I had my first doctor's appointment last Friday. Well, it really wasn't with the doctor, it was that first appointment when they tell you what your insurance covers, the nurse does the history write-up, and then they take 12 ginormous vials of blood our of your arm.
I called the office as soon as I got the postive test, and when I requested an appointment with my own OB, I was informed that he retired. Just that week actually. They were in the process of distributing his patients to the other doctors in the practice, so I requested the doctor who did my emergency c-section. It turns out that he's the high-risk specialist, so that's good. And it's probably good that I'm going with a new doctor, too. I know that my doctor had nothing to do with what happened, but still. I don't know.
Tom went with me to the appointment, thank God. I almost wish that I had picked an entirely different practice, so I wouldn't have to sit in that same waiting room, but it feels a little better now than it did at my post-partum exams. Most of the time was spent waiting in the lab anyway. Another much more pregnant chick was waiting there too, just having had her "big" ultrasound (it was a boy). She was chatty--"Is this your first?" she asks. "No", I say, secretly daring her to ask for more details. I don't know why. I think that she was just getting on my nerves, and I wanted to shut her up. Instead she asked if my Crocs were comfortable. So that makes me think--I'm not going to spend this pregnancy fiendishly scaring other pregnant woman with my story, am I? Because that's just mean. And kinda sick. I'll have to keep an eye on that.
Tom wanted to know if women are always that chatty in this place. (Small talk from strangers annoys the hell out of him.) I tell him yes, they always are. Women use this one common denominator as the reason to ask a million questions. He said that it was like being on vacation again--Where are you from? What do you do? Is this your first cruise? Yeah, it's totally like that.
The meeting with the nurse was laid back and brief. Of course the only difficult part was when she asked how many pregnancies I've had and how many resulted in a live birth. And I had to say that the pregnancy lasted for 40 weeks but no, he wasn't stillborn but brain dead, and he was on life support for four days.
I wish that I knew what the "plan" was going to be. I think that I would just feel a little more at ease if I did, but I won't know that until I meet with Dr. W on the 23rd. The good news is that I'll get an ultrasound at that first appointment. I think that's already a positive sign of things to come. I didn't get my first ultrasound with Nate until 19 weeks, and the nurse told me that I would have lots of ultrasounds with Dr. W, which makes me feel better already.
So--I've had the stomach flu for the past two days. I wish that I could write something more profound--I've got lots of profound thoughts swirling around in my head--but I should probably go have some toast. Ugh.