One thing I knew about moving to FL from OH was the fact that I had excellent prenatal care in the Midwest and had heard less than rave reviews about Southern care. I loved my crazy, cowboy, singing doctor in OH that gave me at least five ultrasounds and told me to go eat milkshakes and candy bars. We referred to the hospital where I gave birth as the country club as well. It's aesthetically-pleasing, clean, cherry wood piano-player-in-the-lobby facilities only had private rooms, and the day after leaving the hospital (which also offered mommy massages for the new mom) your very own nurse comes to your house to check on mom and baby. She was also a lactation consultant who came back twice to help me when I was having trouble with breastfeeding. I had a really great experience and was warned that it probably would not be the case here in FL. It seemed like we were always hearing about someone getting life-threatening infections in the hospital where I would likely have my next child. This was less than thrilling to me.
Yesterday, I finally had my first visit with my new OB (my first with Em was at six weeks, I'm now at ten weeks). I went in with a good attitude, excited to finally get this process started, and tried not to think back on how good I had it in OH. From the moment I walked in, things went downhill. I first had to meet with some new patient accounts person who told me that I would have to pay $719 by my fifth month of pregnancy, with adjustments made if I have to have more than one ultrasound. Ew. Our insurance at my husband's last company covered all but $250, which we were billed for after Emma was born. Makes sense to pay after the service is actually rendered.
I went up to the waiting room, where I waited...and waited...and then waited some more. After almost an hour of waiting, a nurse came out and apologized for the wait, there was an emergency. From what I could tell, someone had gotten sick in the back. Fine. I can handle that. But then I watched as every single person in the room was called before me. There were people there that had come in a good hour after me and went in before me.
So. Dang. Annoying.
Now, this was pretty much my first time out since I've been sick, and I had a sick little Emma at home that I wanted to get back to. As I watched the time tick by, the more annoyed I was. To top things off, I had an early lunch and wasn't feeling great. I reached my breaking point when the receptionist told me after my hour and a half wait, I would still have about thirty more minutes.
I tried to control the tears as I called Matt to explain my woes, but there was no holding them back. This was not how my first appointment was supposed to be. FL, you suck. I think the receptionist overheard my breaking voice because five minutes later I was in the back, now having to explain to the nurse that really, I was fine, and didn't even know why I was crying. Ugg, except for the fact that the reason I was crying was that it's depressing being stuck in your house sick for a week and now my baby's sick and I miss my family and just want to go home for the holidays, dangit. I figured this wasn't the time to go into that, however.
So I waited some more.
Aaand had to pee.
That would be one of the first things I would do before an internal ultrasound, right, after pregnantly waiting for so long? Well that would just make too much sense. I asked for my pee cup and was given two alcohol sheets to wipe with. Whhaaat?? Um, strike twelve. Who makes a person wipe down there with an alcohol swab?? Not OH. Since the lab at this office was downstairs, I had to carry my cup around until after my ultrasound too. Thankfully, after asking about this, one of the nurses stole the cup while I was talking with the doctor and put it in a bag. Plus one point for her.
I finally undressed in the freezing room, and told the doctor that I hoped he had some warming gel because if not, we may have some problems getting this exam done. I was feeling pretty sassy at that point. He gave me an extra sheet cover. Finally, I got to see my little alien growing inside me and hear the little heartbeat. At ten weeks he/she has two arms and two legs, which is a good sign. I got my pics and headed downstairs to give my five vials of blood and call it a day. Three hours and ten minutes from when I arrived, I headed out into the now dark parking lot.
Ohio, there aren't a whole lot of things I miss about you, but when it comes to having a baby, you win hands down. With thirty more weeks to go, FL, you have a lot of catching up to do. Win me over, baby. Win me over.