When I heard the news that my OB/GYN was retiring, I knew I had to make an appointment to see him before he left the practice. I’ve been seeing Dr B for 18 years and in that time we covered: birth control pills, infertility, 4 pregnancies, a c-section to deliver the twins, 2 miscarriages, IUDs and of course my CJ. We’ve had some interesting conversations while I’ve been heels-down, toes-up in the stirrups, and his head laser-focused on my Southern Hemisphere. From sobbing in his office with the fear that I’d never be able to have kids, to celebrating with him when we heard two heartbeats, and hearing his voice on the other end of the phone last October with the unfortunate news that the “growth” (as we called it back then) was malignant, you could say we’ve run the gamut.
But there’s something funny about going to see your OB when you’re no longer pregnant or trying to get pregnant. The office that you used to go in for weekly visits, has undergone a massive redesign: new chairs! new colors! free WIFI! It’s changed, but it hasn’t changed.
[A friend and I had always joked that it would be a great business strategy to open up a traveling beauty bar whereby waxing aestheticians trolled the hallways at OB/GYN offices with carts so they could give you a quick “Brazilian” while you were already in the stirrups. Just watch. This will totally take off. Add it to the list of “shoulda-coulda-woulda” business ideas.]
Going to the office felt like visiting your old teacher and classroom during lunch – everything looks different, yet there’s a familiarity there somehow. And speaking of old familiarities…guess who happened to be in the office waiting room with me? My BFF from middle school (and fellow Durani – she was going to marry Nick. I was a “John Girl” all the way.) There we were, LH and I, both stuck waiting for Dr B after being informed that he was running 40 minutes late, (What are you gonna do…reschedule? Kinda impossible with his retirement situation and all…so we both just…waited.) giggling like the 12-year-olds we used to be, discussing old friends and old crushes, and the fact that my boys are now the age that we were when we were Officially Boy Crazy.
It was fun taking a trip down memory lane, and just for a few minutes, we were transported back to 1982 – our journey even more poignant given that the guys are now dipping their pinky toes into the girl pond. I previously shared all of the most intimate deets about my first boyfriend in 5th grade, who asked me “to go” one minute before the bell rang on the last day of school here, and it kinda feels like I’m reliving it now. Only – slight difference – I’m the carpool-coordinating, birthday-party-driving Mother instead of the actual 6th grader who’s taking a chance cause luck is on my side or something.
This Freaky-Friday-esque (Seriously, wasn’t it just 1982 for christsakes?) scenario enables me to offer up such golden morsels of advice, such as:
“If a girl asks you something personal and promises – swears! – that she won’t tell anyone, don’t fall for it. She will tell people. I was a 12-year-old girl once.”
And this little gem about avoiding entrapment aka a 6th grade Sting Operation:
“If you are going with a girl, and her friends ask you who would you like if you didn’t like the girl you do like, don’t do it. This will never end well. And it will always, always, get back to the girl you like.”
I didn’t want to leave the safe confines of the World of 1982 that we’d created by reminiscing, but it finally came my turn to go in, so I said my goodbyes and we made plans for a middle school reunion.
“We’ve had a nice run, haven’t we?” said Dr B when he first walked in. We hugged. Where does the time go, we both wondered. His kids are now grown, parents themselves, making him a grandparent. Mine are blooming into teen and tween-hood.
Yes, it has been. From babies to breast cancer, I’m glad he was in my corner. And I’m grateful that – thanks to him – I get to be in my children’s corner for as long as they’ll let me.