the power of the pager

beep beep beep.

Anyone married to a spouse with a pager just shuddered.

I remember when my husband first received his pager in Medical school. I thought it was kind of cool when it first went off. It made the idea that he was one day going to be a real doctor more of a reality. If he didn't feel important wearing it, at least I felt important for him.

The novelty has long since worn off.

And while hate is a very strong word, and my mom told me never to use it, I'm pretty sure I hate my husband's pager.

This obnoxious, electronic, little piece of plastic that has so much control over our lives.

What I dislike the most is the unpredictability. I don't want to not include my hubby in my plans for the day/evening. But at the same time, I don't want to make plans, only to be disappointed when the darn thing goes off and he has to head to the hospital.

Inevitably I end up planning nothing for the days he's on call, yet secretly hoping that maybe we could do such and such if he doesn't get paged. And then when he does get called in, I'm disappointed that my secret plans were ruined.

It's Murphy's law: If we do make tentative plans, he will get paged and have to head to the hospital. If we don't make any plans, or if I make plans to do something without him, chances are he'll have a quiet day at home.

And did I mention that the Doctor's pager seems to be about 5 decibels louder than any one else's pager? Seriously. As if it wasn't ornery enough in its simple existence, it feels the need to announce its importance to our entire neighborhood with every high pitched bleep.

I knew when my hubby started out in medicine that a pager would be a part of lives. I just think that I had glamourized it in my head. You know, getting paged and having to race off to the hospital to save someone's life. But the pager goes off for many many different reasons when you're on call for the entire province. And none of these reasons seem to phase my hubby. Like a lot of things in this adventure known as residency, I didn't really know what we were in for. And like always, the Doctor is amazingly more accepting and tolerant of the annoyances in our life.

I'm struggling to come to terms with the existence of the pager in our lives, knowing that this small square monstrosity is stuck with us for a while. But it's difficult. Perhaps as the Doctor's call load lightens a little bit, and the high pitched bleeping becomes less frequent, I'll be better able to cope.

Or maybe once these crazy pregnancy hormones disappear I'll just be better able to cope. period.

i want my mom

This week has been a bit of a tough one.

I'm just about 34 weeks pregnant and have started nesting like a madwoman. My house never seems to be clean enough or organized enough. We are in the middle of getting a 'big girl' room ready for the Bean, and nothing seems to be happening quickly enough for me.

The Doctor just had 5 days off over Easter and so we got the Bean's new room painted (twice, since we didn't like the first colour). Her 'big girl' bed and dresser arrived and the hubby put those together. the mattress is on the bed, sheets are washed and ready to go.

And still I panic.

I want everything done now. I want the shelves to be hung, the toy box to be built, the little details finished. I want the Bean to be transitioned into her new room, well before her sibling arrives to take over her current space.

Oh I realize that none of this matters. Really. The baby could arrive tomorrow (please don't) and we'd be "fine".

But I am still freaking out.

The Doctor is working on a big presentation that he has to give at grand rounds next week, and so I am trying to get as much (okay, everything) done without him. The Bean is of course trying to be "helpful" and so every task seems to take nine times as long as it should.

And all this unnecessary stressing makes me want my mom.

I lay in bed last night after an exhausting day of getting lots done, yet feeling as though nothing got done (my to-do list obviously over-ambitious) and I cried. Hubby asked me what was wrong and like a 5-year old, I blurted "I miss my mom".

I'll blame it on my hormones. Because I can.

You see, my mom is amazing. She is like a cross between Mike Holmes and Debbie Travis. If she were here, the Bean's room would be done. The shelves that I don't know how to hang would be up on the wall. The toy box that I will not attempt to put together on my own would now be built. My floors would be washed. She would confirm my wall decor choices.

And I would be calm.

Because my mom is a get-er-done kind of woman. I on the other hand, am a terrible self-motivator and tend to get overwhelmed when looking at my long list of things to accomplish. But I know if my mom was here she'd say "let's get this done" and we would.

It is (hormonal) times like these that I am reminded yet again that living so far away from your family sucks. In all honesty, it is not only my mom that I miss. Not only her that I want near me. I have a whole slew of talented and hard working family members that would be here in an instant if we lived close and I were to call them up and ask.

So for now, I'm trying to be patient. I'm waiting until after next Wednesday, when the Doctor will be finished his presentation. And then I have a rather large honey-do list for him.

And I'm going to visit my family. This weekend the Bean and I will take what is probably the last flight just the two of us, and spend four days with my mom and dad and sister. While nothing will be accomplished to help prepare for this baby, I know that just being with my mom and talking things through will help.

And hopefully, when I return home I'll be calmer and less stressed about what needs to get done.

But I'll still miss my mom.

me and my momma
february 2012