So today we went and saw a real doctor, you know the kind with a stethoscope and medicine and all that s***. The technical term for this type of doctor is an OB/GYN, but I like to call them “Lady Part Doctors.” Miss Mom, who wasn’t a particularly positive person to begin with, has definitely been in a sour mood these last couple months. Morning sickness, I suppose, will have that affect – however, even as a non-pregnant person she is generally a very sober, up-tight, and easily-frustrated sort of person. Laid back, she is not. I don’t mean to make her sound like a bad person or anything (she’s a great person), she’s just tough to deal with at times even in the best of her moods; Which is partially why we broke up at the end of November. Fast forward to our appointment today and even my most shining attempts at humor were being met with annoyance and bitterness.
Nurse (handing her a cup): We’re going to need a sample?
Kevin (whispering and smiling): They need a stool sample? That seems extreme.
Miss Mom (with venom): You can’t be serious.
Kevin: I will stop talking.
Miss Mom said she was excited for me to be a part of the process, however, after we got to the office she insisted that I sit in the waiting room and do nothing while she went in. I sat for an hour, playing with my phone, texting friends, e-mailing, and killing digital green pigs with flying chubby birds. I kept thinking, this is being a part of the process? Suddenly I received a text from Miss Mom:
“Do you have any questions for the doctor?”
“Yes,” I replied.
Soon she appeared in the waiting room door and signaled for me to come in. I got off the couch and walked in the exam room where the doctor said to me, “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Not really. Just excited to be a part of the process.”
“Well why didn’t you come in?”
“Uh, she didn’t want me to.”
Miss Mom quickly expressed, “I didn’t know if you were gonna give me a pap smear and I didn’t want him here for that.”
I just shrugged and tried not to remind her that I’d actually seen her vagina before and it’s likely I may see it again at some point during this process, well, if I’m going to be involved. The truth is: I have to come to terms with the fact that at the birth, and likely at the last minute, I will be invited to wait in the lobby. That’s a tough truth.
