My OB/GYN, My Hero

This post is dedicated to all you crushers.


According to all my delightful comments from my day in the SITS spotlight, I am not alone in the crush department (This Ain't Teen Beat). A lot of us tend to let our minds wander, daydreaming about walking the sandy beaches of Australia with a certain retired Yellow Wiggle...*ahem*


Where am I? Oh yes, yes...crushes...I've had them since I was oh, um...9. Yeah, that far back. I feel I need to be accurate. But as a happily married with children girl, I totally blame the crushes I have now...on my kids. That's right. See, I don't get out much (though I'm working on it). And when you have the babes, some of us tend to watch a lot of kid shows. So a lot of my crushes swirl around the boob tube. Steve from Blue's Clues, Jeff Corwin, and my fave Yellow Wiggle. I tend to keep my temptation confined strictly to cable. Completely separated by reality and a TV screen. But ONCE it happened in real life. But again, I blame my kids. Specifically A-girl.


See, I was pregnant with her. Specifically like 6-8 weeks pregnant with her to be exact. Still, just a twinkle in my eye. Or would that be a jelly bean? Anyhoo, it was early on in the pregnancy. And I started bleeding. Of course the worst came to mind as hubby rushed me to the ER. And in comes My Hero--Dr. V. My ultrasound, probe carrying heeeero! Thankfully after much probing around, he found my little jelly bean, still intact, safe in the womb. He assured me it was only implantation bleeding. Normal. Everything was fine. But he wanted me to come in every few days to check my hormone levels and make sure everything was continuing to go well. He asked if I he could take me on as his patient and continue to see me throughout my pregnancy. Just him. Uuuuuuh...yes. See, in the military, that can be hit or miss. You weren't guaranteed to see the same doctor every time you go in for your check ups. So, naturally I had to jump on that offer. Plus he was gorgeous. That didn't hurt at all. He was this dark and handsome Latin/Hispanic dreamboat. He had an accent. He looked like he could be Joey from Friends brother. A tad bit cuter than Joey AND a doctor. And there was that heavenly accent. Despite the fact that he was beautiful, my age, spending most of his time looking inside my belly and ya know...down there, I just didn't caaaaaare. It was all about the baby, right? Right?


**Here I'd like to insert an intermission for those of you that need to feed your children, go to the the bathroom, get more coffee/wine, a snack. I'll wait.

Are you still with me? Okay, so Dr. V stayed true to his word and saw me frequently. At least twice a week in the beginning. Then once a week the rest of the time. And he would fit me in. He would set up times for us to meet after hours at the hospital. Like 7:00 p.m. appointments. Yeah. Hubby and I would go (yes, hubby is still in the picture, don't you worry) and meet him and he would literally unlock the door to the OB/GYN wing and we'd go in and the lights would be off and everything. It would be just us. Most the times we had to bring our older daughter--L--with us too, so hubby would be off entertaining her in the hospital cafeteria or halls, I don't know keeping her occupied. And it would just be Dr. V and me. Yeah. This *did not* help out my daydreams. Not a bit.

He even gave me his cell phone number for emergencies or any questions or concerns. WHO DOES THIS? This does not happen (to me), especially not in the military. Oh, and he's single. Or has a girlfriend. Whatever. Yes, more fuel to the daydream fire.

But I was good. Very bad in my head, mind you, but in person I was very good. He was very professional. But niiiice. So nice. And chatty. He had a lot to say. And he gave me like 1000 ultrasounds it felt like. It was just when the 3-D ones were coming out, so he liked to play around with them. You just take your time, Doc. And I mentioned he gave me his cell phone number, right? That was burning a hole in my wallet for months. I only gave in once and called him. He told me he'd be out of town for training and not to hesitate to call. So of course, I had to call. Well, it was legit. I was around someone that had chicken pox. Exposed to chicken pox! Serious business. So I called him. He was literally out in the field training, somewhere in Delaware. But he answered and he wasn't mad I called. See, legit. But again, so niiiiice. He really probably should of put me in my place. But he was nice. Reassured me that everything would be fine. A very nice and reassuring, long-distance fine. Call anytime. Yeah.

So this goes on for months. Nine months to be exact. And finally the day comes for A-girl to make her debut. Now from my first labor experience with L, I knew it was gonna be long. I have looooong labors. Days. The hospital was a good 45 minute drive and I remembered that we drove 45 minutes both ways about 4 times when I was going into labor with L. Because I was sure "this is it!" Even though I have long labors, they are intense from the second they start. Strong, strong, STRONG contractions right from the beginning. There is no getting stronger. We're there. Four minutes apart from the beginning. For 24+ hours. I take FOREVER to dilate. So when I went into labor with A-girl, I wanted to be good and wait it out as long as I could before making the drive in, and calling Dr. V. It would be a while. But we did call him and let him know things were getting going. And eventually we did go in only to find out after like 10 hours I had only dilated to almost a "1". Yeah. So we stayed there and walked and walked and walked all over the base. I had amazing thigh and calve muscles the next day. Then we went in and I begged for drugs. I was exhausted, as you are when you're in labor and have walked 10 miles.

**This is flipping long. Go get more snacks.

In the military they won't admit you until your 3cm dilated. I was still at a "1", but they had mercy on me and agreed to give me an epidural. Just as they were getting ready to do that, my water broke. And I was ready to push. And within seconds, A-girl entered the world! There had been no time to call Dr. V. It just happened too fast. So after all our months of care (courting), he didn't get to deliver A-girl. We thought we'd call him after we were officially admitted. A-girl had other ideas. Dr. V was disappointed, but came right in to see her and check on me.

So our time together had come to an end. Until I went in for my 6-week check up. While I was waiting in the waiting room, Dr. V came walking down the hall. He saw me (our eyes met) and actually came in the waiting room and gave me a hug and sat down next to me in the waiting room to catch up (in front of everyone). He looked at the baby pics in my wallet (and the one of my dog) and told me A-girl was beautiful. He told me he just found out he was transferring up north. He was disappointed. Me too. I gave him the whole...Thanks for taking such good care of me and baby/after dark appointments/long-distance chicken pox emergencies (or lack thereof)/we'll miss you (don't leave me) speech. And that was it. Good-bye Dr. V. Farewell my sweet.

I have his cell number tucked away in A-girl's baby book. Yeah. Memories.

**Before anyone feels inclined to yell at me for not setting a good example, know that I was a good girl all the way through...in real life...and hubby knows it all. He was there. And he reads my blog.