insignificant gifts...

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for Dr.C, January 08

for Dr.G, January 08

On the morning of my six week checkup....which, in my case, was an eight week checkup (Surprised, no?) I scrambled around, restless. I silently argued with myself about the fact that I was slipping back into my old doctor-anxiety routine. How in the world, I thought to myself, can you possibly be scared to go to a checkup when you just recently delivered a baby? (Cue mental lecture about how I absolutely must NOT pass on my headcase-ness to my daughter!) I also acknowledged that part of my uneasy, panic-y feeling was coming from my need to thank the two doctors who were instrumental in our pregnancy/delivery journey. Just the night before, I had rested in bed, wide-eyed, both comforted and equally annoyed by the rhythmic snoring of Tommy and our Weimaraner, Abby...my mind jumping from place to place...trying to drum up a creative way to convey our thanks to two women who deliver hundreds of babies each year. To them...it was all in a day's work. To us, though, it was the world.

After a morning punctuated by feedings, I finally decided that I would bring them both a bottle of wine. Lame? Yes, probably. Afterall, I had no idea if they even liked wine. Or maybe, I obsessed, they might even be offended by such a gift. But, in the end...it was all I had time to do. I decided to add picture tags...to personalize it a bit. I got too engrossed in the tag-making process and left myself barely any time at all to get ready. At 30 minutes prior to the appointment...I packed the car and headed for the building that I last saw when I looked in the rearview mirror as we left with our brand new baby. I wasn't ready for the flood of emotions that hit me as I got off the exit. Immediately, my mind recalled getting off this same exit just eight weeks prior...gripping the console and the door handle with each contraction...stealing glances at my driver...scrutinizing him for any sign of fear. "Babe, I'm scared!" I kept repeating it over and over. He smiled his smile and said, "But aren't you so excited, too?" Indeed I was...but fear was chief. Excitement was in the background craning it's neck for my attention. I recalled the phone calls Tommy made as we made our way to the hospital. We were all "it might be a false alarm--sit tight--we'll call back." I imagined my parents...at home in their beds. No way could they get any sleep after a phone call like that. Their baby was about to have a baby. I thought of my dad's patients and my mom's students and of how the next day would be a chaotic one for many people. At each traffic light, now, I looked in the backseat at the product of that trip to the hospital. I thought of how we were so ignorant to what was about to happen. We didn't even have the capacity to imagine joy, eight weeks ago, as big as we feel now. If we had only known, I kept thinking....
I pulled in the parking lot and unpacked...slightly embarrassed at the amount of baggage I now travel with...and at how un-smooth I am at carrying all of it. This time I have two bottles of red wine that pose a serious threat to all of my oxy-baby-white-monogrammed baby gear. I made my way up to the office with my heart in my throat as the elevator dinged past the labor and delivery floor. I signed in and went to the seat that I sat in as I waited for every single prenatal visit. (I know what you're thinking. What would I have done if someone had been sitting in my chair, right? Tommy asked me that each time. My answer was always the same....I would have stood.) Actually, this time we took up two seats...and then three when Tommy arrived. I drug him down memory lane with me....with all my usual prying. "Babe, do you remember what we were both wearing when we came here that night? Remember that guy in the waiting room? What was that nurse's name? The one with the short hair. You have to remember her!....and so on...
I saw our delivery doctor....the one who seamlessly put Ella safely in my arms.... for my checkup. Turns out, she likes wine and seemed to really appreciate the gesture.
The doctor who put up with my crazy-off-the-wall-I-read-it-on-the-internet questions for an entire 38 weeks and who laughed and comforted both Tommy and me at every visit, and who quickly found the heartbeat of our little lovey....she was one floor below...delivering a baby. I left the gift with her nurse.
A bottle of wine is certainly an insignificant gift for two people who did so much, so well. I hope they know, though....how hard we prayed for skilled, yet compassionate doctors...and how impressed we were with what God provided.