SURPRISE!

Do you like surprises? I like surprises. Monetary surprises are especially nice. Surprise parties can be fun. I do NOT, however, enjoy surprises when I am seated in the doctor’s office. I am distinctly lacking a sense of humor when I am dressed in a huge blue gown that seems to have a circus-tent-volume of fabric in the front and absolutely NONE in the back. Yet, surprised I was, in this very situation, just last week. There I sat, discussing certain issues with my G.P. when she suddenly, and without warning, hauled off and broadsided me with a sledgehammer. OK, she didn’t really do that but I was almost positive that my butt landed in a heap on the floor of her office. A quick assessment of the situation proved that I was still seated firmly on my chair. So it was much less a physical “dumping on the ass” than a verbal one. What, you may ask, would evoke such a response from the very core of my being? In the course of a discussion of … well, let’s say “feminine issues”… she proceeded to utter the words, “So, are you planning to have another baby?” WHAM… KA-POW… BAMMMM … Elaine’s down for the count, folks! “Ex-cuse me?!” says I. “Another baby” says she. OK who stole my doctor and replaced her with THIS piece of work? Here is the rest of the conversation: Me: “Um… I’m 41” Dr: “Yes?” Me: “My daughters are 15 and 12” Dr: “Right” Thanks for the confirmation, toots. For a second I was convinced my brain had somehow leaked out my ear while I was on the examining table. Me: “I shut the factory down 10 years ago! No more production… ya know?” I didn’t really say that – I know the “big girl names” for things and can use them correctly – but I’m sure you all aren’t especially interested in my past medical procedures. By now, the doctor is staring at me and wondering if perhaps she needs to add a referral to a hearing specialist to my file. Then, she laid the mother of all surprises on the desk … “You’re still a young woman. Are you absolutely sure?” Is it inappropriate to kiss your doctor? I suppose it would be, wouldn’t it? Pushing aside the sudden and growing apprehension that my choice of birth control might not be nearly as permanent (or, heaven help me, EFFECTIVE) as I’d been led to believe, I told her that my husband and I had discussed this very issue at great length and had finally decided that the two children in the household were enough for both of us. We are happy with the family AS IS. After giving me a grin that equated to, “Are you sure sure sure?”, we pressed on with our conversation. On the way home in the car, I conveyed the details of the appointment to my husband. By the expression on his face, I couldn’t quite determine if he was going to smile, laugh or puke. I scooted a little closer to the passenger door – just in case. Don’t get me wrong. I love babies. We both do. I loved being pregnant and was actually quite good at it. My friends hated me for having not one day of morning sickness or one minute of missed work. But jeeeeeeez… I AM 41, PEOPLE. I don’t even want a PUPPY because it’s too much extra work! Let’s compare: A puppy, I could put out in the yard to do its “business” or, at the very least, I could paper-train in some less than noticeable area of the house. A newborn makes a business of “business”… and where diapers are involved, there isn’t a single place you can go in the house where you DON’T know exactly what’s in ‘em … by odor alone! A puppy will sleep where and when it chooses, with absolutely no input or assistance from me. A newborn (judging by my first two) will NEVER sleep – in spite of any walking, strolling, bouncing, jiggling, singing, swaddling, swaying, cajoling, begging or pleading I might do to help the process along. A puppy’s playtime will be whenever I have time to throw a ball or squeak a toy. A newborn (judging by my first two) will determine that 3:24 a.m. is a mighty fine time to be wide awake and playing an enchanting game of “let’s stare endlessly at absolutely nothing and then projectile vomit”. WOOHOO! Leaving the house with a puppy will require a leash or harness and a pooper scooper of some kind. Leaving the house with a newborn will require bottles, diapers, wipes, creams, pacifiers, changes of clothes (they really are leaky little beings), stroller, car seat and, depending on the length of the outing, baby swing, bassinet and blankets and more! At some point, you seriously consider buying two of everything and pimpin’ out the family minivan as a nursery on wheels. A puppy will gnaw on the furniture. A newborn will gnaw on my nipples. ‘Nuff said. I admit that it’s comforting to know that we could have a baby if we really wanted to – or even a puppy for that matter. But all things considered, and after googling my contraception of choice, I am confidently 99.5-99.6% sure that I won’t be expecting any more surprises.