I read somewhere that new mothers are flooded with a quick-bonding hormone right after childbirth.  The idea is that it will help her bond with the new baby, but sometimes I think the bonding splashes over onto other people in the room, too.  At least, this is the best explanation I can come up with for the fact that I have a strangely fond opinion of my doctor, considering he’s a regular guy about my dad’s age that I only see for a few hours a year.

Therein lies the problem: I like* him, and I want him to like* me.  I hope he thinks of me as intelligent, witty, sophisticated, and wise beyond my years.  But in our infrequent encounters, I am always at a distinct social disadvantage: holding a cup of my own urine, wearing socks and a paper dress, standing on a scale, or, oh yes– giving birth to a child, with all the indignity that entails.

I do my best to present myself as well as possible– I shave my legs, check in promptly for my appointments, carry an interesting book, make comments about international affairs, choose shoes that don’t make my feet smell– but I’m working against a tide of all the other less-than-glamorous impressions that I have made.

What’s a girl to do?

Starting in June I will be going in for more frequent visits, so I’m studying the latest issue of Reader’s Digest to stock up on good jokes and trivia.  And, of course, I’m saving my most embarrassing questions for WebMD.

*Of course I do not mean “like-like.”  What is this, sixth grade?  I’m being entirely appropriate and non-romantic here.


11 responses to “Impressions

  1. I think that is hilarious and weirdly true – and I’m pretty sure none of your male blog-followers are going to understand it in the least.

  2. All I have to say is that my wife wore something special on the day of my “procedure” because of her innocent crush…at least she was wearing more than a gown! I say have your crush. He will certainly appreciate you just being a clean individual. Other than that, he won’t care about anything else. You’re a normal person and those are few and far between! 😉

  3. Oh, and by the way, smell-good feet matter most (certainly more than if the nails are painted). So, thanks for thinking of that!!!

  4. I am so disillusioned…I thought I was special.

  5. I kinda feel the same way about our pediatrician. And I’ve actually started doing his newsletter just recently, so we’ve communicated some by email. I’m a little over-concerned about what goes in those emails… trying to keep it business only, and then he makes a personal comment about my kids or his, so I respond and then he doesn’t, and then it’s weird. I dunno. I also actually fix my hair on the days we have doc appts, but I think that’s because I’m actually going OUT for a change… to see someone besides another SAHM!

  6. Valerie Pearson

    My doc is a woman but I have the same thoughts. I want her to like me. It’s exacerbated because I see her regularly in the halls of church (two sets of our children have been born within months of each other so nursery drop-off/pick-up always offers a chance encounter). But it’s kinda hard to think she likes me and wants to be my friend when she’s seen me…well in all my childbirth glory. So then I’m stuck with awkward feelings of inadequacy that my people-pleasing self can hardly handle. What’s a girl to do?

    • I am very glad NOT to run in the same circles as my doc. It would give me more chances to improve my image, but it would be weird to share a hymnal or eat at Chick Fil A with someone who’s watched your child be born (husbands excluded). Sympathies, friend.

  7. Yeah, I knew someone who’s OB was their SS teacher. Um, awkward.

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