The Good Doctor is In

I wouldn’t say, exactly, that I am optimistic. I would say that I may be slightly edging towards excited for this evening’s physical extravaganza at the RE’s (this is likely because it’s for a physical (take that Jude Law! I don’t need you!) and not for anything that involves any real pain—that takes place tomorrow). I believe in this doctor. I am thrilled that the clinic actually has a program specifically for recurrent pregnancy loss (most do not) and that the good doctor seems thoughtful and thorough. This is the beginning of maybe, just maybe, getting somewhere.

I did find myself, however, for a moment, missing my OB/GYN as I was scheduling the sono-hysterogram yesterday (They are going to do what? Where? FOR AN HOUR? I’m sorry, did you say “cramping”?) as I am used to him and his gruff, humorless ways and his protruding belly and the fact that his wife seems to be giving birth every other day. I really did, though, miss him. Although he’s literally never asked me anything about myself (I suppose there may be no perfect time to ask someone where they went to undergrad (Arizona) or where they grew up (difficult to say, West Coast?) or their favorite color (green) or favorite artist (Sally Mann? Frida Kahlo? Picasso?) when you are staring at the fuzzy image of an embryo without a heartbeat) there is comfort in the familiar. And although he’s made me angry before when I was convinced that I was losing babies because of familial periodontal disease (not likely) or because of an as of yet diagnosed bleeding disorder I was convinced that I had (again, probably not) he’s always called to follow up and listened and been there. And when he’s told me something that I absolutely did not believe (a D & C is less painful than miscarrying naturally, for example), he’s been right. So, here’s to you, Dr. OB/GYN, may your thousands of children be healthy and happy and may we meet again under more auspicious circumstances.