The clouds do part occasionally, even though I have been super grumpy about my last visit to the perinatologist, and I think it's worth mentioning that my obstetrician - that is, the one who will actually deliver this baby, the one who will be attending me in my hour of need, the one who will be helping me through really intense moments of self-doubt, the one who will sew me up if I tear, the one who is far more responsible for helping me to have a healthy baby than the perinatologist who sits comfortably in his office behind a computer making dire predictions about life and death - is far less concerned about this than I am.
"You're a worrier, aren't you?"
That was the obstetrician's question to me at my last visit. Half statement, half question, but he definitely nailed it. Yeah, I guess I am feeling a little jumpy about having my ability to give birth to a healthy baby called into question for the umpteenth time in five pregnancies. I guess the anxiety every time I see my blood sugar climbing up those sensor dots is palpable in the exam room. I suppose that when I talk as fast as I do during my visits, it's pretty plain to see that I think and stress about these things so often that I can't even put it all into words that will fit into a 15-minute office visit.
He told me I was a little big, but also said, "maybe you just grow your babies that way." He said it sounds like I'm doing everything I can. He was utterly un-phased by the ultrasound news. He said we could do the testing in his office, rather than sending me over to the perinatologist, except for the growth ultrasounds every few weeks. Thankfully at this point, I should only have two more growth ultrasound visits to that office to endure.
Why is it that I'm not able to absorb my OB's confidence? Why is it that the perinatologist's disapproval about the size of the baby and my fears about what the endocrinologist would say about the low blood sugars are totally winning right now?
Anyway, I thought it worth mentioning that the OB is really not worried, and he's the one I really need to impress. Not everything is going badly as a result of one (possibly inaccurate) ultrasound reading. But of course, if I'm honest, I'm still kinda grouchy and anxious, and it's not even about whether or not the baby will be healthy. I'm utterly convinced about the fact that I am capable and that this baby will emerge strong and healthy one way or another. Oh, isn't that the irony? How terribly miserable to be the slave of someone else's opinion of you when you know that opinion to be false!
From the desire of being approved, deliver me, Jesus.