I promised you a sneak peek before the year was out. So as you prepare to bid adieu to another year, take a brief look back. I’m really hoping you’ll want to come along with me on this wild ride they call parenthood – complete with two tiny twins: Search and Destroy.
Does this make you want to read more?
Kisses and winecones – I’ll see you on the flip side.
**********
TINY. A book.
Get naked and wait.
They make everyone undress for these appointments – they don’t even ask why you’re there.
“Go ahead and undress. Here’s the flimsy piece of paper we’re going to call a ‘drape.’ Wrap it around you; it’ll rip right off when you try and sit back down. The doctor will be in to see you shortly (in about 30 minutes).
Reader’s Digest magazines from 1994, last summer’s issue of ‘O” and several copies of AARP are right over there on the other side of the room – just outside of your reach. I’m sure you’ll be too nervous that the moment you bare your ass to learn about the newfangled ‘information superhighway’ that is the next big thing, the doctor will finally walk in.
I’ll just go ahead and turn the thermometer down to arctic while you wait. Your butt is bare, the front is going to rip anyway, so why not just help the inevitable along.”
I was sitting on the pink metal chair staring at the bland watercolor painting of daisies, clutching my drape around me. I felt rather vulnerable sitting completely naked in the drafty exam room. At this stage in time I still had a semblance of modesty about my person.
After what seemed like eons, Dr. Bhalala swooped in. She glanced at my chart and smirked at me.
“My husband and I want to have a baby,” I declared. We were ready to start the journey toward the next generation.
Dr. Bhalala smiled again. “Simple. Just stop taking the pills.”
“That’s it?” If it’s that simple, why am I naked? (Little did I know how much time I was about to spend stripping down for strangers…)
“That’s it. I’ll see you in November.” She plonked my chart in the file outside the exam room door and headed down the hall.
It was so simple. I don’t know why I even thought I should go to the doctor. Starting a family was the most natural thing in the world. Just do it!
I flounced into the house, grinning from ear to ear. “So,” I called (hoping my husband was actually home and hearing this) as I flopped myself onto the couch, “You wanna have a baby?”
“Right now?” he asked, appearing at the top of the stairs.
Why not? What warm-blooded male isn’t eager to start practicing the baby making with an eager wife? Because really, practice makes perfect. And I was in a very good (read ready to practice) mood.
It was so simple. It was all going according to plan… (Can you guess where this is headed?)
Yeah yeah yeah. That shit’s gonna be good.
Pingback: The Secret Society of Prematurity | Stream of the Conscious