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...

I Scream For Ice Cream

I'm not sure if Papa Bear has a death wish or just pure evil.  I've never thought of him as evil so death wish is most likely.
   
    Tonight he had a meeting to attend and left me to do showers and bedtime with 4 boys (my nephew is staying with me this week as well) by myself.  No big deal.  Bedtime is a fairly well oiled machine around here even with the extra boy.  Routine is the key to sanity.

     Now here is where Papa Bear went wrong.  He asked me before he left if I wanted anything while he was in town.  I told him I would love some ice cream and since he claims the local ice cream shop closes early through the week I said a sundae from McDonalds would do I just really wanted some ice cream.  He said he would bring home the ice cream.  He also claimed the meeting would only take an hour to an hour and a half.  I knew better than that but it didn't matter if there was ice cream to look forward to.

     For the rest of the evening I thought about the ice cream Papa Bear was going to bring me.  My mouth is still watering thinking about it as I type.  I was going to have a different snack but didn't want to spoil my appetite for when my ice cream showed up.  I made the boys' lunches for school and thought about ice cream.  I tidied up the kitchen and thought of ice cream.  I tucked the boys in and thought of ice cream.  I folded laundry and thought about ice cream.  I watched The Voice and thought about ice cream.

     When I heard the back door open (3 hours later) all I could think was "Here comes my ice cream.  Oh how I love ice cream.  I can't wait to dig into that deliciously cold ice cream".  As Papa Bear walked into the room I scanned his hands for my ice cream.  No ice cream.  "Where's my ice cream?"
"McDonalds closed early due to some sort of electrical issue"
"Ummm so...where's my ice cream?"

    MOTHER LOVER!  You can not promise a very pregnant women ice cream and not follow through!  You promise ice cream you damn well better follow through.  You do not promise ice cream and come home empty handed.  You find some freaking ice cream somewhere and you bring it home to your very hormonal and ice cream craving women carrying your child!  If this means you scour the ice chest of every variety store in town, you do it!  If this means you drive to the next town to get it you go get it.  If this means you have to make it yourself, you do it but you DO NOT under any circumstances come home without some sort of ice cream!

     I will likely think about the ice cream that wasn't all night and if I actually sleep tonight I will dream about ice cream but I will not be eating any ice cream tonight.  No there will be no ice cream for me.  Papa Bear will be lucky if I forgive him for this by the time this baby I am carrying turns 18.

I Need Sleep Peeps!

     I think the worst part of pregnancy is not being able to sleep during a time when sleep is very much needed.  Sorry, but I require a little more than 2.5-3 hours of sleep tonight to raise 3 busy boys, work, carry around an extra 30 pounds and have a tiny little critter suck the life out of me on a daily basis.  Pregnancy insomnia is one of Mother Nature's personal jokes (she has a lot including giving us November weather for April this year).  Of course there is no sympathy for this either with other moms responding with "it's just preparation for when that new baby comes".  No it's not!  This is baby #4 for me and I am pretty sure all 3 of my other boys slept more than 3 hours a night and there is something to be said for having a cute, little, pink baby to snuggle and stare at during those wakeful hours as opposed to the ceiling fan or the alarm clock.

   As if the headaches, heart burn, back pain, baby movements, leg cramps, and trips to the bathroom weren't enough to prevent sleep, I also sleep next to the Great Grizzly who either wakes me or prevents me from sleeping in the first place with the horrible sounds that come out of him while he proceeds to suck in the ceiling all night.  A lot of people snore when they sleep on their back -Papa Bear does that.  Some people snore when they sleep on their sides -Papa Bear also does that.  Few people snore when they sleep on their stomachs -how the heck does Papa Bear manage that as well?!  I guess last night he got sick of being elbowed and poked and yelled at to stop snoring because he eventually moved to the couch.  Best 2 hours of sleep I had all night!

     When it isn't aches and pains of my pregnant body or Papa Bear's snoring preventing sleep it is temperature.  I think our furnace has a mind of it's own and completely ignores the number it is set to.  I swear the hotter it is the more often I hear that bugger fire up as if opening the gates of hell.  This has resulted in me sleeping with the window above our bed open all winter to regulate some sort of tolerable temperature.  Poor snoring Papa Bear usually has enough fur covering to keep him warm at night without any blankets at all is now wrapped up in a blanket taco, he says to ward off the chill in our room...I have no idea what he is talking about.

