29 years old. Mom to a 2.5 year old and a 3 month old. Middle of July in Boston*. Yeast infection. Yep. Apparently no sleep, lack of a diet and anxiety can do that to a woman after giving birth. Who knew?
Gave my OBGYN a ring-a-ding. She could see me in 2 days, the only day my husband could not miss his work meeting that week. She wouldn’t just prescribe something because how can she make money from that? It’s not like her office had recently billed my insurance company for $18,142 for the birth of my daughter.
My husband asked with trepidation, “why don’t you get a sitter to watch the kids for your appointment?”
He asked with caution because the poor man watched a very traumatic birth of my daughter and had been watching me slowly unravel for the past 3 months. He even had to witness me peeing my pants a week after my daughter was born. 'Cause, ya know, the benefits of Kegel exercises hadn't kicked in yet a week after pushing the second giant baby out of my va-jay-jay.
I grumbled, “I’ll be fine." (Because, HELLO?, I was a stay-at-home mom and this was my JOB.)
The day of the appointment arrived. I made sure my son had a fully charged iPhone to watch Sesame Street during the appointment, and nursed my daughter right before to make sure she wasn’t hungry. It was all planned out. How bad could it be? We walked over to the doctor’s office (the only good thing about this doctor was that it was within walking distance to the apartment). If you know anything about Boston, you know that there is always a university or hospital within walking distance (and a Starbucks full of arrogant academics having pissing contests about who’s degree is bigger).
The doctor made me wait for 20 minutes in the waiting room and 40 minutes in the smallest examination room I’ve ever seen in her office, with my stroller in tow. I guess the larger offices are only for when you are pregnant. My son was already bored from Sesame Street and my daughter had fallen asleep (which would have been a great thing had the doctor not kept me waiting).
She came in with what can only be described as a 12-year-old girl, and asked if it was okay if this "high school" student, who was interested in medicine, observed the appointment. “I guess so,” I answered, while my eyes were fixated on my sleeping baby who was starting to wake.
Feet in the stirrups. Off we went.
The doctor started making small talk, while my son looked extremely concerned with what was happening and my daughter made her pooping face. Two seconds later, the pacifier came out, you hear a gigantic explosion, followed by a stench and a terrifying wail of cries which triggered my boobs to start leaking.
Feet still in stirrups, doctor STILL talking, and the 12-year-old girl looked like she was going to cry. “Music! Music! Music!” by Elmo suddenly blasted from the iPhone, and my two-year-old son came up to my head and asked, “go to park?”.
Sooooooo… that was a good day.
I can’t even tell you that was the last time I took on something so ridiculous, because I remained stubborn for at least a year before admitting that I needed an outlet, and a babysitter, to get myself back to sane.
Moms, please take care of yourself and ask for help. Rely on other people when you are struggling. Sometimes your friends and family are waiting for you to ask… not wanting to overstep their boundaries by offering first. And if your doctor asks if a tween can learn from your OBGYN appointment in a small room that is already filled with 2 children, a stroller and you with your legs in stirrups… tell her very emphatically (again, my editor won’t let me use the F word)…
* Why is it important that I tell you I was in Boston? Let’s just say that this Jersey Girl was not meant to be living in Boston. If you’d like a detailed explanation as to why, please contact me.