ever got to “viewing” our babies in the womb, were fetal monitoring devices that allowed us to hear “whooshing” sounds, and the beating of their hearts. The only way we knew that the babies were growing and doing fine were in Kathy’s descriptions of what she was feeling, and her outward manifestations. So far Prisa didn’t look very pregnant. She only showed what she called a “baby bump” for this second trimester exam. The sonogram images she emailed us, appeared blurry and unfinished, and I didn’t know what to expect from this second visit. Prisa and Joe were entering a brave new world with their pregnancy, and this would be my first attempt at sharing it.

The examination room looked like a large computer office in dark soothing colors, with a lounge chair. There was a large, dark grey, reclining examining table, next to a black computer monitor and oversized console. The monitor was the size of a high definition television screen, and it swiveled. There was another large screen mounted on the wall, overlooking the room. Three chairs lined the far wall next to the examining table, leaving the moveable, operator’s stool in front of the console. Prisa hopped onto the table.
“Okay,” she announced. “This is it.”
“Are you going to have to disrobe and get into an examination gown?” I asked in an embarrassed voice.
“I didn’t the last time,” Prisa said. “There’s not much of a baby bump to examine down there, but we’ll see”.
“Look,” Kathy interrupted. “The screen is already set up with Prisa information”. We looked up at the mounted screen to verify that indeed there was a grid-like, Excel sheet with Prisa’s medical information on it. It showed her name, birth date, estimated delivery date, and a variety of obscure words and numbers.
“The due date may change after this examination,” Prisa noted as we were looking up. “Wait till he turns the machine on and you see the 3D effect. It will freak you out!”
I wasn’t sure what that statement meant, or what we would be seeing on the screen. Prisa had sent us the first set of two-dimensional, ultrasound images two months before. I assumed they would look the same on screen. “So, are you going to ask him about the sex of the baby?” I said, looking away from the screen.
“Yes,” Joe said firmly, sitting next to me.
“Joe and I talked about it, Dad,” she said, “and we definitely need to know. The suspense would drive Joe crazy.”
A few minutes later, a young man breezed into the room. He had a boyish face and crew cut hairstyle, wore a trim, blue surgical tunic. “Hello, Teresa and Joe,” he said crisply. “How are we doing?”
“Hi,” Prisa responded. “I’m doing fine.”
The lanky, muscular fellow, looked like a fresh-scrubbed, college grad, so I assumed he was the ultrasound technician, or specialist. He greeted Kathy and I, and then he sat down on the stool next to Prisa, peppering her with questions about the pregnancy. I thought them rather personal for a tech to ask, but Prisa was comfortable answering them candidly, so I put my doubts aside.
“Okay,” he announced, “why don’t you unbutton and I’ll get you ready”. Prisa leaned back into the lounge chair and opened the top of her jeans as the tech placed some clear gel onto a square, curved instrument, connected to a cord that ran back to the console. He spread the gel on her abdomen, and said, “Okay, let’s take a look inside and see how the baby’s doing.” With that he switched on the console with his left hand, and the overhead screen instantly changed. The reassuring grid was replaced by a murky black field, with swatches of white and grey splashed on it. Suddenly I thought I saw a shape emerge.

I expected a warning. Some hint, a clue, or a sound. Wasn’t I supposed to hear sloshing noises, or something? I didn’t know what was going on, or what I was seeing.
“There’s your baby’s head,” he said soothingly, as a ghostly image materialized on the screen. “Let’s see if we can get a better look.” He moved the instrument a little on Prisa’s stomach, and the image on the screen turned 90 degrees. “That’s better,” he said. “You can see a face and a hand in front of the mouth”.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, as I reached out to grasp Kathy’s hand. I could actually see a baby’s face and a little nose! How was that possible? Thankfully, Kathy squeezed my hand tightly, indicating her own amazement.
“Okay,” the young technician continued, “let’s take some measurements, so we can chart the development from your last visit.”  The view returned to the top of the skull, and a cursor arrow appeared on the image, marking a spot at one end of the skull, and then the other. Suddenly a dotted line materialized between the two points. “We’ll take a picture of that,” he explained, as the screen froze for a second.
The experience was like watching an old-fashioned, silent movie, on an out-of-whack, monochromatic television set. I could see moving shapes of white against a black and grey background, which momentarily turned into concrete images. I saw a kaleidoscope of body parts, a tiny foot, a leg, and a chest. My only lifeline from total bewilderment was the ultrasound specialist’s calm and professional voice, explaining each picture, and describing what he was doing. But even this reasonable narrative couldn’t stop me from halting my breath when I saw the distinct picture of the baby’s curving spine, running from head to waist. It was so clear, and so sharp, that I could have counted each vertebra. Until that moment I had been looking, dispassionately, at shadowy images of a baby’s anatomy. Now, for the first time I saw my daughter’s child, whole and alive, and inside her womb. My brain fevered with questions and revelations. How could someone so distinct and whole, be tiny enough to fit inside Prisa’s small “baby bump?” The baby was so complete! My impulse was to shout this epiphany to the world and weep for joy, but I squeezed Kathy’s hand instead.

“Okay,” the tech paused, sitting up straight on his stool. “Do you want to know the sex of the baby?”
“Yes!” Joe cried suddenly, practically leaping from his chair. He had been sitting silently in a chair to my left all this time, never moving or making a sound until then.
“I don’t think Joe can survive 5 more months without knowing,” Prisa explained. “We decided to find out.”
“All right let’s take a look,” he said, turning back to the console. We all looked up at the screen. “We’ll need a different view,” he explained, and the perspective switched from looking down at the baby’s head, to looking up from the baby’s bottom. Two tiny legs extended out, as from a sitting position, and a cursor arrow appeared in between. “Nothing there,” he announced. “Congratulations, you are the parents of a baby girl!”

I lost track of the remainder of the technical questions between the specialist, Prisa, and Joe, in a hazy of euphoria. Of course, the baby had to be a girl. What perfect symmetry! My baby girl was having a baby girl.
“Okay, then”, the tech concluded. “Let me have your data disk so we can record the video on it, and I’ll have some pictures for you to take home”.
“Great,” Prisa said. “We’ll see you in a minute”.
We started recovering jackets and purses as Prisa adjusted her clothes and hopped off the examining table.
“I am so happy for you,” I said, covering her in my embrace and kissing her on the cheek. “A girl is perfect! I can already imagine the things we’ll do and the places we’ll go.”
“Now Tony, don’t get too excited,” Kathy said, patting me on the shoulder. “Don’t go buying her a basketball and a softball glove yet. She may not turn into another Prisa, and become your sports companion.”
“I know, I know,” I said, struggling to contain my excitement. “All babies are different and unique, and they grow up to become what they will. I know that. Come to think of it, I bought the balls and gloves for Toñito. Prisa just watched us practicing until she was ready to play. She studied the sport until she knew she could master it. I’m not expecting another Prisa”.
“Good, Dad,” Prisa interrupted, shaking her head. “Right now, I just want to get through the pregnancy. Are we ready to go?”
“Wait a minute,” I interjected quickly, panicking at her sudden haste. “When do you see the doctor? Isn’t he going to examine you, or is he just going to review the technician’s pictures and data?”
Prisa gave me an open-mouthed look of wonder. “Dad,” she said, shaking her head, “Weren’t you paying any attention? That was Dr. Naylor. He is my doctor! Who did you think he was?”
I smiled innocently, and gave my baby girl another kiss on the cheek. It was a strange, new world we were entering, and ingenuous and unprepared as I was for the journey, I was coming along.
“I’ll pay more attention next time,” I concluded.