Since leaving the care of my midwives in December, I have seen two different OBGYNs and my family doctor. I had to retell my story every time, and non of them seemed to really be able to (or in the case of the second OBGYN) really want to help me. They were all kind of walking blindly into the middle of my story.
My family doctor is still in my home town, but David and I moved about 45 minutes west of there before I got pregnant, so my doctor wasn’t a part of that process. So going back to see him, he did what he could do considering the distance.
When David and I started discussing the process of trying again, we agreed that the fertility specialist we used to get pregnant with Lily (Doctor H) was just too far away, and it was going to be too inconvenient for me to drive to her for cycle monitoring three times a week. But our perspectives started to change as the healing process dragged on.
I started to change my mind first. As I retold my story over and over and thought about the early days with Doctor H when we had to go through a tonne of blood tests and other tests before we could get going. The idea of starting at ground zero with another stranger was unappealing, especially with the clock above my head counting down to our agreed deadline for trying. I felt like we were already spinning our wheels as my healing took longer than anticipated, and I knew if we went back to Doctor H we could more easily hit the ground running.
A couple of weeks ago now I was on the phone with the second OBGYN I mentioned before, I was still spotting at that point and I have to admit I was at my braking point, comparing how long I had bled after delivering Lily to how long I had actually been pregnant with her. I was freaking out that soon the length of bleeding would surpass the length of time I’d been pregnant. The doctor was very dismissive, and didn’t offer any explanation, and didn’t see the need to see me. That night my mood was foul. I kept snapping at David for no good reason, and it wasn’t until he called me on it that I realized just how upset I was.
I had a little temper tantrum… I felt like I was trying to take care of myself, but I didn’t know how. I felt like I was reaching out to the doctors for help but like none of them was actually willing to take responsibility of me and give me the care I needed. I felt like I had been thrown into a dark forest, with no map and not even a flashlight to help me find my way. The last time I had felt taken care of was when I was under the care of the midwives and before that when I was under the care of Doctor H.
I explained all of this to David and he listened patiently. He hugged me while I sobbed. I felt much better after that release of emotion, and I apologized for my unpleasantness. David told me he’d take care of me. The next day while I was at work he texted me to let me know he had set up an appointment for me with Doctor H. and that she would be doing a wellness check with me at that appointment and discussing our next steps.
Almost as soon as I knew I was going to see someone I trusted to take care of me, I started to relax. The spotting FINALLY stopped! I started to feel more like myself. The cloud of fear and sadness and doubt started to shrink. The clock is still sitting there above my head, but the numbers are fuzzier because we’ve decided to leave it a little more open ended for the time being. I’m so glad I’m going to go back to Doctor H, even though the appointment is still almost three weeks away. I feel like I’m finally being taken care of.