I had my first doctor's appointment yesterday with Dr. D. He was recommended to me by some friends from Church. He also goes to our Church, so that was a big plus for me. It's assuring to know that my doctor has the same beliefs as me and that if there was ever an emergency at the hospital, he would know what to do (call a priest ASAP!). My friends also said that he'll pray with you in the delivery room and I'm sure he'll be praying for us throughout the whole pregnancy.
My appointment was at 6:20. I walked in there not knowing if I would be able to go with Dr. D or not because he's not actually an OB. He's a family practitioner. I know...it sounds a little strange. A little scary, even. But that's the type of Family Practice that it is. All the doctors there deliver babies. They are an epitome of what a family practice should be. They will deliver your baby and then your baby becomes one of their patients and then they will see your baby until your baby is ready to have babies. They become like family. And it's not like other places where you have to see ALL the doctors and every visit you meet a new doctor and then when delivery comes you get who ever's on duty. No, you pick a doc and they stay with you forever. They want it to be very personal. Like family. This all sounded like a dream come true to me. BUT (there's always a but, isn't there?), they will only deliver low-risk cases. Now, I'm definitely not high-risk. But I wasn't sure if I was classified as low-risk either. Maybe more like medium-risk. After Mr. Tickle was born, the doctor who delivered him said, "I gotta warn you that it was very difficult to get him out. If you don't do something differently in the future, well, you might not be able to deliver vaginally." Dun, dun, dun! I jokingly said, "Like what? Have smaller babies?" But it was no joke to him. That's exactly what he meant. I just thought, 'Okay. He's coo-coo. I have no control over how big my babies are.' But the warning definitely stuck. The word "C-Section" has been hanging over my head ever since.
So, anyway, like I said. I wasn't sure if he could take me on as a patient or not. When I got there, they were practically empty. Two more patients arrived after me. They're open until 7PM. The woman at the front desk was very kind (that's a plus) and gave me a sign that said, "You are going to the blue team. When your name is called, please follow the blue arrows." Umm, okay. She then asked me to have a seat. They have two waiting rooms. One for sick patients and one for healthy patients. They're big waiting rooms. After sitting down, I looked up at the wall where they have list of their "teams". Red, Orange, Yellow, Blue, Green, Purple. Six teams? Six different teams of doctors? Then I looked down the hall and saw all the colors of the rainbow in arrows, pointing this way and that. This place was huge! I was suddenly feeling a bit intimidated. I don't like big hospitals or big doctor's offices. After waiting and waiting (man, there's nobody here. What's taking so long?) I was called. My name was shouted out into the room. I looked up, expecting a nurse. There was no one. So, I took my stuff, walked into the hallway and followed the blue arrows. I walked and walked and walked some more. Is this it? No, that's the yellow teams desk. Followed some more arrows. Now I knew why a nurse doesn't come to call your name. Because it would be too far for them to walk! The blue team is all the way at the end. then you come to another desk. "Hi, I'm here to see Dr. D" I notice on the desk and piece of paper with a handwritten message: "Make me an instrument of your peace". That's part of a prayer that St. Francis wrote. I started to feel better after my long journey to the blue team. The woman behind the desk greeted me with a smile and after weighing me she sent me to the room. She took my blood pressure, asked me some questions, then sent me to go pee in a cup. (Why do I hear my brother Jason's voice when I say 'pee in a cup'? 'Peeinacup', 'peeinacup'. I really have no idea) While I was in the bathroom, I washed my hands. The soap smelled just like the soap at the hospital. In fact, the entire bathroom smelt like the hospital. I have always hated hospitals. They give me the creeps. I don't like being in a hospital. But ya' know what happened when I smelled those smells? They reminded me of babies. My babies. I have only been admitted to a hospital to deliver babies. the smell made my heart fill up with love and felt like it was going to burst. I stopped to think that in a couple months I will be in the hospital, holding my new baby. Maybe I didn't mind hospitals so much, after all.
