Choosing care options for pregnancy and birth can be pretty daunting.
For one thing there are a lot out there, and for another, you pretty much have to make the decision when you feel the lousiest, ie the first couple of months.
There’s public and private, shared care, home birth and I’m sure plenty I never thought of.
At 12 weeks, I was already finding some obstetricians booked out.
Makes me think I need to start looking for high school options soon.
It was all pretty stressful until we finally decided how we were approaching medical care.
In the end, I chose an OB on the strength of his assistant.
She told me how everything worked payment wise clearly and patiently, along with how often I would have to see the doctor and the hospital where he delivered.
I arrived at my first appointment quite excited, yet still not visibly pregnant.
I walked up to the assistant’s desk. “You must be Frances,” she said, and pointed me to a basket of sample jars.
I would have to provide one every appointment.
I went and filled it, as asked, then went back to wait for my turn.
My attention turned to a collage of baby photos and thank you notes that decorated the wall.
While I waited I took a moment to look at their tiny faces, wondering what my baby would look like.
I also looked at the proud parents and how happy they were.
I noticed that one man was pictured holding two different babies.
Oh well that’s nice, I thought, that family came back, so he must be pretty good.
Then I saw him a third time, then a fourth before I realised my mistake.
It was, of course, a photo of my new doctor, posing with the children he’d helped guide into the world.
My name was called and I went into my doctor’s office, placing my sample into his offered hand before I realised he was actually trying to greet me with a handshake.
Thankfully he is as nice as his assistant and laughed good-naturedly at my gaff, saying “yes, well I need that too.”
I think me and my baby are going to get along just fine with him.