Dr. Jesus

So, I am having the thrush issue again and the things I did last time to save myself from the red hot pokers repeatedly stabbing me in the sensitive bits? Not working.

So off I go to the OB...I need an annual anyway.

And oh, remember when I talked about the practice I used to go to getting all shaken up and the cream coming to the top and forming their own frothy and delicious practice? Oh yes. I got to go see THEM. When I went in, I got to see the Nurse-Practitioner-that-I-love who gossiped about babies and breastfeeding with me because our sons are the same age and basically have the same views on nursing. We were pregnant at the same time. After I got my bits taken care of, the two nurses made sure I saw the doctor who delivered my baby. Just informally in the hall.

I cried.

I know, it is pathetic, right? See, this is what happened. I HATED the last practice. The doctors were so mean to me, asking me why I was there when I was told to come back in 4 weeks. Asking me if I had my baby yet when I was sitting there, pregnant as ever. I felt like...cattle. Just another animal in the holding cell to do a pelvic on and shoo out to pasture. So, I only saw the Nurse-Practitioner-that-I-love until the very last month. But I knew that she wasn't going to deliver my baby; she couldn't. So I was really really scared of having to go through birth with my novice husband and some doctor who had no people or medical skills. Who can feel confident enough to push a new life out of their yoni with all that negativity in the room? I was terrified. Then the Nurse-Practitioner-that-I-love told me that I HAD to at least have one appointment with each of the doctors, just so they could "familiarize themselves with my chart." Bah humbug. But as an obedient little patient, I did it. There were three. The last one was Dr. Jesus. And I had hardened my heart and my resolve as a coping mechanism to deal with the situation saying I didn't give a crap who delivered the baby, as long as they went through med school.

She completely broke those walls down and even though I said about half a million times that I had no questions/concerns, she kept asking me until I finally did ask her the questions that I had. See, it was like because I was being treated as sub-human, I was reducing the birth to that level and reducing myself to an animal in a way. Kind of a just-do-it-and-get-it-over-with kind of thing. I couldn't care about it because if I did, it would have added so much stress to an already stressful situation. I don't think I could have handled caring about it. She held my hand and looked into my eyes and stayed with me for a pretty long time. I wasn't emotional or hysterical or anything. She just waited with me until I was well. With that one appointment, she made me a person again. A person who could care about how this was going to go and could expect to be treated with respect. I was lucky enough for her to deliver Jelly Bean.

So, I boo-hooed a bit at being able to see her again and remembering how she took this thing that I was dreading and made it wonderful. And we all laughed and hugged. I can't wait to have another baby, just so I can see these wonderful women every month. I know that is a little weird and I really wouldn't base my family planning strategies on wanting to visit with a certain doctor...But it was good to see them all in their pretty new office where I could receive health care as a whole person.