Telling the Bosses

When you work in a vets there are two quite intimidating factors you need to overcome when telling your boss that you are pregnant. The first is that, in general, you don’t just have one boss - in my case there were five. And the second, as statistics will reflect, is that the majority of these bosses are MEN! 

‘I should write them a letter, or perhaps i could pick one of them to speak to, but which one? Will I tell them now or wait until I get so big they have to ask me? Actually maybe I should just quit, yep that would be a hell of a lot easier!”

Anyway after lots of deliberation and having given all options serious consideration I decided in the end to do…. nothing! That’s right, I did absolutely nothing, and instead the following weekend rang my good friend and vet office manager Danielle and asked her to meet me for lunch. Just as she was about to tuck into her chipolata chicken fajitas, I hit her with it! 

“What?”  “Again?”  “I mean sorry, Congratulations!”

“Yes, I know, thanks, so how am I going to tell the bosses? “

“Mmm, I don’t know, I suppose your just going to have to tell them Louise”

“Yes I know that! But how?”

So every evening on my way home from work I would think about what I was going to say and convince myself that tomorrow was the day. But tomorrow came and tomorrow went, the weeks came and went. I managed to wriggle out of assisting with x-rays and the heats for the giant dog lift World Championships, and meanwhile, Danielle, who was sworn to secrecy, did her best to assign me bundles of paperwork. Meanwhile my colleagues were becoming increasingly suspicious of my new found need to carry a pocket sized Sterillium with me at all times, two squirts of which was a MUST if I so much as looked a cat poo. 

So basically instead of doing the logical thing by stepping up and taking control of the situation I let the situation take control of me. (FYI, that was not the best idea I’ve ever had).

It was a Friday afternoon, I know this because Friday was cake day, and Mr. Fitzsimons, one of our senior practice partners called me into the consult room as I was mid face-full of Victoria Sponge. 

“Louise, would you mind having Mrs. C sign Oscar’s consent for a pelvic x-ray, then meet me in the imaging suite.”

This my friends was what I like to refer to as, my “Oh Sh1t” moment!’

The practice was two nurses down and I was about to be asked to help with an X-Ray.

“Yes, not a problem,” I mumbled through the mouth full of cake, whilst trying to maintain some level of professionalism.

“I’m gonna get the sack! No, they can’t sack me, it’s illegal! Yeah, but they could find another reason to get rid of me, like they’re downsizing or some hogwash like that.”

“Do you have a pen dear?”

“Excuse me do you have a PEN?!” 

“Oh, Oh yes of course sorry!” I said.

Snap out of it Louise! I could feel my heart racing and some sort of odd ringing in my ear. 

“Will he have to stay in over night?” 

“Pardon?” I replied. 

“Will he get HOME today?” she repeated.

“Yes I should imagine so” realising as soon as I said it I actually hadn’t got a clue!

Then as if that wasn’t bad enough I committed the cardinal of all veterinary sins!

“Sorry what was his name again?” I asked sheepishly

“My name?” she replied 

“No sorry, the dogs name?”

“Oscar, it’s OSCAR!” with noted frustration presumably at my clear lack of attention. 

“And what a good boy you are Oscar” I said trying to redeem myself. 

“Ok, well Oscar can come with me now and Mr. Fitzsimons will ring you as soon as he has the results” and off she went, clearly of the opinion I wasn’t capable of being responsible for a teddy bear, never mind her four legged pride and joy.

‘Oh Oscar, why couldn’t you just be like every other Westie and have itchy skin or something?’ I asked as I picked him up. This was all my own doing; why hadn’t I plucked up the courage to sort this before now? The partners were genuinely nice people and great to work for; this being said, you would imagine it would make the prospect of telling them easier, but instead it had the complete opposite effect! I was coming up to 16 weeks now and still hadn’t said a word. 

As I carried Oscar down to imaging the feeling of guilt seemed to increase with every step, guilt that I hadn’t told them yet, guilt that they will have to once again organise maternity cover for me and guilt that I wasn’t able to give my job 100% as I have always tried to in the past. 

And in the midst of this guilt I felt a far greater more profound guilt towards my unborn baby, husband, and self for feeling guilty about being pregnant in the first place. It was the ultimate catch-22.

I was frantically trying to think what I should say. By the time we arrived at the bottom of the hall my face and Oscar’s coat were rather a similar shade of white.

