Monday, April 6, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
April Fool's & Twins ~
(several years ago)
We sat down on the couch. I started to cry. Cry might not really convey what I was doing … maybe the right word is “sob”. No … not really … I started to “wail” … yes, that’s it, I started to wail. I buried my face in my husband’s shirt and said those two little words that were sure to make his testicles shrink to the size of peas, “I’m pregnant”. I followed that up with a lot of, “this is the worst thing ever” and “I don’t want to be pregnant” and “goddamn, this is the worst thing ever”.
Trust me, whenever you say, “this is the worst thing ever”, it’s not.
After much consoling, I regained what was left of my dignity and we did what everyone else does, called the doctor.
Dr. Steve was a friend of ours. His daughter and our daughter had been in preschool together for two years and had continued on through third grade together. You might think it’s strange to have a close friend as your gynecologist, and it is … really strange … but once he swabs your vagina the first time and squeezes your boobs, it’s really all downhill from there. It’s as close to “swinging” as I’ve ever gotten.
I made the appointment with Dr. Steve’s office. He had delivered my first two sons and had compassionately helped me through the loss of another. His nurse, Jennifer, was a peach and when I spoke to her, I could tell she was authentically excited for us.
Finally, the day arrived and I headed out to my appointment. My daughter wanted to go out for breakfast and that sounded great, so I arranged for the nanny, Heather, to meet us and take the daughter so I could go to the appointment. We had a delicious breakfast, but when we went back to the car, it wouldn’t start. The battery was dead. Already nervous, I shifted into anxious panic.
Heather showed up right on time. She delivered me to Dr. Steve and I called for Hubs to pick me up there. Then we would deal with the car. After three children, having him there with me for the first appointment, when all you do is pee in the cup and find out that yes, your life is about to become more complicated, wasn’t really necessary for me.
I peed and what do you know ~ pregnant. Hooray. I went back and he felt my tummy and laughed hysterically. Dr. Steve’s daughter is an only child. This is good for Dr. Steve because that means his Porche is not only gorgeous, it’s practical.
He measures and giggles and tells me about the new tractor he’s going to buy with my co-pays. I snarl and plot ungodly ways to castrate my husband.
Dr. Steve thinks I may be about 15 weeks along and wants to do an ultrasound since there’s an opening and it’s across the hall. I pinch the paper robe behind my ass and slip across the hall, practically unnoticed by the throng of women sitting a few yards away. Awesome.
Lisa, who’s performed probably 15 ultrasounds on me, is on duty. Good news. I like her. I lay back on the table and she splooges her icy cold gel onto my belly that makes me seize up like I’ve been electrocuted. She rolls it around and around and around. She makes her bizarre sounds, “hmmmmm”, “mmmmmmumumum”, “uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”, and rolls it around some more.
Then she says, “Damn, you’re having twins!”
I say, “Yhea, whatever.”
She says, “Really!”
I say, “Okay … he’s not getting me today. Forget it.”
She says, “Seriously, Ann, you’re having twins.”
I lay there pretending to inspect my nails, pursing my lips and giving every outward signal I could that Dr. Steve was not going to nail me on April Fool’s Day again. Nope.
“Ann, sit up and look at this.”
I sat up and looked at the black and white screen … hell, she could have told me it was 15 kittens and I could have seen it, just like cloud animals, and the Virgin Mary.
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
She was showing signs of serious frustration, which made me a bit worried. I looked a little closer. I could see ‘em. Right there on the screen, head … butt, head … butt.
“Oh Damn! Oh Damn! Oh Damn!”
I lay back down. I hyperventilated. She helped me up.
“I have an idea”, she says. “Let’s tell Dr. Steve that you’re having triplets. That will be so funny. You’ll get him good today.”
I would have said, “Okay”, but my brain had turned to oatmeal.
I go back across the hall into my little room not caring who saw my ass. I hear Dr. Steve outside the door. He chuckles and moves some paper and mutters, “yhea, right, they’re not getting me today.”
He comes in and says, “So you’re having triplets.”
I said nothing.
He starts throwing papers from my clipboard into the trash. Then he stops. He looks at me. He looks at the two sets of pictures stapled to the front of the file. He sits down on his little stool and looks again. Then he says this, “Holy crap, Ann, you’re having twins.” Then he put his head down on the counter. Okay ~ even if you know the guy, this is not what you want from your health care provider.
He turns to me and asks where Hubs is. I tell him that I think he’s out in the waiting room waiting for me.
“Want me to go get him?” I asked.
“Hell no. I’m going in my office and lock the door.”
Great.
I take my little green and white checkout paper and head towards the front. Hubs is there and comes over to wait with me. I said nothing. I handed my paper to Brandy who looks at it and then gives me that big, wide-eyed, what-the-hell look. I give her a shut-the-hell-up look. She gets busy processing me for my next appointment.
Julie walks behind Brandy’s chair and of course has to look over to see what’s going on. She looks up with a big smile and the loudest voice in the history of medical checkout and says, “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE HAVING TWINS?” I look at Hubs. He looks at me. We look at her. Brandy elbows her in the gut. I nod yes. He turns white as a sheet. Somebody else yells, “TWINS!” Brandy asks Hubs if he needs CPR. He replies that he wants a DNA test. One of my students walks in. Hugs all around.
We walk to the car without saying a word. My nerves are “tore up”, as they say in North Carolina. I get into the car thinking about my job and about the little house we live in and that everything in my life is suddenly and drastically different. I look at Hubs waiting for some words or sign that everything is going to be all right … that this is a good thing … that everything will be fine because we have each other.
He looks at me, smiles strangely and says, “This isn’t an April Fool’s joke is it?”
