Walking through the doors of my obstetrician this morning reminded me yet again of how much I have lost over the years. Not just pregnancies, but hope, excitement, joy. Those emotions clung to the walls of the waiting room and reflected back to me as I stared at the aquarium. My cloak of fear and trepidation warded them like an oiled canvas in a snowstorm.
I was told by the doctor’s nurse that I probably wouldn’t feel comfortable until I felt the baby move. I know from speaking to some close friends and email exchanges with bloggers that I will probably never feel that comfort that comes with naivete.
I was handed a clipboard by the receptionist (Cold Fish) and directed to fill out the card and the highlighted sections of the form. The card was a promo from a formula company. I tucked it under the form leaving it blank. The first question on the form requested all prior pregnancies, GA, and labor details. It stung that my miscarriages were reduced to nothing more than a month/year date and gestational age.
For the exam, I had to endure a breast exam and pap smear in addition to the basic urine sample, blood draw and pressure check before Doc found Murdock’s heartbeat with the doppler. A PA in training asked me some basic questions on my medical history earlier with the first question out of her mouth being, "Was this pregnancy planned?" More irritating was the fact that the pad she used to write on was my file full of photocopies from my RE, which even I could plainly see from across the room.
Doc asked when I would like to return. I told him that right now two weeks is the most I could probably manage. That was fine by him.
When I stepped back into the waiting room to pick up my appointment card, Cold Fish swung onto the counter a large plastic bag heavy with magazines and promotional items. Stapled to the bag was a purple paper with Congratulations on Your Pregnancy! emblazoned on it. I felt like a fraud in front of a room of waiting patients and walked with my eyes down until I could safely decompress in the hallway leaving hope, excitement and joy on the other side of the door.
I’m wishing that I’ll soon be brave enough to take a little with me. Maybe next time…
Punch Drunk 