I had a prenatal checkup today. My appointments tend to last just a few minutes and I never have to wait long so I really like the office I go to. What I didn’t like this time around was the conversation that I had with my Doc. I’m a little pissed about it actually and am now venting to you in hopes that I’ll stop thinking about it and move on with my day. The convo when a little like this:
Doc – “Blah, blah, blah. We’ll induce you at 39 weeks. Blah, blah, blah.”
Me – “Wait, you’ll do WHAT at 39 weeks? Did you say you’ll induce me? Why?”
Doc – “You have big babies and both kids were late. We don’t want the baby getting too big.”
Me – “Really, just because I tend to have big kids? I’m not okay with that.”
Doc – “Well, we’ll give you an ultrasound at 38 weeks and see what the kid is measuring.”
Me – “Okay.”
At that point I just wanted the conversation to end so I agreed to an ultrasound. I’m annoyed because my Doc just assumed that inducing me was kosher. It’s not. Plus it made me feel like a walking statistic for the office and not a patient that means anything to them. I really miss my old OB from the city more than ever! I know many people schedule inductions and I have nothing against those that do but I’m just not one of those people. Sure I’d love to get this pregnancy over sooner rather than later but that’s if the kid is ready or if there is a health problem with me or my baby. Not just because I tend to have big kids. That’s crap. I pushed O out in 2 pushes and he was 9 lbs. 9 oz. I’m sure all I’ll have to do is sneeze this time and, no matter the size of this kid, it’ll pop right out. In addition, in utero measurements aren’t an exact science and there is a lot of predictive error that goes along with those measurements, so to base an induction off of a guesstimate, no matter the methods used, seems silly to me and I just won’t do it!
Good thing I’ve got final say! Kiss my ass, Doctor.
Thanks for the vent. I’m gonna go whack a tennis ball into the wind for the dog now. Maybe hitting something will help in addition to venting and being farted on by my 4 year old. I told her she was gross and she said, “Well, sometimes princesses are gross.”