We sat down on the couch. I started to cry. Cry might not really convey what I was doing … maybe the right word is “sob”. No … not really … I started to “wail” … yes, that’s it, I started to wail. I buried my face in my husband’s shirt and said those two little words that were sure to make his testicles shrink to the size of peas, “I’m pregnant”. I followed that up with a lot of, “this is the worst thing ever” and “I don’t want to be pregnant” and “goddamn, this is the worst thing ever”.
Trust me, whenever you say, “this is the worst thing ever”, it’s not.
After much consoling, I regained what was left of my dignity and we did what everyone else does, called the doctor.
Dr. Steve was a friend of ours. His daughter and our daughter had been in preschool together for two years and had continued on through third grade together. You might think it’s strange to have a close friend as your gynecologist, and it is … really strange … but once he swabs your vagina the first time and squeezes your boobs, it’s really all downhill from there. It’s as close to “swinging” as I’ve ever gotten.
I made the appointment with Dr. Steve’s office. He had delivered my first two sons and had compassionately helped me through the loss of another. His nurse, Jennifer, was a peach and when I spoke to her, I could tell she was authentically excited for us.
Finally, the day arrived and I headed out to my appointment. My daughter wanted to go out for breakfast and that sounded great, so I arranged for the nanny, Heather, to meet us and take the daughter so I could go to the appointment. We had a delicious breakfast, but when we went back to the car, it wouldn’t start. The battery was dead. Already nervous, I shifted into anxious panic.
Heather showed up right on time. She delivered me to Dr. Steve and I called for Hubs to pick me up there. Then we would deal with the car. After three children, having him there with me for the first appointment, when all you do is pee in the cup and find out that yes, your life is about to become more complicated, wasn’t really necessary for me.
I peed and what do you know ~ pregnant. Hooray. I went back and he felt my tummy and laughed hysterically. Dr. Steve’s daughter is an only child. This is good for Dr. Steve because that means his Porche is not only gorgeous, it’s practical.
He measures and giggles and tells me about the new tractor he’s going to buy with my co-pays. I snarl and plot ungodly ways to castrate my husband.
Dr. Steve thinks I may be about 15 weeks along and wants to do an ultrasound since there’s an opening and it’s across the hall. I pinch the paper robe behind my ass and slip across the hall, practically unnoticed by the throng of women sitting a few yards away. Awesome.
Lisa, who’s performed probably 15 ultrasounds on me, is on duty. Good news. I like her. I lay back on the table and she splooges her icy cold gel onto my belly that makes me seize up like I’ve been electrocuted. She rolls it around and around and around. She makes her bizarre sounds, “hmmmmm”, “mmmmmmumumum”, “uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”, and rolls it around some more.
Then she says, “Damn, you’re having twins!”
I say, “Yhea, whatever.”
She says, “Really!”
I say, “Okay … he’s not getting me today. Forget it.”
She says, “Seriously, Ann, you’re having twins.”
I lay there pretending to inspect my nails, pursing my lips and giving every outward signal I could that Dr. Steve was not going to nail me on April Fool’s Day again. Nope.
“Ann, sit up and look at this.”
I sat up and looked at the black and white screen … hell, she could have told me it was 15 kittens and I could have seen it, just like cloud animals, and the Virgin Mary.
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
She was showing signs of serious frustration, which made me a bit worried. I looked a little closer. I could see ‘em. Right there on the screen, head … butt, head … butt.
“Oh Damn! Oh Damn! Oh Damn!”
I lay back down. I hyperventilated. She helped me up.
“I have an idea”, she says. “Let’s tell Dr. Steve that you’re having triplets. That will be so funny. You’ll get him good today.”
I would have said, “Okay”, but my brain had turned to oatmeal.
I go back across the hall into my little room not caring who saw my ass. I hear Dr. Steve outside the door. He chuckles and moves some paper and mutters, “yhea, right, they’re not getting me today.”
He comes in and says, “So you’re having triplets.”
I said nothing.
He starts throwing papers from my clipboard into the trash. Then he stops. He looks at me. He looks at the two sets of pictures stapled to the front of the file. He sits down on his little stool and looks again. Then he says this, “Holy crap, Ann, you’re having twins.” Then he put his head down on the counter. Okay ~ even if you know the guy, this is not what you want from your health care provider.
He turns to me and asks where Hubs is. I tell him that I think he’s out in the waiting room waiting for me.
“Want me to go get him?” I asked.
“Hell no. I’m going in my office and lock the door.”
Great.
I take my little green and white checkout paper and head towards the front. Hubs is there and comes over to wait with me. I said nothing. I handed my paper to Brandy who looks at it and then gives me that big, wide-eyed, what-the-hell look. I give her a shut-the-hell-up look. She gets busy processing me for my next appointment.
Julie walks behind Brandy’s chair and of course has to look over to see what’s going on. She looks up with a big smile and the loudest voice in the history of medical checkout and says, “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE HAVING TWINS?” I look at Hubs. He looks at me. We look at her. Brandy elbows her in the gut. I nod yes. He turns white as a sheet. Somebody else yells, “TWINS!” Brandy asks Hubs if he needs CPR. He replies that he wants a DNA test. One of my students walks in. Hugs all around.
We walk to the car without saying a word. My nerves are “tore up”, as they say in North Carolina. I get into the car thinking about my job and about the little house we live in and that everything in my life is suddenly and drastically different. I look at Hubs waiting for some words or sign that everything is going to be all right … that this is a good thing … that everything will be fine because we have each other.
He looks at me, smiles strangely and says, “This isn’t an April Fool’s joke is it?”
Nope, no joke ~
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