What it’s like to get an IUD with a toddler sitting on your chest…

he wasn’t wearing fatigues and no choking was invovled, but this is what my exam experience looked like…

Potamus walked proudly into the doctor office with me, but as soon as we started heading back to the room he began having a meltdown. He completely lost it, sobbing uncontrollably, when the nurse put the blood pressure cuff on my arm. No amount of cajoling him (‘hey, it’s like your doctor kit at grammy’s house!’) got him to calm down. So he sat facing me all snuggled in on my chest. The nurse asked, (naively in my opinion) if I thought he’d go with one of the nurses while I got my procedure done. Hardly, my friend, hardly. But never worry, I, the ever resourceful mother, had planned to either let him sit on my chest, or was prepared for him to sob on the floor while the procedure happened.

Thank God the latter didn’t happen, because it turned out to be a 30 minute ordeal.

Perhaps I should have gotten a ‘babysitter’ (aka asked MIL to do it), but she’s watching him tomorrow for a few hours, and watched him on Tuesday. Plus, I’m a little bit masochistic or martyrish in that way. Like I get special brownie points for making a doctor visit even harder, more painful, then just having a copper T shoved into my cervix. But also, Potamus wasn’t feeling well today, and he’s coming off his first four full days at daycare this week, and I thought it’d be good for him to just spend some more time with me.

And also, it’s a good reminder of why I’m in the office. To prevent having to go to the doctor toting two tots together (say that twelve times fast).

The doctor seemed apprehensive of my plan, but Handy Manny on my smartphone is a pretty sure bet. And he doesn’t weigh more than 30 lbs, so I dropped trou, scooted my bum to the end of the table and hoisted Potamus up onto the top of my belly, lower part of my chest. With my feet in the stirrups, and my kids feet in my face, straddling me, and my smartphone nestled under my chin, I realized that yoga is possibly the best preparation for such an awkward experience.

I barely even felt the procedure, though the doctor managed to horrify me with some crime scene cleanup since she had “hit a blood vessel.” Nothing like gushing all over your doctor’s shiny clean floor. And the whole while she kept asking if I was doing okay and if I felt any cramping. I didn’t. Probably because a 30 lb toddler had me in a body slam choke-hold on the exam table. Also, I have a high pain tolerance. And a good grasp of breathing and relaxation techniques. Also, it wasn’t quite like labor, ya know?

 

Any awkward experiences that have been made even MORE awkward with your kid present?

Weaning Funnies

For the most part, my in-laws are on-board with this whole breastfeeding until whenever idea, but sometimes even their comfort zone is stretched. Like last night, when we were out to dinner at the fancy Columbia Tower Club (read, tallest building in Seattle). All of us were fancified in our finest Christmas garb, and dinner started out past Potamus’ early bedtime. He was holding up like  champ, mugging for photos and throwing Chex all over the fine carpetting, when he started to get a little cranky. Boof had been feeding him some asparagus, but he looked tired and maybe like he wanted a nursing snack, so I threw my hooter-hider on and hoisted him into my lap (after quickly shovelling the bison steak and mashed potatoes into my mouth, YUM!). After going through the routine of unhooking the nursing bra and whipping it out, while struggling to hold his wiggly 1 year old legs, I looked down to see his smiling face happily munching on asparagus and totally ignoring my exposed breast. With a laugh I squeeled, “ahaha, he’s eating asparagus under there!” The whole table giggled, too, and then they said “well, I guess it’s about time to wean, eh?” To which, I agreed.

But later, it got  me thinking, about how the general public views weaning. Because, truthfully the weaning process was begun a few months ago. At this point he’s down to a few times at night and maybe, maybe once during the day, if I am home, and we’re going down for a nap. But weaning is a relationship, ESPECIALLY since young Potamus doesn’t take liquid in any other form, that I’m not about to cut cold turkey. And Boof is even protective of my time with Potamus, acknowledging that it is the quickest, most effective, way of calming a fussy tired cranky needy sad little growing baby. The incident was funny, even downright hilarious, and there is truth to the whole weaning comment, but I wish that overall people saw weaning as a process and not a light switch to be turned off when one leaves the room.

Any funny weaning stories that you might have? Share here!