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Pregnancy is no fun. Besides the bizarre ways that your body behaves, your subsequent visits to the gyno make you feel worse. Those women who have a heightened detest for anyone touching them even in a friendly way (let alone someone touching your tummy out of curiosity) would find these visits the worst. Right from confirming your pregnancy to a hundred fingers feeling inside you – there is nothing entertaining about it! To top it all, if you see a gyno who turns out to be a little less friendly than you thought, it can be pretty demoralizing. Guess what; you gotta be bold enough and change your gyno, never mind if it has to be an instantaneous decision.
I did that twice! Yes, twice, unlike in the first pregnancy when I stuck to one doctor – about whom we later realized that we shouldn’t have shown that amount of loyalty as he was hell-bent on doing a C-section on me. First time there was no prior experience and also we bowed to the familial reputation of this doctor (the grandmother-mother-daughter trio are all gynecologists, not to forget that it was this grandmother who had delivered my mother!).
Given the fact that I had begun to have jitters in my gut already thinking about how excruciating labor was going to be, I gave into a C-section deal. Though the operation was performed on the due date, it could have waited. Apparently one can wait for 14 days after the due date. And ironically the doctor who delivered my mother had said so in her heydays. But given the corporate culture at hospitals now, she seemed to have amended her policies. They said my baby was fully-grown, and it was time she was brought out.
With my second pregnancy, we had moved into a new house. This time, we sought an appointment with a different doctor. With the confirmation of pregnancy, I was seeing her in the weeks that she recommended me to drop in. On one occasion, the appointment got a bit messed up with the waiting time getting lengthy and the line-up moving very tardy. I was exhausted. I felt sick and might have puked out anytime. And wanted to go home. So I indeed headed home hoping to reschedule the appointment.
I showed up again on the next earliest schedule given. This time, the doctor seemed to be waiting there as if in a state of vengeance for not seeing her at the appointed time. As I explained how I was feeling that day, she simply didn’t want to hear anything, except getting dictatorial. I thought, “This is it. If this woman cannot be compassionate towards me in the first trimester, then there is guarantee she would be any nice towards me around the due date.” We chose to go back to my first gyno for the confidence she had built in me owing to her sharp mind and subject matter expertise.
The lady seemed pretty happy seeing me again with my daughter being a little over two by now. The doctor herself looked more mature and experienced, her wisdom reflecting through the spectacles she had begun to wear by now. She was happy to take up my care from the second semester onwards. So, here I saw my first gyno on the scheduled dates, until the final trimester arrived.
Things began to look a bit unusual a few times. I had polyhydramnios – too much amniotic fluid. My bump looked so huge that people thought I was carrying two or more babies inside. My mobility was going down. The first time I got the whiff of it was when I felt my belly tightening. It felt like I would burst anytime. I would have to visit the loo every half an hour. I brought it to my doctor’s notice after having waited for 24 hours as the belly seemed to tighten so very often. After the visit, it turned out that it was Braxton-Hicks contractions that I was going through.
OK, so here I was given a few pills, and I began to feel better but for the tensions that began to mount in a few weeks time with the doctor. The lady was seemingly moving my due date ahead of time with every visit. She nearly fixed a date for a C-section four weeks ahead of time!
We were dubious about the vicious ways of a smart and capable doctor. Yes, C-section was something I would have gone ahead with, considering that the previous delivery had occurred through C-section, and I didn’t want to take the 1-5% risk that the doctors mentioned. But four weeks ahead of time was not something I was going to give in to. No, I was not going to allow her to hand over a preemie to me!
Finally, we wanted to zero in on a different doctor. This time, we went with the reference of my radiologist uncle who wielded some influence. This gynecologist happened to be a very senior doctor and his university colleague. She received me with much care and gentleness. After studying my history, she confirmed that we could wait until the due date. I was elated as I heard that. It came through as a discerning and genuine advice. Yes, I gave up on the former gyno who was rushing me into a premature delivery – without attempting to talk her out of it.
Four weeks later (around the due date) my son arrived into the world. The moment was worth enlivening when my daughter welcomed him with a huge grin, something I was less prepared for, so it came as a beautiful surprise!
So ladies, here’s a small nugget of wisdom from me. If you ever feel that your doctor or the medical crew does not understand your concerns, overlooks the pain you are in, pays little attention to what you want from he, or tries finding her corporate headway with no goodwill for you, simply switch over to a kinder doctor. You owe them nothing.
