The doctor is in ... and in ... and in ...

So when you are over 35 and pregnant and when you have a history of loss, you spend way too much time with doctors. And we didn't even get to fertility specialists because we couldn't afford that.

It was never my intention to be what some doctors call a "geriatric pregnancy," but which my amazing doctor so thoughtfully labeled it, AMA, or Advanced Maternal Age. I mean it's not much better, but geriatric? Lord.

Yeah, it took me a long time to come around to the idea of having a child. In elementary school, I loooved Cheaper By the Dozen and thought 12 kids sounded great but clearly, I came to my senses.

When we were engaged, Mark refuuuhuused to cut his hair before our wedding because "I want our kids to see how cool their dad used to be." 🙄

When we got married, the inevitable "So when are you going to have kids?!?" reared its ugly head probably at our wedding. And my answer was always 6-7 years.

But three years in, Katrina left us homeless and with nothing but our cats, my photo albums, and the clothes on our backs. We spent two years with my parents before buying our home. That brought us to 5 years.

Somewhere in all of that mess, my depression spiral was too great and I lost the ability to care about a lot of things. Having a child became one of those things. I didn't see how we could. We had to rebuild our lives. I pushed it out of my head and decided that whatever, I didn't want kids. And I truly believe that I truly didn't.

The year of our tenth anniversary, I was surprised to discover I was pregnant. 99% effective, my ass. But by that point, I'd started wondering already whether or not I did maybe want kids. It didn't take long to warm to the idea. I was pregnant. This was happening. I was excited. I was destroyed. Not once. Not twice. But five times. And with each loss, I wanted it more fiercely and felt the futility deepen.

My regular OB/GYN, Dr. L, I'll call her, because while I don't call her by her first name to her face, I would always refer to her to the friend who recommended her to me, to my mom, and to Mark by her first name. I saw her so often, we really should have been on a first-name basis.

In fact, in her office, all patients are "Ms. Lastname." Very rarely do they use your first name. Which is fine, unless you have a name that gets mispronounced a lot. And when there's someone you don't see often enough, you don't bother correcting them because whatever. You see her once a year and she doesn't usually say your first name anyway. But then you go lord knows how many times for constant testing and growth checks and ultrasounds and follow-up appointments through four pregnancies and losses (remember, five was so early and it handled itself quickly, so I didn't call her about it), then a successful pregnancy that is high risk for a bunch of reasons... and you wish you'd gotten her to not say Amy all this time.

Anyway, with each loss, she would offer comfort and encouragement. She ran tests and sent me to her friend, the Maternal-Fetal Medicine Specialist. Also a Dr. C last name. That's why I've decided to use L as my regular doctor here. She's from Down the Bayou and has a pronounced Cajun accent. She is divorced and didn't have kids. But she has a cat and had a boyfriend with kids during most of this time. She's utterly ridiculous and I love her. She's seen me cry and made me laugh over and over and over again, more than anyone who has never shared my home.

I used to go to the same doctor as my mom. He delivered my brother. His brother was my dentist. Annnnd they grew up with my dad. Awk-warrrrrd. I never wanted to go to him but wasn't given a choice. He was moving out of patients of child-bearing age, and I could tell he wasn't really interested in seeing me (even though, at the time, that was years away). I asked around and had a friend tell me about L. I went and was immediately in love with this crazy doctor. And I really don't think there's any medical professional I'd rather have in my corner.

When she did my D and C, she showed up in a rhinestone Saints hoodie and her scrubs. She talked all about her boyfriend's kids and the trips they would take. She came out and fussed at Mark in the parking lot (more on that later) and apologized profusely to me in person and on the phone and through a staff member haha. She also potty-trained her cat and told me about it. Basically, that made her a goddess in my eyes.

Anyway, my first visit ended up being at 9 weeks because the tornado postponed my original appointment at 8 weeks. Remember, she usually saw me the day I tested positive, but I didn't want the false hope again and waited to call her.

Because it was still early, I got that lovely transvaginal ultrasound for a while. It was really the only kind I'd ever had at that point. She wanted me every week through the first trimester, for sure. So I went once a week every week until week 34 (more later). There were two weeks in a row with the bleeding (see earlier post). Then I had four trips to the MFM doctor. Plus blood work every week through the first trimester. And the genetic blood work at a whole different lab. (The joys of getting pregnant at 35...) as we entered the second trimester, we also entered my summer break. She started to say that I didn't have to come in every week and could go every other week. I think she saw the fear in my eyes She offered that since I WAS high risk and since it WAS summer and since she knew I'd be home worrying all summer, she would go ahead and see me every week "to give me something to do." She was going to slack off once I felt him move more consistently.

Those early movements, by the way, are so weird. It's like someone lightly dragging their fingers down the insides of your abdomen. Then it progresses to fluttery gas bubbles. Then it's a kick that moves the outside of your stomach. It's insane. And I miss it. I loved watching my stomach lurch like something was about to poke through the skin at any moment.

