Remember my OB-GYN? The guy I was seeing before I made the big switch to being cared for by midwives? I’m really glad I left things on a good note with him, because I had to go see him on Monday and my goodness nothing scares me more than an OB-GYN with a grudge.
I walked into the office feeling like a bit of a pariah, really. After all, I had been a happy patient there for quite some time. I peed in a cup, read the magazines, and fully intended to have my baby at the hospital. Then, I changed my mind and did something most OB-GYNs consider very foolish: had my baby outside a hospital.
It wasn’t hard to see that I made the nurse uncomfortable as she interviewed me about my birth. She asked all the normal questions (Aidan’s birth date, birth weight, etc.) but when she got to the part about where he was born (at an independent birth center) and how the birth went (she looked perplexed when I assured her that I found the birth fun) she got noticeably uneasy.
Then, my doctor walked in. He welcomed me back, and asked a lot of the same questions. When I told him I thought the birth was fun, he just shook his head and kept writing his notes. Being the considerate person I aim to be, I thought I’d lighten the mood a little by assuring him he wouldn’t have wanted to deliver me anyway.
I described how loud I was (I can guarantee that my bellowing wouldn’t have gone over very well in a hospital), how stubborn I was (I had my one position in my one corner of the bathtub and I wasn’t moving no matter how many times I was asked), and how, thanks to said stubbornness, my midwife practically had to climb in there with me to catch Aidan as he came rocketing out.
While I recounted my tale, my doctor stopped taking notes and just stared at me for a minute. Then, a huge smile washed over his face and he said, “Yeah, I don’t go swimming.” And just like that, I became the well-loved but mostly harmless weirdo patient.