The Baby Chronicles: What’s Up Doc?
As I’ve said before, I’m all in with this baby thing. I’m insanely excited about being a dad, so I want to do everything. Doing everything includes going to the doctor with my wife, and we had our first appointment this past Tuesday. It was definitely an experience for me, so I’m going to go ahead and document it for everyone.
We’ve been looking forward to our first visit with the doctor together, because we’re the kind of people who want to be as informed and prepared as possible. In my 33 years of life, I’ve never been to an OBGYN, probably because my equipment doesn’t require much maintenance. As long as it’s washed on a regular basis, it’s pretty much good to go.
Women, on the other hand, need constant care and attention with their lady parts. If body parts were cars, the penis would be a Honda. Just make sure the oil is fresh, and it’ll run forever. The vagina is more like a Ferrari. You need to make sure everything is tuned just right, because if anything is off, your beautiful Ferrari will be spending a lot of time in the shop. Women have an entire section at the drugstore dedicated to their lady parts. Men don’t have a penis section, unless you count the beer aisle.
We walked into the doctor’s office, and the first thing that I noticed was that there were a few older women in the waiting room. They were maybe 60, if not a bit older, so I was a little surprised. I didn’t even know that older women had vaginas. I always thought that after your baby making years were behind you, your vagina just sealed shut. I figured there’s just a scar where it used to be, or maybe a series of notches in the pelvic region, to show how many wars your vagina had been in, like a brave Indian warrior. Needless to say, I was thrown off by what I saw.
My wife signed in, and we took our seats in the waiting room. If you happen to see us during her pregnancy, I would like to offer my sincere apology to you. We’re pretty disgusting, with all of the hand holding, and “I love you’s” every 5 seconds. We’re just excited. I’m sure that shortly after she farts this baby out, we’ll go back to silent dinners, and not having sex. In the meantime, wheeeee! Anyway, we were sitting down and holding hands, like the nauseating idiots that we are.
Once my wife was called back to be seen, I stood up and followed her into the next room, like the clueless husband that I am. Our first stop was to take my wife’s blood pressure. Me and my wife both tend to have high blood pressure, but we take medication for it, and it’s usually not a problem. Hers was fine, and mine was probably through to roof. We weren’t there for me though, so we moved on, to the next station.
Our next stop was the scale. Right next to the scale was a sign that said “If you wish to be weighed privately, we are more than happy to weigh you discreetly.” Only a woman would want to be weighed privately. Your weight is what it is, and that’s that. I love MMA, and every fighter has be to a certain weight for their fights. I’m very surprised that in women’s MMA, that there isn’t a “none of your fucking business” weight class. Anyway, my wife stepped on the scale, and I did what any responsible man would do at a time like this. I looked at the floor and plugged my ears.
Up next was the sonogram. This was the part that I was looking forward to the most. My wife has been in pregnancy denial since we found out. Don’t get me wrong, because we both want a child very much. She was just thinking that the doctor would laugh at her, and tell her that she wasn’t even pregnant. Apparently 3 home pregnancy tests weren’t convincing enough for her.
So we walked into the sonogram room, and my wife sat on the bed, after changing into her gown, and I sat in a chair. There were stirrups at the end of the bed, but I was seated by my wife’s head, so I was safe, and unable to see the x-rated scene that was soon to come. A few minutes later, an overly chipper lady walked into the room. She told my wife to lay back, and place her feet in the stirrups, so my wife obliged. The lady then pulled out what I can only describe as a long, narrow dildo, with a cord attached to it. She put a condom on the dildo, and then covered it in lube. It now made sense why this lady was so chipper; she was clearly a lesbian who enjoyed her job very much. She inserted the object into my wife. Much to my dismay, my wife did not moan, ask me to spank her, or pull her hair. This was strictly business.
