The joys and tragedies of an OB visit

Reverse insomnia got me up much earlier than I hoped to be up.  But I may as well use the extra time to blog, right?

So I had my first OB appointment for the new bean yesterday.  It was actually quite an adventure.  Quite a day. 

The first thing that I must say is this:  Of all the places to try to ‘save on military spending,’ why, oh why do they think that gowns for women’s OB/GYN visits at our Naval hospital should be a logical cut?!  When the corpsman left the room yesterday and gestured over to the exam table with the Kleenex-product sheet which would have maybe covered half an ankle to cover  my bottom half, and the…  lovely salmon, paper shirt/vest/jacket thing that covers exactly half of each boob (flap on each side) and leaves the whole rest of you exposed for the top half of me…  Oh, I got so distracted explaining the outfit that I lost my sentence.  Anyway when the corpsman gestured over to those ‘garments’ (to stretch the meaning of the word) which I’d rather enjoyed my Midwestern break from, well…  It was just a demoralizing thing. 

However, I exercised a bit of non-compliance.  Call me crazy, but I like to be clothed for first introductions.  So I sat tight and explained to the doctor that meeting people naked is not my favorite thing.  She hesitated for only a moment before doing the ‘beginning of visit’ spiel and excusing herself for the disrobing/ineffective covering with Kleenex-product crappiness.  However this caused me panic for the rest of the day:  Was it rude of me to insist on being clothed when she walked in?  Ahhh well….

Guys who may read, I really will spare you the gory details of the visit, only to say this–I was proud of my socks yesterday.   My theory is, if you gotta be in stirrups, wear fun socks.  I wore socks with cute little puppy-dogs on them.

We were lucky enough to get an ultra-sound yesterday to make sure our due date is correct (that’s another place they’ve decided to cut military spending…  our facility is Nazi-like about u/s’s).   Anyway–We were very excited to see that our bean has hands…  Little hands that beanie likes to wave around A LOT.  Such cute teeny-tiny hands that already have FINGERS!  Our bean has fingers!!!!!!!

So we ooed and ahhed over the bean, and it was time for me to try to get off the stupid table and put on something other than Kleenex-product.

Problem is, I injured my back, back when I was working with kids with disabilities…..  and since having Little Miss this injury is exacerbated when laying in certain positions–turns out these are the positions necessary for Kleenex-product wearing appointments….  Oh joy.  So I’m splayed out for the world to see and Can’t.  Freaking.  Move.

Husband and I managed to get me into a position where pain was gone and movement was possible and I re-robed…  Gave one last withering glare at the kleenex’s I’d covered up with, and waited for the doctor to come back with our beanie-pictures. 

Beanie pictures in hand, we got candy from their trick-or-treat bucket (ok…  so the candy was just supposed to be for Little Miss, but I figured after they did all THAT to me, I deserved a chocolatey snack on their dime!), and headed out.

I wish that I could continue on in my dry, but I hope mildly comical tone for the rest of the post, but to be honest I must say this….

The joy I expected to feel over the ultra-sound and the relief at finally being able to see a doctor…  (and liking her!) were over-shadowed…  I wasn’t sure at first, exactly why.

But…  it didn’t take long to realize that the problem was that something huge was missing.

My Mom. 

With Little Miss, I rarely got out of the parking lot of the clinic before calling her to tell her every detail of each doctor visit…  That nagging question of whether it was rude to be non-compliant and stay dressed to meet the doc–I wanted to ask Mom, because I KNOW she would have said, “Heck yes you did the right thing!”  The u/s pictures that we were given extra of “for the grandparents” well…  it’s just that there’s a grandma that should have gotten to have one of those photos and can’t.  And I cried.  I cried a lot.

But hey–if an OB visit can’t strip you of all defenses and reduce you to utter vulnerability, nothing can, right???

And–Amanda–How’s that for a Wal-mart moment?  😉

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “The joys and tragedies of an OB visit

  1. Those paper napkins, as I like to call them, are seriously wrong. They need to come up with something better. And it gets worse as each time I went for the last few visits, that’s all I got!

    Glad to hear Bean is growing so nicely! It’s truely amazing how he or she is being knit together!

  2. My God, what a WalMart moment. At least none of mine have involved stirrups. (Although if I associated Eric with stirrups, you might have *ahem* wondered about us…)

    Hey, chalk it up to the hormone fluctuations. 🙂

  3. Oh gosh! You mean they’re still using those Mystery Surplus Items???? I have a sneaking hunch they were left over from experimental potty training aids in the camps Japanese people were forced to live in during WWII. It has been nearly 14 years since I was introduced to those horrors but I remember them well!

    No, you were NOT wrong to stay clothed until you met the doctor. My husband used to panic every time any military personnel would cross me. “I know that look. Keep your mouth shut. It could effect my career.” Career be hanged! If I had it to do over again, I’d “effect” his career and maybe the victims at Keesler would at least get some coverage out of their ordeals. The only place suitable for paper clothing is on paper dolls!

    Anyway, congratulations on the Bean. 🙂 And I’m so sorry about your Mama. That has to be so hard. 😦

    Hugs,

    Mrs. Nicklebee

    P.S. Go to WalMart and buy a “housecoat” from the old lady section and a towel and take those with you for your other appointments, just in case. They’ll just have to get over themselves.

  4. Pingback: And a Little More Empowerment « Dig Your Toes In

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s