I have definitely had my fair share of ultrasounds during this pregnancy. So I now consider myself an expert on the process. Out of that five, two of my ultrasounds have been a huge disappointment.
I get that the purpose of an ultrasound is diagnostic and that it is not conducted for my entertainment, to calm my fears or to fill my baby book with in utero photos. But having said that, it is something that expectant parents look forward to and worry over throughout pregnancy. And every time an ultrasound is scheduled it is both exciting to see the baby and nerve-racking to hear the results.
I have had the misfortune of two jaded techs so far in this pregnancy and both times I left feeling angry and disappointed.
I understand that for them the job is boring and tedious and they are probably as eager for a coffee break as any other working stiff is. But quite frankly…I don’t give a shit what they feel. When I have to wait months for a ten-minute window into my womb to see my baby and confirm that he or she is not in peril I expect a little bedside manor. And if the tech can’t muster up some excitement then I expect that they will at least recognize that this is a big moment for the patient and fake some concern or enthusiasm.
The first horrible tech I had was when I was only seven weeks pregnant. I had been the week before for the initial ultrasound that my doctor had scheduled to date the fetus, but no heartbeat could be found. Which while completely normal for six weeks was a disaster for someone as obsessive and anxious as I am. So they had me come back the next week to try again.
Obviously I was very nervous and it showed. However I got neither a reassuring smile nor eye contact from the tech as I lay on the table waiting for her to tell me if the little spark inside me had gone out. I spent most of the time cracking little jokes to try to boost her spirits while I was falling apart with worry.
When she finally located a strong heartbeat and I began to cry with relief she sternly told me to “lay still”.
At this particular office the techs perform the diagnostic portion of the ultrasound without family or friends present and then after they allow the woman’s husband, mother, friend etc. into the room to see the baby and rejoice with or comfort the mother. This is the policy. I knew this from the previous visit, the signs posted in the lobby and the phone call I made earlier in the week to confirm that I could bring my girlfriend with me for support.
However this tech who was not just bored with the procedure but was maliciously trying to be as cold and callous as she could safely get away with refused without reason to allow my friend to come in. It didn’t matter that I had driven across town to pick up my friend. Or that the policy of the clinic was to allow me my support network.
And to top it off she allotted me one 2-second glance at my little bean with the blinking heart and denied me any further time with my baby.
I tried to calm my anger afterwards by telling myself that I was blessed that the baby was ok and that nothing else about the experience mattered. Which is true. In an attempt to excuse her behaviour I reasoned that maybe she had lost her own baby and couldn’t muster any joy for her patients. But I couldn’t reason the anger away.
With memories of the ultrasound tech from hell still haunting me the next day I decided it wasn’t fair to subject other nervous patients to the same treatment and I called her supervisor and complained. The tech I had the next time was an absolute doll.
My second jaded tech wasn’t the vengeful bitch that the first was. She was of the “move along, nothing to see here” or “ho hum” variety. This was the big ultrasound. I was excited to find out the sex and nervous about the scan’s ability to catch abnormalities. But once again I left disappointed.
This tech was briskly working her way through the morning patients with her eye on her lunch break. She muttered under her breath what every part was and how things were looking like she was whispering into a wiretap in her scrubs instead of talking to us. She made a half-assed attempt to discover the sex and another half-assed attempt to get a good photo for us.
Towards the end of the appointment she softened a little when the baby was being extra cute but for the most part she couldn’t have cared less and an appointment that was scheduled to take 45 minutes was over in under 15.
After the first bad experience I promised myself that I wouldn’t stand for it again. That next time I would politely vocalize my expectations (provided they were reasonable) instead of feel disappointed later. But the next ultrasound came and went with me biting my tongue. As outspoken as I am I find it hard to stand up for myself in this gooey situation. Lying there waiting for a stranger to tell me the fate of my baby and thus my future is enough to worry about.
I just wish the techs could remember how special this moment is for us, even though its nothing special for them.
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