And you get phantom ones at first when the baby arrives. I had to keep reminding myself that he was in my arms, not my uterus.

The MFM doctor, Dr. C, is super intense. The two of them are best friends. And each talks shit lovingly about the other. It's hilarious. My cousin had twins and also saw Dr. C. This woman is something else. She told my cousin, "Your boy is very cute. But your girl has daddy's nose." My mom said her hair stylist told her her friend saw Dr. C, who told her "Oh, you baby ugly!" My friend, who works in L and D, said she's seen her in action. She told a patient "Push! You have the biggest vagina I've seen! This should be easy for you!"

So, when she kicked the ultrasound to 4D, she looked at it and said "You have very cute baby!" ... well, I was on cloud nine. She didn't just say that to everyone.

She's very thorough. She's very intimidating. But I'm glad I had her. I felt like the two of them would get me through this, and they did.

When I went for my glucose test, it was the day our seniors and their 8th grade little brothers and sisters had a get-to-know-you breakfast. I was in charge of getting the food, as senior adviser. I picked up donuts I couldn't eat. I got myself a breakfast plate of eggs and bacon, because the nurse suggested that. But my keen pregnancy nose was so jealous of the kids eating donuts.

And I failed that one-hour glucose test. I had to do the three-hour one.

On the way there, Mark's car acted up. We made it, he dropped me off, and I started my test. The lab is two doors down from my doctor. Her business manager came in the lab to see if anyone owned a car blocking parking spaces. Nope.

Come to find out, it was Mark's car. He thought maybe he had run out of gas and grabbed his gas can, then walked to fill it. That ended up not being the problem. It was the alternator. But my doctor pulled up while he was waiting for the tow truck to come, and she didn't realize who he was. I guess she had been delivering a baby at the hospital. She was pissed because he was able to push the car into three spots, parked sideways. She was pissed because the car was blocking spots in her lot. She finally realized who he was and backed down.

In the meantime, he was going to ride in the tow truck. A friend of mine was texting me encouragement. She had her kids in school and her baby in day care. She drove over to keep me company since Mark couldn't. Then she gave me a ride and we got lunch because fasting and drinking that nasty solution? While pregnant? I was ravenous.

Thankfully, I passed that test. The day that she told me that, my blood pressure was very high. The nurse brought me to the exam room and when L came in, she said she wanted to leave me there to see if I could calm down. Then if it was still high, she'd tell me what she would do. Thankfully, she didn't tell me right then that had my blood pressure been high, I would have been in the ER. Thankfully, my blood pressure went down. I had to start monitoring my blood pressure several times a day from that point on. I had my dad's old cuff, so no problem there. It was just a freak incident. Never went high again.

At 34 weeks, I had to start going to her twice a week for Non Stress Tests. I got hooked up to a monitor which watches baby movement and heartbeat. It could be half an hour. It could be an hour. Just depended. It was at a loud volume. Always funny and so loud if he kicked near the sensors. But there was nothing more hilarious than when he got the hiccups one day. L came in and said she could hear it in the triage room at the front of the office. Whoops!

He got the hiccups so often. It drove me nuts when it went on and on.

Anyway, from weeks 9-33, I had two emergency visits, three MFM visits, the glucose test days, the Downs testing, and 25 regular doctor visits. From weeks 34-39, I had one MFM visit, 12 regular doctor/NST visits, my pre-op day, and an induction. Then I had a two-week and six-week post baby visits. And at three months, I had my regular annual exam. And then pediatric visits! More on that later.

I lived in doctor's offices. And hooked up to machines. And getting blood drawn.

I went through progesterone, prenatals without DHA, aspirin, a mega-B vitamin via prescription, and all of the things you abstain from while pregnant. I had limited activity and total pelvic rest. I couldn't lift anything heavier than a milk jug.

I also did three childbirth classes with Mark and the breastfeeding class with Mark, Jessica, and her husband.

When I suddenly didn't have to do this, I was at a loss. Like I'd suffered from Stockholm Syndrome.

I found that while I didn't really miss Dr. C., I missed L. And her nurse. And the receptionist. And the business manager, who I saw frequently if the receptionist or nurse wasn't around.

It was weird but also wonderful not having to drive way to to BFE any more. To not have appointments. To have this little baby in my arms.

But the best part of all of the visits? I got several free 4D ultrasounds from Dr. C. because it was important for diagnosis and monitoring of the fetus. I also have a ton of regular ultrasounds from L because she did so many in the beginning. Then it became an every month thing.

People were jealous of how often I could see him. People were jealous of the 4D ultrasounds that I didn't pay for. But what most fail to realize is how I earned those. It wasn't easy. It wasn't fun. And it certainly wasn't fun.