Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Dreams vs Reality in the Dr's Office

Today I had an appointment with Dr. Eck. 

It should have gone like this:
  1. Drive to the clinic, singing aloud to my baby girl.
  2. Sit in the waiting room, comparing my belly size to others' bellies.
  3. Enter doctor's office, get on scale.  
  4. Look at numbers out of the corner of my eye.  
  5. Think "Eee-gad! She's getting big (not me)!"
  6. Go into room.
  7. Listen to baby girl's heartbeat.
  8. Thank God for her heartbeat.
  9. Listen to heartbeat.
  10. Thank God for heartbeat.
  11. Listen to heartbeat.
  12. Thank God for heartbeat.
  13. Repeat #7-12 hundreds of times.
  14. Thank the nurse.
  15. Doctor enters.
  16. Everything's fine.  
  17. See you later, doctor.  Like when I'm 8 months pregnant.
Dream doctor's appointment.  Complete with puppies and rainbows.

Instead, it went like this:
  1. Drive in silence to clinic.
  2. Meet Dave outside the clinic.
  3. Walk into the clinic.  The smell of it brings me to tears--old coffee, old people (no offense to you oldies), and medicine.  Bleh.
  4. Get to office.  Look around.  
  5. There are plenty of teenagers, equipped with baby bellies sitting there with me.  Accompanying the said teenagers are their boyfriends. Boyfriends all seem to be part of "Bone Thugs N Harmony."
  6. Sit down.  Dave chooses the chair I was sitting in at my last appointment.  When she was dead and I had no idea.
  7. Get called back.  Get my weight.  Good news- I am lower than my last appointment.  Bad news- it's because my daughter isn't in me anymore.  I'd rather be 3,000 pounds than without her.  I'd totally beached-whale-it-up this summer if it meant having her around. I'd even clean her poo out of the pool.
  8. Go into the room.  Good news- it's a different room than my last appointment.  Bad news- it's the same nurse.  She asks how we're doing.  Um, yeah.  I cry.  That pretty much answers her question.  And then she says, "You probably didn't want to see me, huh?"  Welp, pretty much.  But, I lie and tell her I'm happy to see her.
  9. She takes my blood pressure.  Good news- I have my toes painted and my legs freshly shorn.  Bad news- I get to wear a cloth gown again.  Awesome.
  10. We wait awhile and watch a PowerPoint advertising different operations, etc.  One part even advertised prenatal classes.  "Your Birth Experience" was one.  Huh--do you think it covers the topic "Your Birth Experience when your child is not living?"  We would have signed up for that one.
  11. Dr. Eck comes in.  I cry.  In a cloth gown that doesn't tie. I get an examination.  Again, if this is the epitome of hotness for a wife, I don't know what is.  Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot, like me?  This would be playing if there was a soundtrack for my life.
  12. We talk with Dr. Eck for awhile about the future, our options.  I'll spare you the details.
  13. When doctor leaves she says, "I'll see you sometime."  As in, "I'll see you when your body decides to freaking work."
  14. Dave and I leave.  
  15. Bone Thugs N Harmony dudes are still waiting out in the waiting room.  Soundtrack changes. Except I don't know any of their songs.  So never-mind.
  16. Ask God why.
  17. Repeat 16 about 286 times. 
Krazie Bone, Layzie Bone, Bizzy Bone, Wish Bone, and Flesh-n-Bone outside the clinic in Hutch.  Life totally seems fair. Bleh.


  1. Sounds like a miserable experience. I, too, ask "Why?"

  2. Rachel, I saw this in a newsletter from a ministry we support and thought of your understandable question, "Why?" It is about how Jesus experienced the “Why?” too. Hope it's ok to share it here...The author writes:

    "Have you ever thought about Jesus' cry on the cross, 'Father, Father, WHY have you forsaken Me?' May I paraphrase, 'Daddy, Daddy, WHY have you left me? I did what You asked and You have forsaken me. And I can't remember WHY?' God is silent. 'Father, we've never been separated. It feels like You've left Me here alone. Nevertheless, I will trust you. Into Your hands I commit My Spirit!' Jesus entrusted His spirit into the arms of One He could not feel, see or perceive. I personally believe the most painful part of Jesus' death was the fact that it felt like God had forsaken Him and He couldn't remember why.'”

    The author continues, “Three weeks ago, our family suffered a painful blow. Our daughter was home alone when suddenly her baby boy was born prematurely. Unable to get her phone, she held and sang to little Joshua Daniel. Her husband came home and called 911. Paramedics called for two life-flight helicopters, one for our grandson and the other for our daughter who was hemorrhaging. Our daughter made it to the hospital in time, but just minutes from the hospital baby Joshua grabbed Jesus' finger and didn't let go.”

    “There are times in life when nothing makes sense and all you can do is surround yourself with those who love you, gaze in to the the eyes of Perfect Love and breathe, while your heart cries out, 'This doesn't make any sense! My circumstances threaten to accuse You, God. But I know there is not even a shadow of cruelty in Your heart. This I know: You are good. Therefore, into your hands I commit my life, my heart and my spirit, and even...this precious life!”

    “Every cross has an unanswered why...”

    (Written by Rhonda Calhoun, Harvest Home Ministries in Missouri.)


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