   To top off the entire sleepless night it never fails that a certain child (ahem Wee One) feels the need to disrupt the last 1/2 hour of sleep before the alarm.  Apparently he hasn't received the memo that this is the most important 1/2 hour of the whole night and is not to be interrupted.  "Dad.  Dad.  Daddy?  Dad!" He knows better than to call Mama unless it is important -important being, sick, scared or hurt.  Not important being I can't find 1 of the 102 stuffed animals populating my bed at all times that I am actually laying on top of...  Mama doesn't seem to be quite as sympathetic to these problems at 6:15 in the morning as Dad might be.

   It is all of this that makes me dread bedtime (resulting in later night games of Words With Friends and finishing off the box of Popsicles) and look forward to the rare opportunities that present themselves for a nap. I bet you don't hear a lot of women say "I really can't wait until I have a newborn so I can get some more much needed sleep".  I need sleep peeps!

Catching Up - Again

      It's been about a year and a half since I touched this poor neglected blog. It's not that I haven't had anything to blog about. I just haven't been able to find time. Between the boys, working, baking and curling (yep, I'm Canadian AND cool like that), I can't seem to find time to sit down and type out the genius things that come to me at 2:30am when I'm fighting pregnancy insomnia or in the 10 minutes I get to try to shower and shave my entire body without company. I can manage to take all my turns on Words With Friends and to creep my friendemies on Facebook but not organize my thoughts into a blog post -anyone that has read the blog before can attest to my fabulous organization of thought *insert sarcasm here* (the title isn't RANDOM Blogness because it resembles any sort of organization). Placenta brain does not help the situation either. Things fall out of my head almost as fast as they pop into it these days. I guess I should do a little catch up.

      Since my last post (October 2011) not a ton has happened in the Bear Family. I quit selling purses and went back to work part time at one of North America's best known department stores. Of course there is a policy that prevents me from mentioning the name of that particular store but I will tell you it starts with a W and if you have ever shopped in your pajamas I can guarantee you've been there. I man the jewellery counter and spend my time there changing watch batteries, watch bands and cashing out groceries. It isn't really a job that challenges me but it puts some spendy money in my pocket and they are much better to their employees than the people I have worked for in the past.

      My boys are growing bigger and brighter everyday. Little Bear is now 10 -going on 30. He is turning into a little man complete with stinky armpits and pre-teenage attitude. I can really see him taking after me more and more all the time (except for the stinky armpits). He's quick as a whip and feels the need to have the last word in every argument. This seems to be the main road block when the two of us bump heads. Most of our arguments end in, "well I'm your Mother and I say that's how it's going to be" and him mumbling under his breathe hoping I don't hear him as he walks away. Fuzzy is 6.5 and finally starting to show off the intelligence I always knew he had but that he likes to keep a secret. He is quite a smarty pants but a little on the lazy side. While his teacher and I both knew what he is capable of doing he seems to have been just fine with just squeaking by. I can see this slowly changing and him wowing those that didn't have a clue. The Wee One is my stinker and never seems to be able to pass up an opportunity to find trouble. He has also become quite the comedian and regularly comes out with comments that I can't help but laugh at like "Mom, you're not just pretty. You're pretty useful too" or his insistence that we name his baby brother that is coming in June, Sensei. Which brings me to baby #4 who already seems to think he is funny by developing a penis and therefore making me the only female in a house with 5 males. I am destined to forever sit in pee on the toilet seat and be a defender against stink and stains all on my own. Of course there are a few perks of being the only queen in the castle. If there is something pink in the bottom of the clean laundry basket, there is a good chance it belongs to me which will save time when hunting for something to wear and after a while when the boys are all a bit bigger I will have the smallest under pants in the whole household.

      Incase you were wondering, no, we are not going to keep trying for a girl. Papa Bear and I are going to be done at 4 baby bears. Papa Bear will be getting the snip to prove it (haha). Sadly that pretty much wraps up what I think is blogworthy for the last year and a half. Again I will promise to try to find more time to blog but I'm a realist and know that I shouldn't make promises I can't keep, especially since I'm bound to forget by dinner.