Mom-to-Be: As I squeeze myself into my jeans, put on my most flattering heels (which pinch my ever-expanding feet) and spin hopefully in front of the full-length mirror, you'd think I was getting ready for a first date, not an appointment with my OB. But something comes over me on the mornings I'm supposed to see her -- I get
nervous and insecure, like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.
Will she notice the
pregnancy acne that I've tried to cover up? Will she think I've gained too much
weight? Will she be proud of me that I resisted that second bowl of mint-chip
ice cream the night before?
I guess I just want her approval. It's like I'm back in high school and she's
the popular cheerleader -- and I'm ... well, trying to fit in.
She sees so many
pregnant women throughout the day that I want to stand out, maybe even be one of
her favorites. I'm sure I should be more focused on hearing my baby's heartbeat and knowing
that everything is OK with my future child. Don't get me wrong: I do care
about those things very much. But ever since becoming pregnant and losing
control of my body, I've become obsessed. And for some reason, my OB's opinion
matters more than anyone's.
But she has no clue. I never say a word. I just step on the scale for the nurse
(silently praying I'm not tipping the thing) and sit patiently while she checks my blood pressure. And when my doctor comes in, I turn on the charm and maybe even flirt just a little, hoping for a compliment.
So far, nothing. But you
never know -- I might be able to win her over before I give birth!