Anxiety of a New Level

   

     Normally I blog about things as they happen but for some reason I didn't share this story when it happened.  I have retold the story a few times now and realize I should have just blogged it in the first place.

     It wasn't until 4 weeks and 1 day before my expected due date that I finally got an appointment with the doctor that is supposed to deliver this baby.    She is the same doctor that delivered my last 2 boys and typically I would have seen her a few times by that point.  Since it was a little later than usual and I hadn't seen my family doctor in over a month there were a few (unpleasant) things that needed to be done.  With that stuff done she goes through the rest of the appointment like normal and tells me to make an appointment for every Thursday until the week after my due date.  Then she springs on me that she is going on vacation for 2+ weeks and I will have to see her resident Dr. Boy for my next 2 appointments....  I know I've been through this whole birth thing 3 times already but no pregnant women likes surprises -especially at this point in a pregnancy.  Her vacation not only means that I will not be seeing her for 2 appointments but it also means she will not be delivering my baby if I go into labour in the next couple of weeks which is quite possible.  Let the anxiety soar!

     I left the appointment feeling anxious and a bit stressed.  Between the hour plus wait sitting in pregnancy unfriendly chairs, the news that my doctor very well could be away when I went into labour and that I was going to have my next to visits with Dr. Boy instead......Wait a minute....I didn't meet Dr.  Boy.  No face visual, no introduction, no handshake, nothing and I'm expected to let this dude all up in my business next week?  Welcome to another level of anxiety!

     When the appointment with Dr. Boy (He gets the alias of Dr. Boy as he looks to be almost old enough to grow a beard.  Until you can grow a beard you are a boy) finally came I was a bit relieved.  Dr.  Boy was really nice and not "hot" -there is nothing worse than a really great looking doctor when you are there for appointments below the waist.  The blushing and stuttering just seems to make the whole experience that much worse.  He was very professional and the appointment didn't seem so unlike that of my usual doctor.

     He measured my bump and felt around to see the position of the baby.  Then he got out his stethoscope to listen for the baby's heartbeat.  He set the scope and listened, set the scope again and listened, set the scope again and listened, set the scope and listened, gave the baby a little poke and listened, poked the baby again and listened, gave the baby a little shove and listened, another shove and listened, yet another shove and listened.  This went on for what seemed like forever....  Through all this poking and shoving going on, my usually extremely active baby didn't budge a smidgen... At least if the baby were wiggling around I would just know it was Dr. Boy's issue and not a problem.  I could feel my own heart rate pick up, my cheeks start to get hot.  I could feel myself start to sweat and basically about to $hit a brick.  Finally I couldn't stand it anymore and I looked at him and said "Dude, you are freaking me out!"
He looked back and said "ummm I'm going to go get the doppler".
"I think that would be a really good idea." -You think?!
...and I reached a new level of anxiety I didn't even know existed.

     When he returned with the doppler and started probing around again things were not much better and it still took him forever to find the heartbeat but he did eventually find it.  Apparently the baby was laying in a weird position that was making it hard to get to an area where the heartbeat is easy to get....and apparently having one hell of a good sleep to have remained so still through the poking and pushing he was getting.

     I think Dr. Boy and baby Cuatro were in on a practical joke together.  Dr. Boy said "I'll pretend like I have no idea what the heck I'm doing, you just lay there and don't move a muscle and we'll see how long it takes before she completely loses her $hit.  It will be hilarious."  Yeah, really effing hilarious...

Times a Tickin'

   

When Papa Bear talked me into trying for Baby #4 (I wanted to make a cheesecake, he wanted to make a baby) we made a deal.  The deal was that Papa Bear would complete the not yet started renovation on our back room and make it into an office/bear cave to free up the room that was currently our office to use for the baby.  It was agreed that this renovation would be complete by Little Bear's birthday which was at the beginning of March.

