The Clinic Chronicles: Part 5

The Delicate Balance

I was giddy seeing the bean for the very first time.

I forgot about everything else: the thing stuck in my insides, my nerves, my fears. All I could think of was, “That’s our baby! We have a baby!” I was still in shock, but I was now happy shocked.

“Is everything alright with our baby?” We asked excitedly.

“Well, let’s have the doctor interpret these images for you, okay?” the nurse said.

Blissed out, we were content.

Back in the good doctor’s little office we went to wait while she signed for the ultrasound images.

“Well, congratulations! You’re going to be parents in roughly 8 months!” she grins.

”You’re four weeks along and the baby seems to be holding on.”

We beam at each other. We beam at her and back at each other again.

“However…”

However?

There’s a however!?

“We need to put you on this medicine. Do you see this dark area here…and here? There shouldn’t be any. It means the little place where your baby is living in is not fully attached to your womb.”

And that meant?

“We need to help the baby attach more firmly or we could lose it.”

Whoa.

I couldn’t breathe. I think I crushed Mr. F’s hand but he wasn’t saying anything. I didn’t want to look at him at all.

“It isn’t your fault or anything. This can be brought on by the holiday stress, your travelling, work…there’s a lot of factors involved so we really don’t know what caused this. It just means we have to take it easy and be careful from here on.”

She began writing a prescription but I was barely listening.

I thought it wasn’t going to mean much. I honestly thought I was afraid to have the little bean. Now that I’ve seen that it was growing in me, I felt more afraid of losing that little pulse beating in my belly.

“So don’t drink, don’t smoke, watch what you eat, sleep early and lay off the stress. We’ll keep you on this for two weeks then you come back to me and we’ll see. Okay?”

Mr. F answered for us both. “We’ll see you in two weeks, Doc.”

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 2

The OB-Gyne Lottery

So I loosened my death grip on the lounge chair and went inside.

“Dra. O will be with you shortly” the nice nurse said with a warm smile as led us into a little office.

It was definitely quiet in the little office with fresh pastels all around. Since it was a little bit cozy, I felt myself begin to relax.

“See? It’s not that bad, right?” said Mr. F.

I managed a smile. Yeah, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Wow! Pastels really do calm you down! I could feel myself actually loosening up.

I couldn’t care less if we got an old prude. We can always change doctors and never come back here again. Maybe a motherly type would be nice. You know, to take us by the hand and guide us through our impending parenthood?

The knob turns and in walks…a young girl. Who let the interns in!?

“Good morning! I see you’re here because you suspect you’re pregnant?” she smiles and looks up from my patient profile on her clip board.

Good God! Not only was this OB young, she looked exactly like one of my aunts! I can almost see her running straight to my mom to tell her about the nitty-gritty of my inner plumbing as soon as we’re out the door.

Shock must have registered on my face because Mr. F elbowed me into closing my mouth.

“I’m sorry. You look so young and you look like my aunt! I’m seriously weirded out” I say.

*Elbows*

“Sorry!”

The young doctor laughs with my aunt’s laugh (déjà vu) and say she’s pretty sure we’re not related.

Turns out she’s had a few years worth of live babies under her belt, a couple of hospitals residencies, and a big boy of her own.

Besides, she said, virtually her entire family was in medicine. Her father is also an OB, having delivered her kid (his grandson) via cesarean, her oldest brother is in general surgery; her other brother is in neonatal care and pediatrics, and their youngest brother ended up in pharmaceuticals (you know…just for a change of pace).

“So what does your husband practice?” we asked in awe.

“Ooh! I met him on a blind date!” She laughed.

“He’s in construction. So different, no?”

Mr. F and I couldn’t agree more.

In The Pink

At 17, I had my life all planned out.

Work hard, party harder, and retire to a little cottage on the beach.

I’ll be everyone's favorite grand-aunt; the eccentric old lady who cooks with her own herbs, the one with all the stories, and drinking wine like it was water. I’ll have a merry, rollicking love life and be the living muse of rock stars, painters and poets.

All shall love me and despair!

Ten years later, I’m dry-heaving into a toilet bowl. Not quite the picture I saw in my head. The toilet bowl was a familiar sight on Saturday mornings after a Friday night’s drunken debauchery. Things were different this time though as beside me was the number-cruncher I married two years ago and I was dry heaving for an entirely different reason aside from too much alcohol.

At least I suspected as much.

Mr. F, my beloved number-cruncher, excitedly whips out a candy pink box and presents it to me. If only it did contain candy.

"It’s a pregnancy kit!” F said as he was opening the box.

“Why wait for a clinic check up when we can find out now?"

How he managed to get a hold of a home pregnancy kit at six in the morning is beyond me.

"Aren’t you excited!? ComeoncomeoncomeOON!”

A pee drop later found Mr. F and I staring in fascination at the two tiny windows that were about to change our lives forever.

“Pink line! PINK LINE, BABE!”

“That’s a fiber, hon” a bit unsurely.

Another minute passes.

“That’s definitely a pink line babe.”

“Yeah but there should be a line in both windows.”

“There’s another forming now.”

“The pee hasn’t gone that far yet!”

As I watched the moisture creep up the pregnancy strip I was suddenly struck with how surreal all this was. Shouldn’t I be excited? What if I am pregnant? Do I want to be pregnant? Why wouldn’t I want to be? What was one supposed to feel in these kinds of situation?

A litany of thoughts started crowding my already throbbing head and, in spite of myself, the suspense was killing me. I plop on the living room couch while Mr. F stays in the bathroom waiting for the result.

Three minutes passes. Total silence.

“So are we or are we not, hon?”

He comes out of the bathroom, holding the thing. He looks at me without saying a word. His face just about breaks my heart. I knew right then he was going to start tearing up, my big softie. I run up to give him a big hug.

“It’s okay, honey, we can try again. My period might just be around the corner. We’ve had a stressful holiday season that’s why my cycle’s all messed up.”

*sniff*…mumble.

“Please don’t be sad, hon!”

More mumbles. I squeeze him tighter, letting him know how much I love him and thinking he’s going to be a great dad someday.

“You’re cutting off my air, babe…and we’re pregnant.”