Yesterday was the day of my appointment to see the obstetrician. It was a significant day as I finally found out the date our baby son would be born after 36 weeks of waiting.
My appointment was booked for 10.10 a.m. and I woke to a grey, rainy morning from a light, grumpy sleep, exhausted as both my children had taken it in turns to wake in the night. My son arrived first complaining of a sore throat and wanting a cuddle. Cue the Calpol and Brett's exit to see the night out in Joshua's racing car bed followed by an hour or so attempting to get both Joshua and I back to sleep. I finally drifted off only to be awoken half an hour later by Grace bursting into the room having had a bad dream, insisting on a cuddle and not entertaining the thought of going back to her own bed. Two fitful hours sleep later and it was time to get up. I lay there for a moment looking at my sleepy children, trying to imagine how I would deal with the same scenario and a baby thrown into the mix...I greeted myself with a hard gulp and chose to leave the thought alone!
After dragging myself out of bed I dusted off the cobwebs with a hot shower whilst attempting to draw on the things I'd learned from my 'Buddhism for Mothers' book...'Realise you have the power to choose your emotional responses' I recounted... I took a few deep breaths and shook off the grumpiness that my lack of sleep was causing me, after all it wasn't my children's fault and choosing to be irritable was not going to help them or me.
The one good thing was that my parents had offered to take me to the hospital for my appointment so Mum could be an extra pair of ears for me as Brett was at work. Much to my relief they arrived early as Mum was keen to take Joshua to school - something she hadn't done before. They entered the house to a whirlwind of activity in the Goodyear household as I busily rushed around organising breakfast for Joshua, Grace and Lolita (Joshua's classmate who I take to school some mornings) whilst the children chatted excitedly, full of the joys of spring at the breakfast table.
Twenty five minutes later, coats on and bags and packed lunches in hand they left the house and I gratefully breathed in the silence as I closed the door behind them, before allowing myself some time for a calming camomile tea and bowl of cereal whilst catching up on a little Hollywood gossip on Daybreak.
By the time my parents arrived back, the breakfast dishes had been cleared and the kitchen and dining room had been restored to their previous tidy state. I ran upstairs to finish getting ready before we left for the hospital. I felt excited and full of anticipation as Dad dropped us off at the entrance and Mum and I rushed in looking a bit like tweedle dum and tweedle dee in our matchy matchy black outfits and blonde hair (purely an error on my behalf as I dressed hurriedly in one of the few outfits that seemed to fit me!).
We took our seats in the bustling waiting room and I was amused to see that most of the other heavily pregnant women there were wearing the same black uniform as myself, no doubt also drawing on an increasingly limited selection of flattering clothing. My name pinged up quickly on the large flatscreen and after taking my blood pressure I was ushered into a room with Mum at my side to meet the obstetrician. This was a different chap to the one I had met way back at my 21 week appointment and with a soft foreign accent I couldn't decipher he slowly ran through with me what would be involved during my c-section procedure. The good news was that he wasn't unduly worried by my lower than normal blood platelet count but said it would need closely monitoring nonetheless. He spent a good five to ten minutes riffling through my huge wad of disorganised looking notes from my previous pregnancies trying to search for the details of Grace's birth. He eventually gave up and it struck me how at odds this rather old-fashioned paper based filing system seemed in contrast to the glossy, modernness of the Pembury hospital. Where was his screen and online notes I wondered?
We followed with a quick scan of the baby and listened to the heartbeat before being sent to see Bernie the midwife to book in the baby's birth day. She handed over the piece of paper with the date on '11th December 2012'.... I stared at the date excitedly. 'This is it' I thought, although she did go on to say there was a small risk the date could change if they have a flood of emergencies. I am remaining hopeful though that is not the case and that 3 weeks today, I will be sat in my hospital bed with my family around me with my one day old baby in my arms....not long now.