Look, my home is already filled with a grown man still obsessed with toys and a four-year-old who thinks it's hilarious to leap from the couch onto a floor. Add two more at once to that mix and I think you'd have a walking reality series.
So today was my appointment. Bright and early. My alarm went off at seven. I looked around in confusion. Wha? What's that beeping noise? Aliens? A burglar? Then I remembered and I rushed out of bed to beat Tom into the shower.
"Hey they're going to be looking at my coochie today!" I reminded him. "If anyone needs to be clean, it's me."
Then I pulled on a shirt that said "We can't all be morning people." Because I am so not. And because of this I trained Tommy after he turned a year old to entertain himself. No getting up at six or seven and disturbing Mommy, oh no. He learned he'd stay and play in his room until a decent hour. This makes for a happier family. Really. If Tommy were one of those kids who refused to stay in his room, who constantly walked in and disturbed me then I don't think I'd be having another.
I actually had to wake Tommy up. He was still asleep and I touched his back softly and he jumped and leaped right out of bed.
"MOMMY GO TO HOSPITAL!" he said in a louder than necissary voice.
"Yes. We're going."
Tommy looked concerned. "Mommy is sick?"
Even though I've been over that no, I'm not sick, that doctors needed to check the baby.
"Tommy, remember what we talked about? Why am I going to the hospital?" I asked gently.
He tapped his half asleep chin. "Uhh..uhh..the baby!" he said brightly, his brain computing.
"And no shots?" Tommy added, eyes wide.
"That's right, no shots."
Tommy relaxed some.
We left at seven fifteen. My appointment was at eight but the gates are always crowded around that time. So off we went. We even managed to find a parking spot near the hospital. This happens maybe 40f the time. Usually you have to park across the way, in the BX parking lot, because there is just no space and I'm not one of those people who can go round and round a parking lot. I'd rather walk.
Into the hospital we went. And oh, it reeked. Of antiseptic, of cafeteria food, of floor wax..I had to pinch my nose. We took the elevator up, walked to OB/GYN and I checked in. The woman behind the counter read my shirt. Laughed.
"Come now, morning isn't so bad!" she said in a peppy voice.
That's right. Peppy.
At 7:45 in the morning.
I can't even do peppy in the afternoon, when I'm fully awake.
It's probably why I was never friends with cheerleaders. People who are that freakishly happy freak me out.
No, I get along with those people who agree that morning is right on up there with eating brussel sprouts. The people I can have the following conversation with:
"Morning sucks. I hate morning."
"Morning should die."
"Yes it should."
I forced a smile for PeppyLady and took a seat in the waiting room.
When I was called back Tom came with me. We were led into this teeny tiny room. But the room had an ultrasound in it! I wasn't sure if I'd be getting one so I asked the nurse as she took my blood pressure and weighed me.
"Yes, you'll have one today after the pap."
The dreaded pap.
After she did that she told me to pee. I thought I'd have to go in a cup or something so I peered around the room.
"Er..do I need to uh, GO in something?" I asked.
"No. We just like you to pee before we do the exam."
Oh. Okay then.
So I peed.
Went back in the room. Tried not to stare at the pap stuff that was laid out for all to see.
Then the doctor came back.
"We lost your chart," she said apologetically.
My chart. All that paperwork that I filled out.
"You'll have to re-fill the paperwork out."
Darn military and losing stuff.
I was asked a bunch of questions. Was I allergic to anything? Did I smoke? Drink alcohol? How many pregnancies have I had? Any complications?
Everything was no.
Then the doctor said she'd be doing a well woman exam first. She pressed on my breasts and asked if I planned on breastfeeding.
"Yes I do," I answered.
"And you breastfed with your son?" she asked.
She smiled. "You make my job easy. I don't have to talk to you about the benefits of breastfeeding do I?"
Then she checked my uterus.
"I'd say you're measuring at ten weeks," she said, squeezing.
Which is what I figured. Actually I thought I was only NINE weeks so that bumps me up another week.
Then came the dreaded pap.
And while she was in the middle of it she asked me how old Tommy was.
That's right, head between my legs, scraping, asking me a question.
I know she did it because she could tell I was nervous. I don't know, the leg clenching and shaking might have given that away.
And then finally, the part I was waiting for.
It was internal though.
But still, she poked the wand up me and then there, on the screen, appeared this little thing, my baby.
You could make out the head and two little hands. The feet were shaking to and fro. And that little white dot in the middle, the heart, pumped.
"Would you like to hear the heartbeat?" the doctor asked.
I nodded. She flipped a switch and that wonderful noise filled the room.
"158 beats per minute. Wonderful," the doctor said.
Then she measured the baby. "Yup, ten weeks. Growing normally."
The baby even started to move a little. The little hands would dart to the sides and the feet would swosh and up up up the baby would go. Then it went down down down.
"Aww the baby is moving," the doctor observed.
Then she checked my ovaries. That was uncomfortable. She moved the wand to the side and observed good old Right Ovary. That looked fine. Then she did the same with the left. Also fine.
It was over after that. She printed out some pictures and gave me a new due date.
The sad news is I won't find out the sex before we leave. I'll have one more appointment and then I have to wait.
I am not good with waiting.
But the baby is happy. And that's all that matters.