     Papa Bear is the definition of procrastination.  It is now the middle of May and less than 3 weeks from Baby #4's due date.... We do not have a complete office and we do not have a complete (or even started) nursery.  You can imagine how incredibly happy this makes me.   It's not like I can renege on my half of the agreement.  We are currently waiting on carpet that I ordered yesterday for the back room.  The crib and dresser and other assorted baby items are scattered throughout my living room in the meantime.  This also makes me very unhappy.  We women do this thing called "nesting" in the final weeks of pregnancy where we go completely crazy cleaning and reorganizing our homes in preparation for the little one on the way.  The state of chaos that is my home at this moment is really standing in the way of my nesting and trust me, this house is in need of some serious nesting.

    To make matters worse, instead of helping me to empty the nursery of our office contents, Papa Bear woke up and decided that he would lay the tile in our mud room that I purchased 4 or so years ago.  Not only does this choice tie up Papa Bear from helping me but it means my washer and dryer are unhooked and moved into another room making them useless until the tile job is complete.  Papa Bear has been at it for almost 4 hours and has less than a quarter of the tiles laid.  Taking into consideration his pace and the amount of work still required to finish I should have my washer and dryer back in commission by.....I don't know....July!

    Times a tickin' and I'm pretty sure you are not supposed to put road blocks like this in front of a nesting mother.  I'm pretty sure bad things will happen -like a new swear word is invented or she just goes bad $hit crazy which is where I think I'm headed.  I don't know how much more I can take and I just know that this little peanut is in my uterus going "I am totally coming before my due date just to screw with her".   No name, no nursery and a mother that is only inches from the nut house -not a great way to start out.  I would just stay put if I were you little mister.

Game Time

   Who doesn't love a good ol' game of Where the Eff is That Noise Coming From at 2am?  Me, that's who.  Especially since I haven't been able to get more than a few hours of sleep a night in months.  However, there I was, laying wide awake in bed questioning my sanity as I was sure I was hearing a high pitched chirping noise piercing the quiet in about 1 minute intervals.

   I was laying there thinking, "I am hearing that right? It's not the wind blowing something outside or something dumb like that right?"  

I look beside me and Papa Bear hasn't flinched.  Not surprising since he has made it clear over and over again that he is half deaf and doesn't listen.  This fact is made evident by times when Little Bear asks a question like, "did you get dog food?" 

and Papa Bear responds with something like, "Adopted?!"

Anyway, after deciding I was indeed hearing it and that it sounded like the familiar sound of a smoke detector with a dying battery I poked the bear and told him to find the source since he was supposed to have just checked and changed batteries in all the detectors at Daylight Savings time.

   So Papa Bear proceeds to stumble around the house like a drunken teenager on prom night and standing under each smoke detector (since the we built the addition to our house we have quite a few, like 5 or 6 I think) and listening for the chirp.  He came back to bed and declares the sound is coming from our room and I'm going to have to find it.  How the hell could it be coming from our room?  We don't have a smoke detector in our room or anything else that should be making a similar sound.  Up I get and morph into Sherlock Holmes mode and do the Walk 3 Steps, Listen shuffle.

     After a few minutes I had the sound isolated to our en-suite bathroom.  "It's coming from in here!  I whisper yell to Papa who drunk stumbles into the bathroom with me and we stand and listen....  I can hear it.  I just can't find the source.  Like  a crazy person I start digging through the vanity and dropping my 4 weeks from delivery pregnant body to the floor to peer underneath it to see if I can find what is keeping me awake at this hour.  Still can't find it.

     Finally I start on the vanity drawers.  Now, in my drawer on my side of the vanity you will find things like my hair brush, hair ties, facial wipes, my makeup bag a few pieces of assorted jewellery -you know the sort of thing that SHOULD be in the bathroom.  On Papa Bear's side, if you open his drawer you will find his electric razor, earphones, pens, pencils, a pack of gum, an old cell phone, sink and tap manuals, an old grocery list, a handful of change, a few random pieces of hardware and shoved to the very back....1 old smoke detector with a blinking light and chirping in 1 minute intervals....that was all but whipped at him by a very sleep deprived, very fat and bloated, very bitchy pregnant lady at 2:35 in the mutha loving morning.

     "Now tell these folks what they've won for playing our game tonight Jim!"

"Well Bob, they've just won.....a very rough Friiiiiiiiiiiday with no possibility of a nap!"
.....Awesome.....