But I sucked it up and went back. I was shaking the whole time in the waiting room. I finally got called back after an hour and a half of waiting (it's cool, I didn't have to pee or anything after the 3 bottles of water you made me chug in preparation for this test... take your time, no rush). Imagine my horror when I realized it was the same exact ultrasound tech who had given me my bad news about Dominic. She must have remembered me immediately, because the first thing she said to me, in broken English, was "ooohh what happened to your baby? You had very sick baby." Stellar. Just stellar. I stuttered a few phrases that could not have possibly been intelligible and then apologized and told her I didn't realize she would remember me.
Needless to say - it was about as traumatizing as I expected. But I didn't cry. Hey, I need to take the small little victories wherever I can get them. So now is the waiting game until I find out the results. Since I am "Worst-Case Scenario," I imagine what they found looked similar to the above diagram, a uterus riddled with Dementors, obviously. Oh, right, I'm supposed to be trying to be optimistic about the future. They probably found a healthy female reproductive system, I hope, since I am after all, a healthy 27-year-old woman.