No Pomp, No Circumstance, No Problem

I have been in no less than three graduation ceremonies in my illustrious educative career.  And, through all three I never got tired of the ceremony, the playing of Pomp and Circumstance as we paraded solemnly down the aisles, subtley craning our necks to see our relatives.  Of course, with my maiden name, I was toward the end of the alphabet so I usually got the tail end of the song, but it still had the cache.  I loved the feeling that I had earned this pageant and I was finally participating in something that everyone got to do. 

wicckedToday, I had my fourth graduation: we have officially been released to the OB.  This time, there was no ceremony, no cap or gown, just a brief check that Little Bugger was still in there and doing his disco thing (he was with a heartbeat of 175).  It was surreal and ordinary at the same time. 

I have thought (and agonized) about this moment a lot in the past.  I tried to imagine the feeling of knowing that I had finally made it to the next step.  I envisioned the nice parting hug from the doctor and the nurses and then being carried out on a litter leaving the office without looking back and moving onto the next grade: Big Time Pregnancy.  Reality was a wee bit different than fantasy.  The appointment was lightening fast – I don’t think I am particularly interesting now since I am no longer a problem to be solved.  I was given the name of the OB that Dr. Salsa handpicked for me on a post-it note.  We paid our final fee and like that, we were gone.

I realize though, that an uneventful graduation was exactly what I wanted and needed.  I didn’t want to be fawned over or exalted (although, being carried out on a litter would have been pretty awesome).  I just wanted to be patted on the back and sent on my merry way.  And that’s exactly what happened.

We already have set up the appointment with the new OB.  Not only have I graduated to the next level of pregnancy monitoring, I have graduated to the infertile gal’s version of the ninth ring of hell – an OB waiting room with lots of beaming pregnant ladies.  That might take a lot more to get used to.

image: wiccked

12 thoughts on “No Pomp, No Circumstance, No Problem

  1. _[____]_ = a virtual litter. 🙂

    Congrats! I am so, so very happy for you, Mr. X, and the Bugger.

    The early morning appointments at my OB generally are bump lite (though now I’m the problem and not the solution). It was hard to get used to not having ultrasounds all the time, not being treated like a disaster waiting to happen, and in general, the overall attitude that until proven otherwise, I was a healthy, normal woman who would have a baby in X months/weeks. Unnerving, I tell you.

    On a different note, due to the disco references, I find I have to put on “Night Fever” every time I check in on your blog. A sort of Pavlovian response to your tales of the Bugger.

  2. I, too, love graduating, hence having attended four of my own (not including high school!).

    Congratulations on passing on to the next phase. I hope those doctor’s visits at the regular OB aren’t too hard on the psyche.

  3. Last time I attended a graduation ceremony I stood there waiting to be called, never heard my name. That was the last time I attended a ceremony even for someone else.

  4. Congratulations on your no-frills graduation ceremony!

    When I graduated from elementary school, we had to learn the words that someone put to Pomp & Circumstance. I still remember them, 27 years later…

  5. YES!

    Here’s to a totally boring, easy-peasy textbook pregnancy!

    I think you should totally ask for a litter! It’s the least your OB could do, what with you being forced to sit in a room with so many oblivious pregnant bellies and all. =)

    I’m so proud of you!

  6. Congrats on your boring matriculation!! I share your waiting room apprehension – I think I actually had a rash when we left….. :/

    My special faves are the fertiles who bring their 4 other kids with them to the OB and yell at them the entire time. Just warms my black little heart.

    Hugs to ya, Mrs. X!

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