Tuesday I had a Dr. appointment that included the always beloved glucose test. This meant I had to be in the office by 8am. The hubs was out of town and my sitter was unavailable, which left me with two little monkeys and no where for them to go. After a little thought, I was content with my dilemma-maybe even a little excited for them to come to the doctor with me. They had never been, and I do want them to feel involved in this pregnancy, to hear the heartbeat, and in some way connect with this little being in my belly.
We pile into the car and get ourselves to my appointment, on time. So far, so good. We walk down the hall to the lab where I am administered my dose of deliciousness. Linley is strapped in her stroller, happily writing on her Magna Doodle. Ryder is sitting in a seat adjacent to her, cheerfully doing the same. As I chug down my orange liquid sugar, I wonder why I have neglected taking them sooner. They are in heaven. All is well. I feel guilty. What kind of mother deprives her children of the opportunity to become involved in Miss Unborn Baby?
Drink is gone and I am told to return by 9:09 am. With a lingering, unspoken, "or else" at the end. No prob. One hour.
On our way back to the waiting room, Ryder proclaims that he, "Needs to go poop. RIGHT NOW!!" Not a big deal, except that this 4-year old enjoys his toilet time. As in, will not be rushed. I have a couple minutes before the nurse will call me back, so I schlep us all into the bathroom so Ryder can do his business. 5 minutes pass. I ask him if he is almost done. "No." I ask him to please hurry. 3 more minutes pass. Again question his progress. "I will be done when I am done." Got it. 2 more minutes. "Listen Ryder, we need to be done now. The doctor will be waiting." His response, "I will be done when I am done. Leave me alone." 2 more minutes and mission is accomplished. Fabulous. As we walk back to the waiting room, my name is called. Perfect timing. Deep breath. All is still well.
I drop our stuff off in my exam room where I am handed the pee cup and again, schlep the kids into the bathroom. Ryder turns to face the wall. Linley, of course watches intensely. Then says, "Mommy, I need to pee in a cup, too."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do," said like a true 16-year old stuck in a 2-year old's body.
Peeing completed, cup top screwed on, Linley makes her next request. "Then let me hold your pee." I give it to her, pleased with our compromise, and rush back to the room. Don't judge me. Sometimes the fastest solution outweighs the smarter solution.
Nurse takes my blood pressure. Kids are intrigued. Again, all is well. Then the nurse leaves, and a barrage of questions follow. Ryder begins, "Mommy, what is that?"
Me: "What is what?"
Ryder: "That picture on the wall. Of a girl's butt. What is it there for?"
Seriously? Of course there are vagina illustrations all over the place. Why did he have to notice them, and understand them???
Me: "This doctor helps mommies when their bums have owies." Look, I realize not the greatest response, but I was in a slight panic mode.
Ryder: "So does your bum have owies?" Yes, I set myself up for that.
Me: "No, this doctor also helps mommies that have babies in their tummy." He's satisfied. Piece of cake. Then Linley chimes in, and completely disgusted said, "Mommy, whyis there a baby coming out of her bum?"
Really? You are 2. Why are you asking me this?
Me: "That is how babies come out. Who wants to play I spy??" I am not prepared for the next question. I do not want to scar them for life when they learn that yes, they came out of mommies bum. "I spy" piques their interest, and all vagina questions cease. Phew.
5 minutes later the doctor walks in, which was perfect timing, because nearly all objects in the room had been spied and we were only moments away from treading back to vaginas.
Doctor pulls out fetal monitor. The part I have been waiting for. Excitedly I ask the kids to listen and tell me what animal they think the baby's heart beat sounds like. Linley is silent. Bored? Doesn't matter. Heartbeat found. I ask Ryder what it sounds like. Silence. Prodding him, "Does it sound like horses running??" He looks at me like I am a moron. "No mom, it sounds like farting." Of course, what else? We giggle and move on. A few measurements later we are done.
Rush back to the lab, where we arrive at 9:04. Good. Don't need to find out what "or else" means. I tell the kids to stay in their seats, because the lady is going to take out my blood and it is gross. Bad move. Both kids insist they watch. On my lap. Not emotionally prepared to battle, I concede. They are enthralled. I am disturbed, but the appointment is done. We survived. While getting our coats, the kids run up to the lady in the lab and ask if they can take each take a needle home, "because we like to play with needles."
Fine. Forget it. All guilt is gone. I realize I was a genius to go this long without having my sweet children accompany me to the doctor. What was I thinking?
Now it's your turn. Tell us one of your horrific or hilarious stories from the OB. Link back to your post on Mr. Linky. I could use a good laugh. We all could, right?