We then saw what the lady described as “our little gummy bear.” I was upset, because I thought that this sick broad was suggesting that unborn babies taste like candy. I then learned that she said this because at our current stage of the pregnancy, our baby is just starting to grow it’s arm and leg buds, and has a proportionately large head. Gummy bear, teddy graham, they both make sense. Apparently, calling it a fetus is too much for some people. Either way, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little moved seeing my child for the first time, even if it was a grainy image, and some lady was cramming a sex toy into my wife at the time. The lady handed us a printout of the image, and sent us back into the waiting room.
We went back into the room with all of the old ladies, or as I called them, “The Unfuckables.” Now that I think of it, “God’s Waiting Room” would have been a much better title for that place. After we sat down, Liz pulled out the printout, and began looking at it. She told me that her friend told her that you can tell the baby’s gender by how high the heart rate is. I later found out that this was total bullshit, but at the time I didn’t know any better. If the heart rate was over 150, it’s supposedly a girl. Liz told me that the heart rate was 169. When I heard this, I blurted out an instinctive “FUCK!” which isn’t something that you should say around a bunch of old ladies. Let me clarify something: I want a healthy baby more than anything. All I really want is to be a dad, and gender isn’t that important to me. The way I see it, if I have a healthy baby girl, I just won the Florida Lottery. If I have a healthy boy, I just won the Powerball. Either way, I’m a winner. 10 fingers and 10 toes is a winner. 10 fingers, 10 toes, and 1 penis is a mega winner.
Our next part of the visit was with the nurse practitioner who resided at the clinic. When we stepped into her office, the first thing that I noticed were all of the pictures of dogs on the wall. She told us that she breeds boxers as a hobby. I love dogs, and boxers are great dogs, so I let out a big, unmanly “Awwwww.” It then registered that this woman dealt with pregnant women for a living, and pregnant dogs for a hobby, what a weirdo.
This was the part of the visit where we got all of the information we needed. She asked us if we were planning to have our baby circumcised if it’s a boy, and we both blurted out “yes” simultaneously. It’s funny, because we never discussed this before being asked. Apparently my wife feels the same way as me about foreskin, that it’s yucky. Mom, thanks for mutilating my schlong, you did good. I just realized that I just described my penis to hundreds, sometimes thousands of people. Oh well, I’m not changing it.
The nurse practitioner then informed us of the option to cryogenically freeze our umbilical cord blood, for the stem cells. I didn’t even know that this was legal in the US, but from my research, stem cells are the building blocks of our genetic code. The things that you can treat with them is almost unbelievable. We decided that if we can afford it, that we’re going to do it, religious fanatics be damned. I believe in the miracles of science and modern medicine, not some man in the sky. The down payment is a fairly large sum of money, but they’re willing to work out payment plans. The cost isn’t important anyway. I’d sell one of my legs, if it meant potentially saving my child’s life.
Finally, we saw one of the doctors of the practice. He seemed like a pretty cool guy actually. He reviewed my wife’s medical history, and decided to change one of her medications, no big deal. He then said “I see that it’s time for your yearly, so let’s do that while you’re here,” which in my head sounds like “I see your Ferrari is due for a tune-up, so go ahead and pop the hood.”
Before I knew it, this guy’s head was between my wife’s legs. I had to resist the urge to toss this man across the room, because I’m as dumb as the rest of the men out there. I’m just kidding actually, I really just assumed the position of me staring at the floor. If I had heard the doctor say something like “Oooooooh!” or “Nice!” then I might have gotten upset. Instead, the doctor and nurse were busy heckling me, because they could tell how uncomfortable I was. If he had a sheet over his head, and had a button in his hand, he would have looked exactly like a 1920’s photographer. I would have laughed if he said “Say cheese!” Anyway, everything checked out fine, and we’re looking good so far, knock on wood.
Well, that was the visit in a nutshell. We go back to the doctor this coming Tuesday, to see how my wife is doing on her new meds. Our next appointment is 4 weeks after that. The Baby Chronicles will be updated according to how often new information is gathered, stay tuned.