“Okay, Oscar, let’s get you sorted” said Mr. Fitzsimons

Then it came…

“Louise can you give me a hand to X-Ray.”

“I cant!” 

I blurted out rather more loudly than I had intended, catching the attention of other nearby staff.

“What?” he said with a look of confusion.

“I mean, I’m sorry, but I have something I need to tell you.”

It’s an EMERGENCY!

Now, don’t get me wrong; I love my children with all my heart, and count myself wholly blessed to have them. However, when you have just finished a stint of being the human equivalent of Daisy the dairy cow and you STILL haven’t had a full nights sleep in over four years, this is the kind of information that can strike fear into the best of us!

What do I do?       What do I do?!

It has been said that people react in peculiar ways in stressful situations, and as it turns out I am no different!

Ring…. Ring….         Ring …..Ring……..

Receptionist: Hello Village Medical Practice.
Me: Hello! My name is Louise Samuel-Napier, I need an emergency appointment….today!
Receptionist: Can I ask the nature of the emergency?
Me: I just found out I’m PREGNANT!
Receptionist: Hmm…do you definitely need an EM..ERG..EN..CY appointment?
Me:  Yes! Yes I DO!
Receptionist: Err, ok…. Well…. Dr. Crawford has an ‘urgent only’ appointment at 2:45pm?
Me :  Great, I’ll take it!

Like, seriously! I can’t say that this was responsible use of our NHS, nor do I remember what I was expecting him to do. Un-diagnose my self-diagnosis perhaps? But, just as I was hanging up the phone, a feeling of absolute trepidation washed over me.

“I’ve been helping with X-Rays! Cleaning out kennels! LITTER TRAYS! And perched right beside that dammed anesthetic machine! Oh this is not good!”

So, for the second time that day, I packed my poor children into the car, and off we went, this time to the Doctor. After a wait that seemed to go on forever (allowing my two youngsters to successfully litter the waiting room with NHS leaflets whilst reception staff looked on disapprovingly at my poor attempts to regain some control over the little vandals, it was finally our turn to go in. After an exhaustive rant to Crawf (as he is affectionately known in our family) of all the things I had done in work in the past 4 weeks, and how some of the time “I wasn’t even wearing gloves!” and with my PhD in Google reeled off all the harmful effects this could have on an unborn child.

Eventually he broke his silence. “Now, Louise,” he said in a calm, reassuring tone “some of these examples to which you are referring are incredibly rare, and, most of them, I have not come across in practice. I have plenty of patients who are vets and vet nurses who have worked during pregnancy, and, going forward, if you take the necessary precautions at work, it should be fine.”

I can’t honestly say that this made my concerns disappear overnight but mostly I did try to keep things in perspective; still, you and I both know ‘necessary precautions’ in a mixed veterinary practice could realistically include anything from putting on a glove to wearing full American football attire and carrying a personal oxygen supply.

Behind Closed doors.
When the ‘sh1t’ hits the fan, apparently I come across as calm and level headed(at least to the outside world), but in fact this could not be further from the truth. Indeed what my coping mechanism generally involves is having a series of short but dramatic melt downs, in the security of my own home, preferably when my children are asleep so no one else other than my poor unsuspecting husband can see. Then, once the amateur dramatics have come to a close, I try to remind myself of all the positive factors in the situation, then go to bed in the hope that it will all look better in the morning.

So true to form I waited until my husband returned from work to cry uncontrollably and repeatedly tell him how, it was all his fault (obviously!) until I eventually calmed down and came to the conclusion that, as we had always wanted three children, it was, in fact, a GREAT idea!

I could literally talk myself in or out of anything, but getting out of this one wasn’t an option, so in it was.

You have got to be kidding!

Rewinding back a few years from my first blog, it was a picturesque autumn morning Ethan had just turned four and Darcey was seven months and being the delightful little world wind that any seven month old is. I was happily settling back into work at the practice but all week I had a peculiar feeling something was up!

Me : “Something’s not right”

Me 2: “Stop being dramatic your fine!”

Me:  “No, seriously I feel a bit funny”

Me 2: “Your grand!! Perhaps you have eaten something that didn’t agree with you?”

Me: “yeah, probably…. But actually what if……???? ”

Enough is enough! Impatience and curiosity two of my many qualities …Euh! I dusted the breakfast crumbs off Ethan, wiped his face (with a baby wipe, ahhh, BAD mother!), bundled the baby in to her car seat and off we set.

