“You must have been immense.”

12 06 2007

I wrote this in April, before announcing my pregnancy, and I totally forgot about it. I just found it, reread it, and now I’m mad again! And now I want cake! BRING ON THE CAKE!

I went for the first of 10 appointments of my pregnancy today. It was a different experience for me than the one I had when I was pregnant with Ethan. With him, the first of my appointments began in Belgium. We had to travel off the post and attempt to find the hospital in the town of Mons, with only the directions given us by a woman who spoke very little English. We were late, since we had some difficulty navigating the narrow Belgian streets, but were happy to find that the doctor treating me was, thank God, British! I wasn’t looking forward to trying to comminucate medically with a language barrier.

My excitement vanished, however, when she told me to disrobe. Right there in the room. With her, a nurse, and my husband all watching (yeah, I know, he’s my husband, but dude, that’s just another face in the crowd when you’ve got an audience watching you undress in a chilly hospital room in a foreign country). And then walk across the room, naked from the waist down, climb up on the table and put my feet in the stirrups for my internal ultrasound.

“I don’t get, like, a robe? Or a sheet, or anything?” I asked. She said, no, that if I wanted one she’d have to go searching the hospital for a clean one, and who knew how long that would take. She made sure that her tone of voice conveyed how huge of an inconvenience this would be for her. Looking back, I now realize that I should have replied “Ok. And while you’re out searching for my robe, make sure you don’t accidentally walk off a cliff. Because I really don’t want to have to wait around for another doctor to come replace you. That would seriously inconvenience me.” But, in true Caley fashion, I obeyed my authority figure and did as I was told.

The humiliation I felt during that visit will always be fresh in my mind, I’m afraid. Thankfully, the remainder of my OB visits as well as my delivery took place with civillian establishments, here in the States. Jeff’s duty station at the time was at a very small post in Maryland, and the doctor’s office I was seen at for regular check ups was not militarily related in any way. Same for the hospital where Ethan was born- just a regular, public hospital, that happened to be located approximately 3 minutes from our house. Very convenient.

I liked the OBs I saw at the private practice throughout that pregnancy. All except one. There were maybe 5 or 6 of them, and I was seen by 4 of them. One of them, though, was on my List from the minute I met him, when he walked into the room where I was waiting and the first thing he said was “Wow… You seem to have gained quite a bit of weight since your last visit…” He then went on to be even more rude. But dude, c’mon; everybody knows you don’t start a conversation with a pregnant woman with her weight! I don’t care if you ARE the doctor. Bad move.

So anyway, back to today’s visit…

Unlike last time, this pregnancy not only will I be seen at the same location throughout, but I’ll also only be seen by one doctor, the same doctor who will deliver the baby in December. My appointment today was with the OB coordinator, who had me filling out paperwork for two hours (I spent an additional hour on top of that having labs done). But despite all the work she had me doing, filling out my birthdate, SSN, information about past pregnancies, etc., over and over and over again, I liked her. She wasn’t stuffy, or rude; she was very straightforward, very likeable, and funny. Another of the differences between my last pregnancy and this one would be that any time I needed anything- to schedule a check up, to make a doctor’s appointment not pregnancy-related, if I had a question, anything– I would do so through her. She is also the same person who leads the tour of the hospital and the labor/delivery class. So I thought, it’s a good thing I like her, since I’m going to be seeing a lot of her.

But then. There’s always a ‘but then’ with me, isn’t there?

Then she made the mistake of telling me that under no circumstances was I to gain more than 25 pounds with this pregnancy. I then told her “Well, I gained 40 with my son.” She looked shocked- her mouth actually dropped open- and she said “Do NOT repeat that with this one.” I replied that even at the end of my pregnancy, despite the 40-pound gain, I still didn’t weigh THAT much at 163 pounds. She looked at me and said “You must have been immense. You won’t be doing that this time around, hon.”

Jeff can attest to the fact that I have told him more than once that I plan to eat much healthier this time. While pregnant with Ethan, for the first time in my life, I felt allowed to eat whatever I wanted. And I did. My only restrictions were foods not safe to eat during pregnancy, like deli meats and too much tuna, for example. Everything else: look out. Cause if I found it, I would eat it. Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar crunch, English muffins with peanut butter, and tons and tons of Italian ice were a few of my favorites.

But since Ethan was born in the summer, and he was my first (meaning I didn’t have any other little ones to take care of), I had a pretty easy time losing that weight. I took long walks, sometimes two a day, and I competely changed my eating habits, cutting out a ton of the fatty foods I ate altogether, drinking lots and lots of water, and making an effort to eat more fruits and vegetables.

This time, I know I won’t have the nice weather I had in June to encourage me to get out for exercise, since it’ll be December. And I won’t only have myself to think about like last time, either; Ethan’s not exactly going to agree to sit in the stroller for hours and hours everyday so that I can burn calories. Besides the fact that I have totally noticed the benefits I feel from eating a much healthier diet- I just plain don’t want to eat all that garbage I happily gobbled up last time. I’m proud of the fact that I was able to lose all my pregnancy weight, and, thanks to a healthy lifestyle that I have maintaine for the past 2 years, an extra three pounds on top of that, and I don’t have any plans to mess that up.

(Of course, I say this now. I could very well be singing an entirely different tune come week 32…)

And here is the woman I’ve just decided that I like, sitting there in her white coat, telling me that I’d better not gain any more than 25 pounds. Don’t I, as a woman, as a pregnant woman, who has dealt with eating issues in the past, have enough pressure on me? Shouldn’t she be saying to me: “We would like to see you gain no more than 25 pounds, but, every woman is different, you might gain more, you might gain less. We’d really be happiest, though, if you stuck to a healthy diet, didn’t overdue it too much, and just didn’t put too much stock in the numbers. Now, have a nice day and a lovely pregnancy.”

She should be saying that, yes. But she did not. So what did I do?

chocolate-cake1.jpgI went home. I grabbed the plate a neighbor had brought over the day before with the biggest, yummiest looking piece of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting on top and vanilla frosting in between the layers, and a fork. And I ate. the. whole. thing.

Here’s to as much freaking weight as I want to gain, doctor.



6 responses

13 06 2007

I wanted chocolate cake before I read your post, but now… now that I’ve seen it… I think I should send my husband out for some. At midnight. Because I’m a mean pregnant woman πŸ™‚

And that woman needs to stop being evil! I’m *very* overweight, and they told me how much I should gain, but they didn’t stress about it. To be that rude, man… awful!

13 06 2007

I remember hearing this story right after it happened, and I still can’t believe it! It sounds like she wants you to stop eating altogether once you hit the magic number…and that can’t be good for #2 at all.

Anyway, let me know about dinner next week…you might be able to convince me to make a cake!

19 06 2007

Krista: When you send your husband out at midnight for something, does he go? Mine doesn’t. 😦 Apparently, my husband keeps “business hours.”

Meg: I know! What’s she gonna do when I DO reach that number? WHAT THEN?

20 06 2007

Nah, it was just wishful thinking. πŸ™‚ My husband’s good about getting me stuff, but at midnight? It won’t happy *grin*

20 06 2007

Er, happen. I speak English. Sometimes. πŸ™‚

20 06 2007

Caley, you have my permission to eat as much chocolate cake as you desire. The baby will appreciate it. πŸ™‚

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