Ah-ha moments
I met the midwife at my doctor's practice today, and I really liked her! Her name is Jenny (much easier to type that than to say over and over "the midwife at my doctor's practice"). I had decided not to do a full-on interview like I did with the last midwife I saw, because I had already found out a lot of the answers online from others' experiences. But I did have a few key questions, and I mostly wanted to see how we "clicked." I was prepared for no ah-ha moment. I rely too much on the ah-ha moment. Forget about the ah-ha moment.
But the whole visit was an ah-ha moment!
First of all, I was afraid the visit would be rushed. I didn't get called back until 25 minutes past my appointment time, and the nurse who took my weight and blood pressure was extremely rushed. She said she needed to get me back to see Jenny, because Jenny needed to get to the hospital. I imagined myself saying, "I know you're in a hurry, but I have just a couple questions!" I imagined the complete absence of the ah-ha moment. Ah-ha moment in the negative.
But when Jenny came in, accompanied by a doctor-in-training, she did not seem even a little rushed, and I felt right at ease. She started out by clarifying, "You were seeing someone else, right?" I explained that I just didn't click with the other person. I intended not to say anything specific or snarky about the doctor, but I was not entirely successful--but she also remarked, at one point as she looked at my chart, "The person you were seeing before is not the best at documenting things." GREAT. So anyway. It's not like I was badmouthing her best friend.
I feel comfortable that she won't induce me needlessly. Nor will she do an episiotomy; she says she hasn't cut a perineum in four years. She says, "We were made to have babies." She seems to take that philosophy to the ends of her practice of caring for moms-to-be, and that's the kind of philosophy I'm looking for.
She asked me to read The Birth Book by Dr. Sears, which I've ordered from Amazon. She also asked me to start drinking a gallon of water every day, which I managed to do today. And she asked me to eat better and to exercise more. Well... I'm writing this entry instead of going for a walk, but I did eat a salad and a baked potato for dinner, and I feel committed to making healthier choices at my next visit to the grocery store.
I asked her how likely it was that she would be the one to deliver my baby; she said very. I said, "What if you aren't on call?" She said, "They call me anyway." The only potential conflict is that her daughter graduates from middle school on June 8, but that would put me almost two weeks overdue, and that probably won't happen (knock on wood), at least labor on that particular date probably won't happen. She indicated as well that she makes an effort to be there for her patients who actually want midwife care, who actually want her, perhaps moreso than she might for her patients who don't seem to care and who call her "doctor" and don't recognize the difference.
She said delivering babies is her favorite part of her job, and helping women feel empowered. She's fine with letting you have the drugs, and I'm pretty sure I want the drugs, but she says the empowerment isn't about having the drugs or not. So, anyway, I'm in! I'm in! Let's do it!
Positive experience? Check. Feeling good about moving forward with this person? Check. Happy I made the decision to switch from my doctor? Double check.
Hooray for pregnancy!
My sister, on the left, is 29 weeks. I'm 25 weeks.
In Penelope-related news, potty training has finally turned a corner. Saturday morning was rather disastrous, but since about 11 a.m. on that day, Penelope has had not one accident. Well, she did poop in the bath tub last night, but poop is still a little unmastered. It's the peeing I was tearing my hair out over, and that she has done on the potty every daytime episode. That's my girl!
And finally, her latest line that kills me: she's taken to saying, when she's crying or about to cry, "I want to be happy!" It's so pitiful, particularly when her eyes are big and shining and her mouth is curled and trembling. "I want to be happy," spoken not necessarily in response to any particular slight or injustice, but posed almost as a response to some existential crisis.
Kills me!
But the whole visit was an ah-ha moment!
First of all, I was afraid the visit would be rushed. I didn't get called back until 25 minutes past my appointment time, and the nurse who took my weight and blood pressure was extremely rushed. She said she needed to get me back to see Jenny, because Jenny needed to get to the hospital. I imagined myself saying, "I know you're in a hurry, but I have just a couple questions!" I imagined the complete absence of the ah-ha moment. Ah-ha moment in the negative.
But when Jenny came in, accompanied by a doctor-in-training, she did not seem even a little rushed, and I felt right at ease. She started out by clarifying, "You were seeing someone else, right?" I explained that I just didn't click with the other person. I intended not to say anything specific or snarky about the doctor, but I was not entirely successful--but she also remarked, at one point as she looked at my chart, "The person you were seeing before is not the best at documenting things." GREAT. So anyway. It's not like I was badmouthing her best friend.
I feel comfortable that she won't induce me needlessly. Nor will she do an episiotomy; she says she hasn't cut a perineum in four years. She says, "We were made to have babies." She seems to take that philosophy to the ends of her practice of caring for moms-to-be, and that's the kind of philosophy I'm looking for.
She asked me to read The Birth Book by Dr. Sears, which I've ordered from Amazon. She also asked me to start drinking a gallon of water every day, which I managed to do today. And she asked me to eat better and to exercise more. Well... I'm writing this entry instead of going for a walk, but I did eat a salad and a baked potato for dinner, and I feel committed to making healthier choices at my next visit to the grocery store.
I asked her how likely it was that she would be the one to deliver my baby; she said very. I said, "What if you aren't on call?" She said, "They call me anyway." The only potential conflict is that her daughter graduates from middle school on June 8, but that would put me almost two weeks overdue, and that probably won't happen (knock on wood), at least labor on that particular date probably won't happen. She indicated as well that she makes an effort to be there for her patients who actually want midwife care, who actually want her, perhaps moreso than she might for her patients who don't seem to care and who call her "doctor" and don't recognize the difference.
She said delivering babies is her favorite part of her job, and helping women feel empowered. She's fine with letting you have the drugs, and I'm pretty sure I want the drugs, but she says the empowerment isn't about having the drugs or not. So, anyway, I'm in! I'm in! Let's do it!
Positive experience? Check. Feeling good about moving forward with this person? Check. Happy I made the decision to switch from my doctor? Double check.
Hooray for pregnancy!
My sister, on the left, is 29 weeks. I'm 25 weeks.
In Penelope-related news, potty training has finally turned a corner. Saturday morning was rather disastrous, but since about 11 a.m. on that day, Penelope has had not one accident. Well, she did poop in the bath tub last night, but poop is still a little unmastered. It's the peeing I was tearing my hair out over, and that she has done on the potty every daytime episode. That's my girl!
And finally, her latest line that kills me: she's taken to saying, when she's crying or about to cry, "I want to be happy!" It's so pitiful, particularly when her eyes are big and shining and her mouth is curled and trembling. "I want to be happy," spoken not necessarily in response to any particular slight or injustice, but posed almost as a response to some existential crisis.
Kills me!