I went into the doctor’s office this morning for my routine glucose test. Drink the sweet orange juice, wait an hour, take some blood, make sure you don’t give birth to a 20 pound baby. Simple.
What I wasn’t expecting was for my doc to tell me that he’s retiring. At the end of December. 6 weeks before my due date.
Ok, so granted there have been a few moments in our history where we didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on things. Like how for years he’s nagged me about my weight. And then when I ask if I have gained enough weight during this pregnancy, he’s suddenly forgotten to consider that BMI he’s been on me about.
But he’s a thorough doctor, I’ve seen him for years. He’s close by and works out of the same hospital my mother does and where I plan to have my child.
And now I get to find someone new. In the next 12 weeks. Yippie.
Good news is that my mother works with a lot of OBs at the hospital and she can at least recommend the ones to avoid.
Perhaps now is a good time to start looking into Doulas so I can have someone I trust at my side.
Sigh. Let the search begin!