When we arrived at the chemist I grabbed the biggest bottle of water I could find then discreetly picked up a double pack of clear blue (of which I’m sure every man and their dog is familiar with thanks to the persistent and somewhat unrealistic YouTube adverts). Then just like the script you couldn’t write who comes waltzing into the chemist and joins the queue behind me but Mrs. Dorman, so called ‘friend of the family’ and gossip of all gossips who frequently likes to voice her opinion on my life choices.

Seriously! I thought, why me? 

“Hello Louise” she said leaning over my shoulder  “you’re looking well!” she remarked in her factitiously friendly tone. As I was sporting tracksuit bottoms and an oversized hoodie with my hair scraped back and a visage naturel, I couldn’t but infer her sarcasm.

“Ahh hello Belinda” I said as if I hadn’t already clocked her presence. I did my best to conceal the pregnancy tests whilst trying not to succumb to her finely tuned interrogation skills, I was clearly struggling so I did what every one of us does best and defaulted to, the weather! (God bless changeable weather, I’m sure it’s saved many a hide.) Then just as the person in front was handing over their money, and for fear of her beady eyes seeing what I was about to buy..

  “Oh Gosh! “ I said,

“I completely forgot shampoo! Id better run back, enjoy the rest of your weekend.” I said in haste

“Oh…ok, well, see you soon” she mumbled, presumably frustrated that the only intelligence she managed to extract was my thoughts on last nights strong winds. HA!

Eventually after a lengthy decision making process on the bath & shower aisle to ensure the coast was clear, I picked up the same shampoo I’ve been buying for at least the past 5 years, scurried to the till, paid and hurried out of the shop as fast as I could carry a baby in a car seat and coax a four year old.

The drive home was driving me to distraction, my brain was working overtime trying to figure out what on earth I was going to do if I was pregnant again. ‘I can’t be pregnant again!! This wasn’t in the PLAN !’ in between moments of sheer panic I was taking massive gulps of water so I wouldn’t have to wait around for the need to pee when I go home and trying to compose myself to answer my son’s persistent requests to go to the park!

Go to the park, I thought…..NOW??   Perhaps the other parents and their offspring would enjoy seeing a public break down ehh?!

When we arrived home I plonked Ethan in front of the TV and thankfully Darcey was fast asleep.  I ran straight into the bathroom whipped the wrapper off, didn’t need to read the instructions, bit of a pro at this stage! Then came the dreaded wait; Clear Blue unlike the £2.99 bargain basement pregnancy sticks is much too fancy to have you watch with anticipation as your pee travels up the stick instead it loads as if it where a web page then flashes the answer at you like those annoying Bet 365 adverts.

3-4 Weeks      3-4 Weeks    3-4 Weeks

“You have got to be kidding!”

Motherhood is a Task, Just Don't Let Everyone Know It!

“My Dearest, we all know motherhood is a task but you’re not supposed let everyone know it.”

My Grandmother's words were echoing through my mind as I sat at the breakfast bar, peering down at the pictures in the Veterinary Times, whilst sporting a bed-head that even a Highland Cow would be proud of and eating Alpin with a Mr. Men spoon. But what did she mean, you’re not supposed to let everyone know it!? If making motherhood look effortless is some sort of secret, someone really needs to let me in on it because right now I’m pretty sure I am painful to watch.

Snap out of it Louise its 7:08am and the children are still in bed!

Let me introduce myself, My name is Louise Samuel-Napier, wife of Chris and mother to three wonderful children (most of the time), Ethan (8) Darcey (5) and Eliza (4), we have a cat called Edmond, a Shetland pony called Macca Packa and two guinea pigs whom are without name, because we simply gave up naming them after the fifth one popped its clogs. I'm currently studying veterinary medicine at the Royal Veterinary College,  a course I love with a passion, so much so that I’m about to be late for my 9:00am dissection, and those of you who are familiar with the Infamous Mr. Crooke, will know it won't go unnoticed!

We moved to Hertfordshire in September of 2015 from the quaint country life of rural County Down, where I worked as a veterinary technician in a mixed practice. My husband’s work required him to go to London and I had always wanted to be a vet so it seemed like the perfect plan!  Anyway to cut a long story short we packed up our old life hopped on a boat and voilà! We arrived on the marvelous, rocky coast of England with ……(wait for it) no house, no nursery or school for our kids and not a familiar faces in sight, not to mention we hadn’t the slightest idea of the enormity of the task we were about to undertake! But actually that’s a story for another day...!