Doctor-Phobia

I had heart palpitations all night long.  My breathing was erratic at best.  Ellie couldn't stop screaming with no foreseeable reason, but I knew what lay under the surface.  She had a doctor's appointment this morning at 10:30 am.  I successfully passed down my doctor phobia to my daughter.

I realize this is just simple conjecture.  She's ten weeks old.  She doesn't have the skill of deductive reasoning or manipulation.  But, walking her around my dining room table at 2:37 a.m. with her screaming bloody murder couldn't fooled me.  She certainly seemed to know what was in store for her in a few, short hours.

This is all in my mind, of course.  But what would Mothers be if not a bit mental? My kid's a trooper.  She doesn't bat an eye when the pediatrician man-handles her limbs to check if they're working properly.  She doesn't utter a whimper when he squeezes her skull to check that weird soft spot in the back of baby's heads.  She shouts one, loud bellow of protest when she's stuck- three times- with needles as long as my pinkie-and then, solemnly resumes her sulky demeanor. More angry at being disturbed than actually injured. I am the one cowering in the corner.  Lying about where she sleeps- " Hm? Oh, of course she sleeps in her crib at night! " (Well, she does.  I just put the nap nanny inside the crib, since she'll only really sleep in that.  Not to worry- she can't roll over or lift her head yet so there's nothing to be concerned about.  Though when she is able in a few short weeks, we're screwed).  Pacing the small room with happy baby faces plastered all over the baby poop- yellow walls.  Lies.  All of them.  What baby is happy to go to the doctor?  Those glamour shots were probably taken on the boardwalk of a sunny beach somewhere, marketed to frightening doctors looking to instill feelings of well being in unsuspecting patients and their naive parents.  Well, I'm not one of them.  I know what they do here and I'm not happy about subjecting my kid to the horrors of modern medicine.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I'm glad doctors exist.  They save lives.  They write prescriptions.  They get you out of a half day of work when the only available appointment is on Friday at 11 a.m.  It's just, if I am not dying, I don't want to see one.

She did great today, by the way.  Only good news.  9.9 lbs ( that's a lb and a half gain in three and a half weeks), 22 and 1/4 inches (that's 2 and a 1/4 inches more than last visit!) and strong leg and arm muscles.  She even smiled brightly at him before he shoved an oral vaccination down her little throat.  Alas, it's just not enough.  At least I have a month reprieve in-between visits.