I’ll admit it: I’ve never been one to care for going to the doctor’s office. Sure, during each of my pregnancies, I was eager for my regularly scheduled prenatal appointments at my OB-GYN’s office when they included ultrasounds of my babies. Beyond that, I dreaded checkups. Stepping on the scale, uncomfortable exams, bloodwork scripts . . . not my cup of tea.
After delivering each of my babies? My desire to step foot in that office dwindled even more. Until I switched providers — and stuck with one who makes me feel like I’m still human and deserve to be treated as such. To my OB and all those who treat patients like myself with the care and concern all mamas deserve to experience: thank you. Here’s to you.
A Letter to My OB
Dear Doctor — The One Who Sees Me,
I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m starting to come around to the idea of actually showing up for my appointments. I might have a history of rescheduling said appointments at the very last minute when I just can’t muster up the courage to face my demons, but I’m beginning to realize you really are on my team. And I’m so grateful for that.
Following the delivery of my first child by another doctor, I knew I couldn’t stick with her. As skilled as she is at what she does in the delivery (or, in my case, operating) room, I can’t say I ever felt like anything more than another number to her. Another pregnant woman, another surgery in the books, another postpartum mom needing nothing more than a mere prescription for anxiety meds and a swift “You’re all set!” on my way out the door.
The truth is, though — as you’ve reminded me — I’m not just a number. I’m not just another mom there to be moved along my way as quickly as I showed up for that first eight-week appointment. I’m not just a new (-ish, though it all still feels so fresh) mother in need of a one-size-fits-all recovery plan. As we’ve discussed, I’m worthwhile and worthy of whatever it is I need to, one day, find me again. I’m so grateful you’re there to remind me of that.
I’m so grateful you’re there to remind me to go easy on myself. To give myself grace for the challenges I’ve faced and will continue to face. Because in the spirit of keeping it real, postpartum doesn’t end a short six weeks after birth. I’m so grateful you’re there to cheer me on along this seemingly never-ending marathon back toward myself. To plead with me to make time for myself, to go on a date with my spouse, to look after number one. To remind me that I should still be number one on my priority list. And to remind me to chase after my sense of self-identity. I’m so grateful you see me.
I’m so grateful you’re there to reassure me that what I’m experiencing is normal. That not everyone simply loses the baby weight while breastfeeding. That my body is remarkable, incredible, and behaving exactly as it should for all it’s accomplished. That the extra weight won’t stick around forever, and even if it does . . . it doesn’t really matter. Because motherhood looks different for everyone, and it looks different on everyone. And as you’ve reminded me, that’s okay. It’s all okay. And it all will be.
I’m so grateful you’re there to applaud me for how far I’ve come in my breastfeeding journey. Even more, I’m just as grateful that you encourage me not to feel guilty for stopping at any given point. (I swear, that point is coming.) To give me the nudge that I, admittedly, so desperately need to reclaim my sleep, my sanity, and my body. I’m so grateful you’re there to beg me to reclaim myself.
I’m so grateful you’re there to remind me that there’s no reason to feel any less proud of myself for taking new shape in this season. As a person, as a woman, as a wife, and as a mother. I’m so grateful you’re there to remind me I’ve changed in each new chapter of this story because I’m supposed to — but at the very same time, to remind me it’s okay to work toward taking back parts of me I once knew. I’m so grateful you’re there to fight for me.
You see, dear OB, I’m just so grateful you see me — for me, nonetheless. Not just for my still-not-back-to-normal hormones. Not just for the number on the scale. Not just for my baby-fever-powered refusal of any sort of birth control. Not just for my postpartum anxiety. Not just for the roller coaster of emotions I’ve carried into your office and worn on my sleeve time and time again. Not for any of that.
And for all of that, dear OB, I want to thank you. We moms all need, deserve, and are worthy of a provider just like you.
Sincerely,
A Patient Who Will Be Forever Grateful To Have Found You
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