When we found out we were having Baby K, we thought - okay, life change, but not huge. We are already in full parent mode. Our stairs are gated. Our DVR is full of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Our carpet is littered with tiny princess shoes and halves of crayons. We haven't slept more than four straight hours since 2012. Bring it on, new baby. This was, of course, a wildly inaccurate assumption and one to two threw us for a loop we never, ever saw coming.
So, when we found out we were expecting BB#3 (or "Jellybean" as B refers to him/her), we took a deep breath, squared our shoulders, and laughed hysterically. Like evil villain in an insane asylum crazy laughter. Because, we said, how much more crazy could we get? We haven't been on time for something since 2011. I routinely find my cell phone in the fridge and the peanut butter in my purse. The dogs are called the girls names and the girls are called the dogs names, and, out of the four, usually half of them are sticky at all times.
This whole parents of three, though, really hit home at our first ultrasound. Due to the icepocalypse that wasn't and some scheduling conflicts with RB, we ended up taking both girls to the doctor's with us to meet BB#3. The first two times I had done this, it had been a beautiful thing - just RB and me, hearing that miraculous heartbeat, shedding some tears, absorbing every minute of this precious new life. As a parent of three though...
It takes us 15 minutes even to get into the ultrasound room. B wants to be the line leader but has no idea where she is going so she keeps inadvertently opening doors of half dressed women while simultaneously RB dies of embarrassment and ushers her onto the right path. I have to get weighed three different times because, unknowingly the first two times, baby K is putting a little baby paw (and all her little baby weight) onto the scale while trying to climb up my leg. Everyone in the entire practice knows we are there because not only did B announce her arrival, but she asked great questions while in the lobby about other people's reproductive choices and made wildly inappropriate though mostly accurate comments on breast size.
By the time we even enter the room, I am exhausted. I am greeted by an ultra peppy ultrasound tech who, at most, is 14. She keeps calling me ma'am and saying "Aren't WE so excited today?" "Don't WE just love doctor's appointments?" I am not sure who this "we" she is talking about is exactly. Part of our "we" is having a nervous breakdown because we aren't letting her climb a lamp and another part is googling Clemson's odds in the National Championship because "there is nothing going on right now - she is setting up!" So, I am not sensing a whole lot of excitement and advert enthusiasm from this "we."
But I smile that fake smile of an exhausted mom, and say, "Of course WE are!" Then it is time for the big show. The tech is setup. B has a big sister place of honor in a chair right in front of the tv. I am starting to feel those old emotions, bracing myself for that first sweet heartbeat. And then I feel it. A tiny little fist, insistent and urgent, pawing at my chest. I look down to see Baby K, half in RB's lap and the rest of her, Gumby stretched out towards me, letting me know she needs to nurse. Right. This. Minute. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch RB pushing her towards me slowly. Fine. Whatever keeps her quiet.
So, now here I am, lying on a table waiting for that first uncomfortable, internal ultrasound, trying not to give into my incessant nausea, and a 13 month year old sprawled across my chest, nursing happily. I look over at RB who smiles and says "Thanks. Now I can really focus!" And I don't kill him, which I consider a clear example of how parenthood makes you more patient.
And just as I think, "Okay, we are all in our places. Let's see the baby!" B, in awe, begins firing questions and commentary at the poor tech.
"Are there two? I want two in there."
"How did the baby get in there? How did you get a CAMERA in there?"
"How do you know that baby is my daddy's? Does it have a tag?"
"Why does it not look like a baby?"
"Are you sure you are looking at the baby?"
"I don't think that is the baby."
"Why is the baby a circle?"
"I like the name Dinosaur. We should name the baby Dinosaur."
The tech is doing her best to keep at her task while I am frantically answering B. "God gave us the baby and told Daddy it was his and also gave us free will to make technology and PLEASE JUST LOOK AT THE SCREEN QUIETLY."
All is still quiet on the RB front, who is looking at the screen with the awe and wonderment of a first time dad. And once again, no violence came to him.
And then it is over. I missed it. I faintly remember a small blurb on the screen but I was looking over the head of my soon to be middle child and couldn't quite here the heartbeat because of the questions of my first born. I missed it.
The tech smiles, pats Baby K on the head, and tells me sweetly whenever I am done nursing we can get up and leave. "Take your time. I am sure it is nice to have some downtime."
You keep using that word... I do not think it means what you think it does.
So as this "downtime" winds down, I am biting back tears because I missed it and B is still asking questions and K is still eating and it is chaos. Total chaos. And the ultra sound tech stops before she leaves, hands B an ultrasound picture, and says "Here is a special one just for big sister."
For the first time since we entered the room, it is completely silent. B stares at in her hands, big eyed, all smiles. "Momma, this is my baby. I am the big sister. I love the baby."
And I remember that this is what it felt like the first time with both B and K. Knowing that our hearts were growing exponentially. That more and more love awaited us. That joy and possibility were on the near horizon promising us moments sweeter than any we had ever known. My heart felt instantly more full and my exhaustion and anxiety turned to sweet comfort and pure bliss.
And then baby K karate flung herself out of my lap, knocking over the lamp she had been eyeing all day with precision. And B yelled loud enough for the whole office to hear "WELL IF IT IS NOT TWO IT BETTER BE A GIRL. AND BETTER NOT TAKE MY TOYS." And I looked over at RB who smiled, and said, "What are you thinking about making for dinner?" And I had to go back into the office after realizing I forgot to schedule my next appointment for BB#3.
And thought, yep, this was life with three.
 |
| Adding another monkey to this circus, August 2017 |
