Today at approximately 2:45 (do you like how I said “approximately” and then gave an exact time? Me either) I return to see one of my favorite doctors: my OB. He’s the one I saw when I was pregnant with Alex, the one who always “forgets” who The Daver is and asks me if it’s the same guy (he’s joking. I think), the one who always remembers that my grandfather was a doctor. He’s no-nonsense and I adore him.
He’s starkly different from my first OB, the only OB that my crappy HMO would let me see. He wasn’t a bad guy, he probably said all of 12 words to me the whole time I was pregnant with Ben, and that’s okay. I’ve never needed someone to really hold my hand or reassure me (until I spotted. Then that was ALL I needed), and it wasn’t his lack of vocal chords (I can only surmise) but the fact that he was an uber-Christian.
And me? I was unmarried. And unhappy.
I’ll say for him that he never, ever made any real remarks to me about it, save for my first appointment when he acknowledged that things must be really hard right now. And they were terribly hard.
No, what I’m still bitter about with my first OB was the dreaded forceps delivery I had. Which gave me 4th degree tearing–the highest level possible. At age 21. I’ve occasionally pestered Dave to tell me if having The Sex with me is like throwing a hotdog down a hallway, and he laughs, but secretly I worry.
I guess I’ll never know.
What I do know is this: I’m literally kicking myself for not asking The Daver (hotdog down hallway aside) to stay home and go with me to this appointment. Not because I’m all insecure and can’t do anything without him, but because it’s one of those Scary For Aunt Becky Appointments, a Landmark Appointment, if I may (and I always may).
Today is the Doppler/Heartbeat day.
And although I’m still sick as shit, still have the world’s worst soapy taste in my mouth constantly, still haven’t taken a proper poo in who knows how long, I’m full of nervous. In fact, I’m so ridiculously nervous that I ASKED MY MOTHER (the least sympathetic/reassuring person on the planet. You have to trust me on this) TO COME WITH ME. Oh yes, yes I did.
If I’m gonna get bad news, I’d rather have SOMEONE besides Alex there to help me out.
I’m a neurotic freak, I know.