(Head over to the Stirrup Queens if you’d like to read more of today’s #MicroblogMonday posts.)
The waiting room at my OB’s office has one door on the right and one on the left. Whenever I come in for an appointment, I am first called in through the door on the right, where I have a quick ultrasound and am given a little packet of photos before being sent back out to await being called back to meet with my doctor through the door on the left.
Each time this has happened, I’ve been a bit unsure of what to do with my ultrasound photos while I wait. I want to pore over them right away, examining every precious detail with my husband, but I am in the middle of a room full of women who are at that same office for, I imagine, very different reasons; I don’t want to flaunt my happiness in front of anyone who might be hurting. To be more sensitive, I could simply slip them inside my purse and save them for later, but I don’t want them to get wrinkled or torn.
So, I usually glance over the photos briefly and then hold them quietly in my lap. I love seeing those grainy images of our new little person, and I love receiving a reassurance at each appointment that s/he is growing and healthy. OB offices haven’t always been such an easy place for me to sit, though, and I can’t help but think that those two doors must have witnessed some of the highest of highs and the lowest of lows over the years, with hearts full of emotion hidden behind the still faces of so many who sit and wait in that room.