So Long Doc

I had my annual hand-up-in-my-junk exam with my family doctor this morning. And of course I told him I want to have a baby.

While he was poking around in there, he gave me the statistics on all the awful things that babies can be born with to mothers who are in my age bracket. I have a 1 in 365 chance of having a baby born with Down Syndrome. I will have a harder time getting pregnant, and a greater risk of miscarrying or having to deliver via C-section, which could result in low birth weight and other complications in not carrying to term.

He asked me if I would want to do genetic testing.

Nope.

He asked me if I would terminate if I knew my baby had Downs.

NOPE.

"Okay, then I guess there's no real reason to do any prenatal screening other than the usual blood work."

GREAT.

Then he asked me if I had thought about who would be my primary physician for my pregnancy.

"I'm getting a midwife."

His face fell. He looked really disappointed.

"That makes sense, you probably wouldn't want to drive back and forth for appointments as you get further along in the pregnancy. It's better you find someone closer. Well, let me know if you need any copies of your medical records. Just call me and I can get those to your midwife."

OMG, I totally broke up with my doctor!  The doctor who has looked after me since I was nine years old. The doctor who saved my life by prescribing me anti-depressents after my first marriage fell apart. The doctor who would write me sick notes and not charge me $10.

"You'll come see me for the first appointment after you've become pregnant?"

Of course I will.