After that, I went back into the room and waited for the doctor. I sat there for a good twenty minutes, twiddling my thumbs. Finally, I decided I'd pray the Rosary. After praying the ENTIRE Rosary, I still waited. The nurse came back in and told me that there was an emergency patient come in and that the doctor was now behind. there was one patient ahead of me and so the wait would be another 30 minutes. She asked if I wanted to re-schedule. No. I had been there for that long, might as well wait 30 more minutes. So, she went on to tell me that the pregnancy test was positive (duh), that I was exactly 8 weeks on the dot (yep, coulda told you that) and that my due date is June 30th. Well, I had June 29th written down, but close enough. She was getting ready to leave when I began to start asking her questions. I figured if I had her here, might as well take advantage of the situation. So we got to talking and she explained to me that they are a very "old fashioned" practice. When it comes to pregnancy, they don't do a lot of modern interventions such as inducing a patient. What's that you say? No inductions? Why, that's music to my ears! Also, at most places, the OB will have you come in every week after 35 weeks for an internal check-up. They don't do that either. There's no point. Why tell a woman she's 3 centimeters dilated and get her to think that any minute the baby will be here and then she ends up walking around 3 more weeks at 3 centimeters. More music to my ears. BUT (there's that but again) they also don't do mandatory ultrasounds and will only do one if absolutely necessary. The record scratches and the music stops. Well, at least the good outweighs the bad. I liked what I was hearing. The doctor called for the nurse, so she left. That had to have killed at least 15 of the 30 minutes. I called Mike and let him know what was going on. Then waited. I thought about lying down and taking a nap. No, I didn't want to be sleeping when he walked in. So, I just sat. I thought about Christmas presents and what I'd like to buy for everyone. Then, finally, the doctor was in! He shook my hand and said, "Congratulations! You're pregnant! But you already knew that, didn't you?" He explained how things work a bit and then began to screen me. They have to ask me a bunch of questions to make sure I don't need an OB for my pregnancy. Have you ever had a stroke? Heart disease? Cancer? Seizures? and on and on and on. No, no, no, no, and no. I passed. Then I was able to explain to him about how I was induced with my last 2 pregnancies in fear that the babies would get to big for me to deliver if I went to my due date. He said that he will induce if it's necessary and that of course they keep track of how the baby is growing and that if they think it's a big baby they will do an ultrasound to check. Okay, cool. He also suggested that I try not to gain too much weight because that effects the size of the baby. What? I thought that was a myth! Apparently not. After all, I did gain 70 pounds with all my pregnancies. So, he said that's definitely something I could do to lessen my chances of having to me induced. Try to make it my goal to only gain 20 pounds. Little does me know that in the past 2 months I have already gained 15! Oh, man. As soon as I start feeling better, I'm going on a diet. I'm so serious. I may even take it as far as giving up sugar. Okay, maybe not. We'll see. So, anyway, it all went really well. oh, I forgot to tell you that they are a "teaching" practice and so they have student doctors and one of the "3 year" student doctors will be assisting with my pregnancy. After your third year you're off to start your own practice so these people are practically doctors already. They gotta learn some how, right? My MIL and SIL think it's awful to have a student doctor but I don't mind one bit. So there. Plus, I think God directed me to Dr. D. One Saturday, I went to Mass and I prayed to God that He would direct me to a good doctor. Preferably a Catholic doctor. After mass I went to the grocery store and guess who I bumped into? Dr. D. I didn't think anything of it until Sunday, when I was praying again and Dr. D popped into my mind. Then I remembered how I had bumped into him at the store. I had seen him for my 6 week check-up after Mr. tickle was born but I didn't think he delivered babies. So, I talked to my friend about it (the one who is a patient of Dr. D's) and she said yes, he definitely delivers babies. He delivered her last baby and a few of her nephews. So, I did and the rest is history. I have found a doctor. What a relief. Well, I believe this post is long enough and I can hear little feet running around upstairs. The kids are awake. Time for breakfast! Have a great day!