Massimo doesn’t know this but, when he was in his Mommy’s belly–I called him Baby Sue. Two procedures, almost daily doctor visits, daily shots, blood tests every other day, and finally my little nugget was conceived.
Eight weeks later–I was back in the doctor’s office. This time it was the normal OB/GYN. I was pretty excited–but I had enough of doctors. At that point, I would have been just fine if I’d never seen another doctor in my life. Don’t get me wrong–I was incredibly grateful for the skills that they had used to create the life that was growing inside of me but I would have preferred to be grateful from afar.
I had a vision of a beautiful natural child-birth. With candles and a bathtub. There would have been music–maybe even chanting. It would be painful but worth it.
I even picked the doctor’s office that was affiliated with the one and only midwifery center in my area. The office had the highest natural childbirth rate in my state and the doctor I picked ran the midwifery center.
After my eight week exam, the doctor invited me into his office–where he discussed his vision of my child-birth. We were not on the same page. I’m not even sure we were reading the same book.
I explained to him that I was interested in learning more about the midwifery center and wanted to “register” to have my birth there. The doctor, who appeared to be 78, scoffed!
“You wouldn’t run a marathon for the first time at 37, you can’t have natural childbirth for the first time at 37. You will RUIN OUR NUMBERS!!!!!!!”
I envisioned the following response: “I burst out in tears, lunged across the desk, grabbed his lab coat and shouted at him. Don’t you understand! I’ve had enough of your type! I just want to have this baby and be left alone! And you, you crotchety old man! Its 2014. Not 1914. Put me on the list for the midwifery center and I’ll show you a marathon!”
Unfortunately (or fortunately), I didn’t do any of that. I did nearly burst out in tears but I got up and left.
I was scared. Pregnancy is scary. Exciting but scary. I think the medical field does a good job of making it even more scary.
Three years later and I’m STILL scared. Does that ever go away? I have my doubts.
After the doctor’s appointment, I went home dejected but did NOT give up the hope of having a natural childbirth.
I soon received an email from my doctor with the notes from that day’s appointment.
It contained the following diagnosis: Elderly Primigravida.