Today I had an appointment. You know, the appointment. The one that falls six weeks after birthing a child into the world. The one in which the doctor inspects things, visible and not-so-visible, to make sure that everything is in working order. The visit that brings up a green light in several areas of life. The one that causes many a mother to stress out about how things look and panic about being touched. I mean, do you remember internal exams during labor? None too comfortable! But, alas, it’s a necessary one. It’s normally good to make sure things have healed. And green lights are good.
I held off my shower until the last possible minute to assure cleanliness upon arrival. And then, of course, I had to wait forever because babies are always born at inopportune times! Didn’t that child know that I was sitting on an exam table, paper sheet around my expanded hip size, rocking LittleBrother’s car seat carrier with my foot? It was a balmy seventy degrees out today but that’s still rather chilly on a naked behind in a cold exam room.
Without being graphic, things checked out okay. And that’s always nice to hear. To boot, my doctor made me feel like a Superstar Mama for breastfeeding thus far, with only minor issue and planning on continuing long into the future. He went on and on, for quite some time, about the benefits. I didn’t bother telling him that he was preaching to the choir. But when he commented on LittleBrother’s chunking-out-cheeks, well, my pride soared a little. I did that! I did that!
But part of me is sad.
Say what?
That’s right. I’m sad. My doctor gave me a big ole bear hug at the end of the appointment. Probably not uber-professional. But I liked my doctor and my doctor liked me. (Not like that.) He cared for me and both of my parented children through two tumultuous pregnancies. He worked closely with me to ensure that the boys made it to term and were healthy and strong despite many complications. He shared laughter with us and consoled us when we had fears, when we had loss. And now? Well, our monthly-to-weekly meetings are now gone. For good. As LittleBrother will be the last one to join our family, I won’t have a reason to receive such stellar care in that manner. And, to make me even more sad, it wasn’t just my awesome doctor. I was close with at least one nurse (who was kind enough to pop in our room when I was in labor). And now? I’ll see them once a year if things go like they should health wise.
It’s the end of an era.
One would think I’d be glad to say goodbye to internal exams and peeing in a cup and sitting around with a chilly behind. But when your care is as good as mine was for both boys, well, it’s just kind of hard to say goodbye. That’s when you know that your care was top notch.
All that said: six weeks down, and, uh, a whole bunch more to go. (When do these kids turn eighteen? HA!)