h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I had my ultrasound scan this morning.

First of all, I had to drink a pint and a half of water an hour before the scan, so that my bladder would be full. So I did. Oh boy, did I. I sloshed when I moved. If I bent over, my mouth filled with water. I thought it was impossible to be any more uncomfortable.

I walked all the way to City Road again for the bus, and waited at the hospital. They took my letter off me. The radiology department was full of posters saying "Tell the radiographer if you think you might be pregnant!". Not exactly confidence-inspiring. I was called through to an anteroom, where another uncomfortable-looking woman was drinking water.

I had gel smeared onto my now-bursting stomach, and then the operator got the scanner and pressed it down onto my bladder. Hard. Really hard. Hard enough to hurt in the normal course of things. Imagine really, desperately needing to go to the bathroom ... you've been holding in for ages looking for a cubicle and you just have to go ... and then some bastard punches you right in the bladder. That's what it was like. And it went on for a quarter of an hour.

I lay there trying to dissociate out of it. Eventually I got shown a blurry picture of my uterus. Apparently it had a nice thin lining (not good - where's all that blood coming from?) and no pregnancy sac (which is definitely for the best).

Went to the bathroom. Oh yeah, baby ...

By the time I got off the bus and out of Tesco with milk and cheese, I needed to go again. I rushed home, trying not to think about running water. I have developed a new respect for pregnant women through all of this, though.

I am such a wuss.