….Excuse me, what?

Today was another appointment day. After less than five hours of sleep last night, my 8:30 a.m. appointment seemed all too early this morning. I put on one of Brent’s green t-shirts (Happy Saint Patrick’s day), loaded Little Miss up in her car seat, and headed to drop her off. Once she was settled, I headed to check in for my appointment.
The good thing about an early appointment, is there are plenty of parking spots, and no crowds to fight through at registration or elevator entrances. I was called right back and hooked up to the NST test. Little Man was movin’ and a groovin’ this morning and the NST sounded more like a wrestling match. His heart rate was good, especially after I drank some ice water. I was on the NST for quite a while this morning. I think the doctor wanted to be sure his heart rate was up high enough for long enough. I told the doctor about some random shooting pains I had over the weekend, and – get this, my blood pressure was 118/70. In the third trimester of my pregnancy. What?! The look on the doctor’s face was about the same as the look on mine when she told me what it was. We were both pleasantly surprised it was so good. Everything checked out today and I rode the elevator downstairs for my ultrasound.
Usually the ultrasound is first, but since the OB appointment was first thing this morning, it was the earliest they could schedule for today. Kelly & Michael were on TV in the radiology waiting room, and I got a few good hands of solitaire in on my phone before I was called back. Little man was still moving around, and breathing, so the ultrasound didn’t take a long time this morning since he got two major requirements out of the way in the very beginning. I did get to see him yawn twice, and it was about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen on an ultrasound monitor. I find it hard to imagine how he moves around and breathes in there, as if he’s not in a giant sac of fluid. It’s incredible to me.
After wrapping up the ultrasound, I had one more lab test to submit: the infamous pee-in-a-cup. I went back to the waiting room and sat through a torturous opening of The View until I was called back. The lab tech called my name, “Valerie?” I grabbed my stuff and stood  up as he continued, “….and….Hah….Harlynn?” I froze. I stared. What did he just say? I felt my ears getting hot and my heart start to race. Was this some sort of chart mix up or cruel joke? Just then I heard a gentleman, probably in his late 50s, say, “Yep, I’m Harlan.” as he stood and walked over to the lab tech. What are the odds? What are the odds I would be there for an appointment, and someone in the same town, in the same hospital, in the same room, would be called back at the same time, with the same sounding name as my precious little Harlynn? I didn’t know what to say or think, so I somehow just made my way back to the area I needed to go. 
When all was said and done, I walked back out to the car. The sun was shining, it was almost warm, and the air was calm. It was a beautiful morning. As tired as I was, I was grateful for a good appointment. A good, but incredibly strange and bizarre appointment. I did have to smile to myself. When we were coming up with names, before we knew what we were having, I had told Brent we could spell it Harlan, same spelling as our friends’ last name, for a boy, or Harlynn for a girl. Brent got all up in arms that Harlan was only a boy name and when he Googled it, the only thing he came up with was older men named Harlan. He would have elbowed me or something for sure had he been in that waiting room with me this morning. That is, after he had gotten over the shock of hearing her name called right after mine. Strange as it was, though, it was nice to hear her name. 
I wish you could have come to my appointment today, Harlynn, and seen your baby brother yawning and being all cute. He’ll be here in a matter of weeks. May is just around the corner. 

After picking Little Miss up, we went to the cemetery to visit Harlynn. It was seemingly fitting. We saw a couple of (huge!) turkeys wandering around, and Little Miss told Harlynn what she wished we could name her brother. (Today it was “Cosmo or David”) We blew her kisses and drove on home, so Little Miss could drink her traditional green milk. Apparently she remembered it from when I made it for her last year, and has had her heart set on it since.
I still can’t quite grasp what happened this morning. The odds have to be extraordinary, and then, for it to even happen. I’m taking it as a good luck sign on this Saint Patrick’s Day. A little way of knowing she’s with me wherever I go.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.