Today is the day I knew I would be pregnant for the last time. It’s Leah, Anon and our two children Baby and WeeBear. That’s all she wrote.
I was contemplating the options – have another baby right away, wait a few years and have one late, take the two and move out – and all of them in my mind were both real possibilities and totally absurd. So I floated in my ever frequented limbo trusting that when the time came for me to know, I would know.
And oh how I love a good sign. Waiting for a sign, and then waiting for another sign to confirm the sign. I do enjoy playing this game because it makes my life interesting and keeps me dreamy and childlike. The best part about it is the fact that it’s all happening safely in my head – not measured against normal standards of living where it could be so easily dismissed as the antics of your everyday loon.
In any case, today I had one of the worst afternoons in my life and in the middle of the spiraling disaster I got my beloved sign.
Baby had a doctor’s appointment at 3pm this afternoon and I had my mom-plan ready to go. We would get out early, have an exhausting blast so he could take an early nap and we could be out the door by 2. Two years of mothering would forebode at least a minor disaster but I was optimistic. . .and slightly cocky having ‘covered all my bases’.
Not surprisingly and immediately the first part of my plan went awry. Baby didn’t get an early nap so I would have to wake him up from his nap prematurely, swoop him out of bed and throw him in the car in a hurry. I was balancing Baby getting as much time to sleep as possible, while also making it to the appointment on time. I knew this updated plan was yet another mistake when I walked into Baby’s room to wake him and he started to cry. The term “never wake a sleeping baby” is not just advice, it’s law.
Our house is about an hour away from the doctor’s office and traffic was a nightmare. At 3:15 I was right in the belly of the beast (AKA downtown Chicago). I realized I missed the window to casually walk into the doctor’s appointment pretending I wasn’t that late, so like a good grown-up I called the office and asked if they would still see Baby if I showed up at 3:30 instead of 3. It was ambitious but I took a blind shot – yes, I was still in traffic but I was also too close to go down without a fight. To my delight the lady at the front office was very kind and told me to skip the dungeon parking structure, grab valet at the front door and hurry. The doctor would still see Baby at 3:30.
I pulled up to what I thought was valet and sat in my car confused and frustrated for about 5 minutes. How do you valet? I wondered. I was parked behind a row of empty cars and saw no attendant or direction on where to go. Right before I was about to give up and brave the parking structure instead, a young man came out of the building handing out small tickets to a few cars across the street and I rolled down my window and asked for guidance.
“I’ll take care of you right here ma’am” he responded and handed me the golden ticket.
It was 3:24. I thanked him, jumped out of the car, grabbed Baby and bolted to the door as fast as a 7 month pregnant lady holding a 30lb toddler can bolt. As I ran to check in at the lower level lobby the lady at the front desk gave me a worried look “Ohh. . .” she spoke slowly “your appointment was at 3.”
“Yes,” I responded panting “The doctor said she would still see my son if we made it by 3:30”
She was nice enough to perk up and hurriedly hand me a visitor’s pass and told me to go to the next floor. Me and Baby ran to the elevator and as soon as the doors opened my phone rang – it was the doctor’s receptionist. At 3:28 I answered the phone just as I stepped my foot into the elevator and pushed the button.
“I’m in the elevator right now”
“Mrs. J, I’m so sorry but the doctor just got a call from her nanny and she has to leave right now, it’s a family emergency. I’m so sorry. We really wanted to wait for you but she is walking out of the door as we speak, it was an emergency.”
I couldn’t believe it. I was standing in the lobby, sweaty and panting at 3:29 and I missed the doctor by a hair. It was so uncanny, I was more amused than angry. How can this be my luck today? I wondered.
I told the lady on the phone it was fine, it was a long shot anyways. I apologized for being late and hung up the phone. Me and Baby went into the restroom and I felt like I should break down and cry, but I had no desire to. I was too tired for drama so we turned around and left. On the way to the car I bought Baby a cookie as a peace offering for what was to come. . . another hour and a half in traffic on the way home. My tactic was simple, I kept giving him small pieces of the cookie to try and keep him happy and munching on sugar as long as possible. When I handed over the last piece I thought “here we go” and soon after Baby yelped
“I want to stand up out the car. Open the door! I can’t stand up!!!”
And then he let out a wail that lasted the rest of the ride home. For over an hour Baby screamed so loud and for so long I actually got a headache. I was starving whilst pregnant, holding my permanently full bladder and stuck in traffic. Thirty minutes into the drive, listening to Baby scream and my stomach growl, I started to feel painful baby kicks coming from my abdomen and it suddenly dawned on me that I had reached my limit – as a mother, a wife, and a Leah.
There were many things I wanted to do at that moment. Park the car and scream in Baby’s face like a drill sergeant. Call Anon and weep uncontrollably. Bang my head against the steering wheel until I went bloody or unconscious. Laugh like a physced maniac. I fantasized about each of these scenarios and briefly visited the self pity museum because . . . why not? I thought about how much of myself I lost and how stupid it all seemed. “What is all of this for? I spent all day NOT going to a doctor’s appointment. I spend my whole life not getting much of anything done these days. What’s the point of it all?”
I really wanted to feel some way that fit but instead I just drove along, not angry, thrilled or anything in between. It seemed like none of it would change a thing anyway, or maybe I was just too overwhelmed to make yet another decision on anything.
I was both broken and strong at the same time; it was this recurring phenomenon of dual and intense emotions I often experience since becoming a mother. I knew I would make it home, pee, eat, and Baby would stop screaming no matter how bad it got or how weak I felt at that moment. I also knew that I was weak, shaken to my core, exhausted, resentful, and to my limit. I knew that today had to be one day down for the mom-with-young-kids phase of my life. Like the climax in the plot of this story, I am ready to at least see the finish line.
I’m sure there will still be plenty of hard days ahead but there is some comfort and gratitude in knowing that my family is complete. The warmth of it wrapped around my consciousness and gave me just a little more space to breathe. I’ll have all the stories of troublesome times and growth with no regrets for any of it. Turns out the sign that was “the worst day ever” was just what I needed to feel sane.