Your O.B. needs to be O.K.

I had waited and prayed and waited and prayed. I had hoped and wished and continued to hope and continued to wish and then this summer it happened. Our family was going to be increasing by one, by one special person. We were no longer going to be a family of three but four, a perfect four.

I digested the news and unlike my first pregnancy I had a toddler to tend to so I kept going. I kept working, cleaning, and making sure everyone’s needs were being met in my home. Yet, while tending to everyone around me I was simultaneously fighting off waves of nausea and trying to quite my mind. Although my situation is slightly different than most due to the severity of some of my maladaptive behaviors I just like many individuals struggle with not only liking myself but also managing the never-ending voice in my head. However, I found as the weeks went on all these symptoms became more and more heightened and so I planned to share them at my upcoming O.B. appointment.

So when I arrived at my appointment I made sure to bring my list of questions and concerns, but then I began looking around and realized how different this waiting room was. Most other waiting rooms are filled with patients who need to be examined by doctors so their problems can be identified, medication can be administered and perhaps a plan of care can be developed. However, this waiting room was by far more special and complicated because everyone needed so much more, we were growing babies, real, perfect babies.

Soon my name was called and as my appointment went on I did ask my questions and yes, they were unique, however the answers were unacceptable. So, I pushed for more concrete answers. Yet, later I found myself sitting in my car thinking how wrong this all felt. I thought about how I just allowed myself to become vulnerable, how my hormones remain unmanageable, and how desperately in need of answers I was. I thought about how I shared real feelings of disliking myself as a mother, person, wife and friend. I thought about how clear I had myself by sharing the fact that I need to avoid all reflective services. I thought about how precise

I was when I pleaded to know exactly what to eat because I have never understood “normal eating.” Yet, I was told to give myself permission to feel this way.

So, as I sat in the car I realized I don’t want to feel this way, I don’t want to give myself permission to continue to feel this way, and I don’t know what the other women in the waiting room were feeling today but I hope their feelings are not like mine. I hope they demanded the answers they needed. I hope they were spoken to in a kind manner, and I hope they know they do not have to give themselves permission to feel not ok. They deserve to feel validated and know despite what they are feeling they are doing an amazing thing. So, moving forward I now know your O.B. has to be more than O.K. so you don’t end up sitting in your car wondering what happened.