[Disclaimer: If you are a dude who does not like to read about lady bits, then you should not read any further. That is, assuming the title didn't already warn you and you actually made it to this disclaimer. Or that the following picture doesn't scare you off.]
A funny thing happened at the first appointment with my midwife last week…
Let me set the scene. There I was, feet propped up in stirrups, dress pulled up above my waist while my midwife snapped on latex gloves explaining that she needed to look for my cervix. Adam sat nervously in a chair next to the examining table, averting his eyes as the midwife proceeded to poke around inside of me.
“Hmmmm…..” she said, after a few minutes of work, looking up at me. “I seem to be having a hard time finding your cervix. I’m just going to go a little deeper.”
“Ummmm…okay?”
A few more painful and silent moments go by as she palpates, what feels like, all of my internal nether regions. I keep telling myself to breathe, that I’m quite confident I actually have a cervix, and that I’m sure she’ll stumble upon it at any minute.
“This is embarrassing, but I can’t seem to locate your cervix. Have you had other doctors say something about the position of your cervix before?”
“Well, I did have one Ob/Gyn that told me my cervix was shy.”
{Side note, if you’re going to have an adjective associated with your cervix, shy isn’t a bad one. It could be worse. You could have an angry cervix. Or a stubborn cervix. What about a dirty cervix?}
The mid-wife smiled a bit.
“Of course, I don’t really think my cervix is shy. I just think she needs a few drinks before she comes out of her shell and warms up to people.”
The mid-wife looked confused.
“Yes, I have heard that about my cervix before. But seriously, I just had an ultrasound last week where we saw my cervix on a small screen, so I’m pretty sure it’s still there.”
She apologized again, telling us that this kind of thing never happens. Like normally, she’s an award-winning cervix-sniffing superstar.
My husband didn’t say much.
The mid-wife grabbed my chart, looked at my ultrasound and told me I was right. They had not only captured my elusive cervix in the picture of the ultrasound, but they had even measured it.
“You have a long cervix. That’s a good thing.”
(Although also a bad thing, because it meant that she couldn’t find it. You would think something long would be easier to find, but then again, I’m no scientist.)
So I guess this story does have a happy ending.
I do still have a cervix and it’s long. Both of these things are going to be pretty crucial in the delivery of my child, I’m thinking.
But, then, after my appointment, I couldn’t stop wondering…what if my cervix had been missing? Where might it have run off to? So I present to you, the top five places you could probably find my cervix:
- The Bermuda Triangle.
- That kegger up on the Hill.
- Celebrity Rehab.
- FBI Witness Protection Program.
- The first van that looked good.
{Photo notes: I stole all of these images off the internet but at least I’m honest about it. Additionally, in case you’re wondering, none of the cervices pictured above are mine. And finally, how awesome is it that the first picture of the cervix at the top of this post was created by an organization with the same name as my husband?}
