June 12, 2009 at 5:53 am (Uncategorized)

I’m late posting today because I thought I was going to be able to regale you (I just spilt my late lunch right down myself… such a classy broad you’ve all gotten yourselves mixed up with here… what do I do? Suck my jacket? Lick my shirt?) on the subject of Secret Women’s Business. Except it’s no secret and I was going to be the only woman in the room. Yes, I was off for my long-awaited obs/gyn specialist appointment, armed with my temperature charts of the last five months and a freshly spruced bikini line. In fact, Sherie, my hilarious Chinese beautician and the biggest sadist this side of Shanghai, was just moving in for the kill when my phone rang. Ordinarily I wouldn’t think of answering in such circumstances, but as Llew was due to come to the appointment with me, I felt I had to take it. Sherie paused the torture while the conversation took place; when I got off the phone, she told me she didn’t want to risk frightening the person on the other end with my bloodcurdling screams (which she quite enjoys. I can see it in her eyes). “Thanks, Sherie. Mighty thoughtful of y-OOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!”

The upshot of the call was this: Dr F was called away and my appointment was canned. They rescheduled for next Tuesday, but I doubt Llew will be able to escape a second time – it’s not exactly convenient to his office, but unbelievably he’s in a Man Town-based management “off-site” today (and yesterday, which culminated in work drinks that went on until he stumbled in, waking yours truly, at 3:40 am this morning. I’d only just gotten back to sleep when the jackhammers started on the building site three metres from our bedroom window, so Llew wasn’t alone in wishing he’d stayed in the hotel with the rest of them) and so was on hand for the appointment. 

You do gear yourself up for these appointments, so it was a sour letdown to be bumped. Probably by some pregnant woman who’s gone into labour. Typical! And then just like that she’ll become exactly like the woman in the store where I met up with Llew. A tiny store. A tiny store with a really narrow path through it. But she decided she simply had to wheel her gargantuan pram for her multiple progeny from one end to the other the second Llew and I walked in. Because up until then, it was fine by the door. It was only when we stood gormlessly staring at a rack of clothes that she decided the pram needed to be at the other end. Stat. No, really. It was suddenly a matter of great urgency. She sprinted the length of the boutique like she thought we were about to make off with the thing.

“Excuse me,” she bellowed, pushing with all her might. We were in the way of her super pram. 

I leapt into a small opening between two tightly packed clothes racks and kind of pressed up against the glass like a hapless bug on the windscreen. Llew got shoved back against a table of jumpers on the other side of the small continent that was her baby mover. I lost sight of him for a minute there. But the main thing is the pram was okay. It made it! It wasn’t easy, and we’re not sure what it was worth, but it did indeed invade and then finally conquer the store. I peeled myself off the window, edged back into the store proper and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

That was when I realised I felt a little glum. Llew had to go back to the off-site and I had to make other arrangements seeing as my fertility appointment was a wash. I just stood there in the square watching Llew’s retreating form, wondering why I felt so sad. I guess it was because I was bumped. Bumped by the ladies with the bumps. There’s been an awful lot of casual bumping going on around here, there’s some kind of bump boom happening at the moment (no wonder Dr F couldn’t see someone bump-free), and sometimes you wish you had a bump if for no other reason than being able to bump right back. Oh well. Let’s try again Tuesday.



  1. Grad said,

    I’m sorry you were disappointed by your doctor’s change of schedule. Sometimes the wrong people get bumped…in more ways than one. Resolve to bump back!

  2. Lilian Nattel said,

    Oh I am sorry. It’s hard to be bumpless when you’re doing everything you can for one, esp when any teenage girl who doesn’t want one ends up with one after a careless night and probably doing drugs too (not the kind that make your ovaries pump out eggs). You just don’t know the path ahead when you’re in the midst of it. Hang in there.

  3. doctordi said,

    Grad, it’s funny, but when you’re bumpless, it’s like you don’t have any right to bump back. You’re not even really allowed to have an opinion about bumps. It’s a form of second-class citizenry at this precise point in my life, when most of my peers are already mothers. I’m finding it very instructive, because if I ever do have a bump to call my own, no way am I treating the bumpless like worthless obstacles along my endless victory lap.

    Lilian, don’t even get me started on the teenage girls and others who shouldn’t be getting pregnant but keep right on doing it. Don’t open that Rant Can, whatever you do!

  4. Simonne said,

    Looks like we’re both blogging about bumps – or lack of!
    Hang in there, bumpless, I’m right there with you x

  5. Pete said,

    Dear Bumpless in Beachtown (or whatever suburb in Sydney starts with a B) … it’s quite normal to feel sad / frustrated / irritated in the circumstances. And I also hate the way women use their prams as weapons. Actually they use shopping trolleys as weapons too but let’s not go there. (Of course men use their cars as weapons too.) But anyway, sorry you got bumped and sorry the trying-to-get-bumped business is frustrating. And I’m glad to be back reading your blog as well.

  6. doctordi said,

    Thanks, Simonne, and I really enjoyed your own post on this bumpy road!

    Pete, great alliteration! And Beachtown is a perfectly apt alternate moniker for Man Town – great to have you back!

  7. litlove said,

    I’m really sorry your appointment got moved – that can be sooo frustrating. On the other hand, you may feel less emotional about the next one, having expended the best quality emotions anticipating the first, if you see what you mean. My mother had a hiatus between babies when she couldn’t conceive, and eventually she decided she should give up trying. Instantly, she became pregnant with me. The other thing i read was in a French magazine (deeply psychological folk, the French) that suggested women find it hard to conceive if they feel their mothers have not given them the ‘green light’ to do so, or if they lack a sense of viably continuity between the generations. I have no idea how you would feel about this, but I mention it in any case.

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