Dear friends, to understand this post, you need to read it as if it was written while I was having a temper tantrum, just like a two year old, lying on the floor, flailing my hands and feet, and yelling. It was written yesterday and not posted til now.
"My little headache is getting bigger. I can barely see this screen, my eyes are blurring now. I managed a few comments today and some reading blogs but not much.
I'm beginning to realize that my issue around these Doc is not so much what they do, as it is, who they are.
They are NEW.
I don't like change. I don't like anything different or odd or anything I'm unprepared for in any way. It's sort of my ADD, and sort of my general discomfort with male Doctors. I am STILL unclear as to why men practice OB/Gyn or infertility medicine. I think they must get bored looking at all the hoo-haas, so what is it?
In times of crisis, I need comfort and familiarity. I want to eat mashed potatoes and hide in my house and only go to places I have been many times before. I really really don't want to have to break in a new doctor once again, and a new therapist.
With my GP, Dr.J. I don't have to explain anything ever. She knows me perfectly. But she isn't delivering babies anymore because she wants to do something else, like not stay up all night or something. She can still see me as a GP, but not for the big stuff, like my ultrasounds, or for my delivery. And I hate that. Magical thinking be damned, I want her, and she just has to be there, and gahhhhhhhhhh, this sucks.
As for therapists, more gahhhhhh the woman who knew me really well moved to the East Coast 3 years ago, and Dr.M, who took forever to get to know me, and finally does, works for a program that is not allowed any repeat clients.
So any therapist I see, will have to educated completely about ADD, about complicated grief, and perinatal bereavement. You see, none of these subjects are discussed in any therapy training programs, since ADD is an imaginary disease, that only young hyper boys and drug-seeking adults get; complicated grief is easily conquered if we "just get over it" maybe take a bunch of ADs or something; and of course, what's a baby death? Bahhh, nothing big....
Fuck, fuck, fuck, I just don't have the energy to train a bunch of new doctors right. I am to tired, I hate this, I want to everything to be easier. I just don't want to be me right now. I want to be the innocent stupid little first time preggo that I was pregnant.
I want to go back in time."
I still feel this way, but I'm less tired and cranky than I was last night when I wrote this. We have a day off school today and we're all going to the Royal Winter Fair together. Hopefully, thinking about something besides my uterus will keep me calm. See you later.