The worrying

It's been an exhausting day. I'm pregnant if you didn't know and went for my 12 week checkup. I'm what they called an advanced maternal aged mother so I was supposed to let my doctor know if I was going to have the full battery of tests that ACOG recommends. I had made my decision (it's been a hard one with lots of worry and second guessing) but then he told me I had a few more days! AAAAHHHHH! I was a basket case. I cried. He thinks I'm a loon, I'm sure. Because I was a bitch the time before since I had to wait 3 hours (not kidding) and this time I waited for an hour. It's Ochsner. It's a nightmare. If I didn't love and respect my doctor so much I would be out of there. I had W at Memorial Baptist and it was such a pleasant experience, from the time I got pregnant to the time I delivered (luckily I delivered a few days before the storm, otherwise I may have another opinion). Sorry, I could go on for days about Ochsner so I won't bore you.

Back to my point. I finally talked to my good and wise friend, A. I should have called her to begin with. It was a relevation when I thought about calling her. So after 5 minutes I had made my decision and she was right. I just needed to make the decision, move on and not look back. I only wish that it were 40 years ago. Then I wouldn't have to worry about any of this. I could drink and eat tuna fish and deli meat and ceasar salads made with raw eggs. I could eat the stinkiest, most unpasteurized cheese I could find. I could take a steaming hot bath and soak for hours. I wouldn't have to think about which tests I were going to take. and since women had babies earlier in life, I wouldn't be a mother of advanced maternal age. I know. There are a ton of advantages to child bearing now. The advances in medicine are phenomenal and I certainly don't discount that. But it's the worrying that just may kill me.