Ahhhh the search for an obstetrician!
When we had Oliver, I chose an OB-GYN at random from my insurance website. Hit the jackpot too. Our OB was wonderful. The hospital sucked, but we loved the doctor.
When we found out that I’m pregnant again, the search for an OB in our new town began. Again, I looked at our website, and asked around at our church for recommendations. Due to the horrible delivery ordeal we had, I wanted to go into this with my eyes open. I got some recommendations, and made some calls.
Due to personal preference, I am not comfortable with a male OB-GYN. I’m sure that they work wonderfully for others, but not for me. It seems like most of the practices around here are group practices, though, and I’ve yet to find an all-female practice. Here’s the rundown on my doctor search so far:
1. I had a few people recommend a doctor. I called her office, and spoke to the receptionist, who was pleasant enough. She mentioned that their practice is to rotate women through all of the doctors so that whoever is on call on the day of delivery isn’t unfamiliar to the patient. I asked if it was possible to rotate through the women and not the men. She said it might be possible, but I’d have to get the doctors’ permission first.
I don’t feel the need to get a doctor’s permission about whether or not I will see them. I did not make an appointment there.
2. I called another doctor’s office–no recommendations–from my insurance website. They said that it would be no problem for me to only see female doctors–they have 3 on staff, and the male doctors don’t do night rotations at all, so it would be extremely unlikely that I would need to be delivered by a man-doctor. I made the appointment.
Come appointment day, we went to the office. It was a bit of a madhouse–there must have been at least 10 people in the waiting room, and it seemed rather hectic. And the receptionists seemed a bit short with me. Conrad and I met with the doctor, and chatted with her. She seemed quite pleasant. I had also scheduled to get an annual exam done at that time, so Conrad took Oliver back to the car while I got my exam done.
During the exam, I mentioned that while pregnant with Oliver I gained 50 pounds. The doctor stopped in her tracks, looked at me, and said, “Well, you don’t want to do that this time.” Now, perhaps I should clarify here that I’m 5’1. I’m not overweight. And while I gained more than I would have liked the first time, I don’t think that it was unreasonable. I have since lost all of the weight, and fit into my prepregnancy clothes better than I did pre-pregnancy.
So, when she said that I don’t want to gain that much this time, I said that I didn’t want to. But I’m eating healthy, and taking care of myself. She said, “Do you eat bread? Pasta?”
Me: “Of course I do!”
Her: “You should cut those out of your diet.”
Me: “I’m not going to stop eating bread and pasta. I eat whole wheat bread, and I certainly don’t gorge on carbs.”
Her: “You should not eat pasta at all and you should eat no more than two slices of whole wheat bread a day, and with protein.”
So, I found that a little weird–I don’t ascribe to diets that involve cutting food groups out. I’m more inclined to go along with the food pyramid that I’ve heard about for years. I also asked her about coffee–fine, if I have two cups a day or less, she said. And I asked her about Diet Coke (which my last OB said to avoid if possible). She said that it was fine–drink as much as I wanted! 6 cans a day! Whatever! Again, odd, but yay for Diet Coke! (And no, I’m not drinking six cans a day–I know the risks of too much caffeine, and the question mark that is aspartame.) I figured she might be a bit quirky about the diet. I could deal with that–I’ve spent much of my life ignoring the stupid things that doctors have told me throughout the years.
Now, throughout the appointment, they didn’t confirm the pregnancy. They did bloodwork, but didn’t do a urine test. (Or, if they did they didn’t tell me.) When I was checking out, I made an appointment for an ultrasound the following week (tomorrow, actually). The receptionist (after taking an unreasonable amount of time to make me an appointment–it really took about 10 minutes for her to find an open spot the next week) made my appointment, and then said, “If anything changes and you need to cancel, just give us a call.”
I said, “What would change? I’m pregnant! I don’t just think so–I know it!” And she laughed and said, “I know. I was just kidding.”
Ummmm… you’re kidding about me having a miscarriage? That’s a funny joke to you? What kind of a receptionist are you–you know this is an office dedicated to delivering BABIES, right?
Even that, I was going to let slide. I think that grumpiness might be a prerequisite for receptionists these days.
They called me today to tell me the results of my annual, and to give me a prescription. She said she would call it into the pharmacy. Before we hung up, I said, realizing that it hadn’t been mentioned, “So, is this drug okay for me to take while pregnant?”
She said, “You’re pregnant?”
I said, “Yes, that’s why I CAME to the office!”
She said, “Oh, yes… I see right here… it says delayed menses. I’d better go check with the doctor if she still wants to give you this prescription.”
Turns out they didn’t. I have a new prescription–one that’s okay for pregnancy–and after my ultrasound tomorrow I’m going to start the quest for another doctor. I don’t think I’m comfortable with a doctor’s office that doesn’t look at my chart before prescribing me medicine. (Along with all the other weird things about them.)