The Day My Heart Stopped

I should preface this post by saying that everything and everyone is perfectly and 100% FINE.

I had every intention of blogging about this as it unfolded, but for obvious reasons, I was much too upset too do anything but cry and worry last night. Tonight, everything is much, much better… and best of all, Mr. D is putting Scout to bed so I can have five minutes all to myself and my lovely Interwebs.

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Due to a series of all kinds of ridiculousness, I finally had my first appointment with an OB/GYN yesterday…

By my count, I was16 weeks and 4 days.

With Scout, I had my first appointment at 4 weeks. The first sonogram was at 8 weeks. There was another at 13 weeks and the BIG ONE at 18 weeks.

Poor Baby #2. Getting short changed already.

Unfortunately, he or she spent its first weeks of life in the UK, where prenatal care is somewhat… lacking.

It depends on who you ask (or who happens to offer their unsolicited opinion), but the Brits just don’t give into our cu-razy American notions of preventative care and prenatal vitamins.

In fact, they find our need to be seen by a doctor on a regular basis somewhat hysterical and quite unbecoming. As one commenter on my “American Mom in London” blog wrote to me:

In the UK pregnancy and childbirth is considered to be a natural thing, not an illness or abnormal medical condition. Gynecologists and obstetricians will only be brought in if there appears that there are — or will — be problems.

I would suggest that in the USA it is to the advantage of expensive medical specialties like obs/gyn to pretend that pregnancy is dangerous.

Not “dangerous”, so much as nerve-wracking, exciting, full of anxiety and fear, happy, stressful…

Not necessarily bad things, but it really does help to have the support and guidance of… oh, I don’t know… someone that ought to be knowledgeable on the topic.

Of course, upon moving back to the States, I had the equally distressing task of dealing with our health insurance system. We had a few weeks and a long, cross country drive ahead of us before Mr. D started at his new company, so  I applied for a short term policy. However, once they found out I was preggers, the company refused to write the policy.

(Something about it being a “preexisting” condition and the company not willing to accept the liability down the road. Basically, a bunch of C.Y.A. BS…)

So, I had to pass on a visit to the wonderful OB/GYN in Dallas who delivered Scout. I was feeling fine and not even my “nerves-excitement-anxiety/fear-happiness-stress” could justify paying out of pocket.

Even after Mr. D started work, it took three more weeks to wade through the paperwork while I continued to wait and wait and WAIT!

So here we are 16 weeks and 4 days later.

After waiting so long, I was beyond excited about my appointment (and the subsequent blog post/photos that would surely follow).

Things started a bit hectic, but once I met my new doctor, I felt very comforted. We went through the basic info and I asked her a few questions. Then she checked for the heartbeat and couldn’t find it…

… and I felt my heart stop too.