You are here

Talking Me Down Out of My Tree

This week, I'd quite completely treed myself over the issue of whether or not to undergo this next extensive ultrasound.

Fortunately, a number of people have since found ways to talk me down.

Helpful:

My Pilates instructor had me do a guided visualization. (She's a multi-faceted Pilates instructor.) She said I'm too caught up in being adversarial, feeling victimized by western medicine. I need a power shield — like a protective wet suit for scuba-ing through all of these procedures. Mine is dense, gold, and sparkly and I can surround myself — and the baby — with it while also expanding it outward, filling the room, the city, surrounding the entire planet.

It's not anything I would have ever done on my own, but it made me feel good. Strong. Less scared. Beneficent even.

Not Helpful:

My psychic chiropractor lost points by suggesting that my doctor is ordering the test because she's responding to my fear (uh, no, actually she's responding to statistics). She said I don't need to take the test, which is also what I think, but that I should because I will second guess myself later (shoulda woulda coulda) if I don't. Didn't agree with her on that one either. She also sounded worried about subjecting the baby to 30 minutes or more of high frequency sound waves, feeding my bad mother fear.

Helpful:

My friend who gave birth to a stillborn child several years ago, after 10 months of gestation, said: I had those resentments and fears about the medical establishment, about statistics and averages. And so did my midwife. I'd had my own bad experiences with doctors and hospitals. I'd been to many homebirths and I believed that I was doing the right thing by refusing intervention. And if nothing had gone wrong, I'd still think that way. I'll never know exactly why I lost my baby, but I believe my resentment prevented me from getting help.

People have been getting sonograms for 30 years, she said. Get over it. Accept the help. The doctors want to err on the side of caution. Let them do their job. Even if they say you have to lie on your back for the next three months. At the end of it, you'll have a healthy baby.

Helpful:

Other friends who all shared with me about the numerous sonograms they've had. Including one friend who explained how many she'd had just of her ovaries, as part of the procedures for her fertility treatments.

At the end of it all:

I asked Scott. He'd feel better if we had the ultrasound, just to be sure. And he's going to take the half-day off of work today and come with me.

comments