Have we met?

I had my six week postpartum check-up Monday, and, Yeah! I don’t have “a big gaping hole.”  I’m not sure how I’m supposed to interpret that, but the nurse instructed me to lose the bottom half of my clothes because, as she said all snarky-like concerning the doctor, “She’ll wanna check you and make sure you don’t have a big gaping hole.”  Uh okay.  And, the doctor, she made no mention of “a big gaping hole.”

The nurse had it in for me from the get-go.  Apparently, there is an entirely different mood set going to the OB-GYN with a uterus full ‘o babies versus the vacant funhouse.  I had achieved a bit of a celebrity status in the office as people are generally fascinated by twins and the expansion of the twin holding gut.  During the last month or so, strangers would stop me everywhere, “Are you carrying twins?!!”  I met a woman in the video store two nights before the big birth.  “Excuse me, but you’re pregnant with twins, aren’t you?  I have twins and looked and walked just like you when I was pregnant.”  Turns out she’s a postpartum nurse at my hospital.  All I could think about as she chatted me up, “You’re going to be checking my bungh0le for hemorrhoids in a few days. Great. Why I don’t I go ahead and show you my a$$ now? So you’ll have a baseline.”

Where was I? The expiration of my 15 minutes of OB-GYN office fame and the pissy nurse in need of a Barney hug. Typically, when she popped her head out to call patients, she would see me, smile, and belt with many exclamation points, “Ohmygawd!! You’re still pregnant with those TWO babies?!!” or “Ohmygawd, you’re getting so big with those TWO babies!!” Wahoo!! Yeehaw!! TWO babies!! SO.MUCH.EXCITEMENT.

This time, six weeks after the eviction of said TWO babies, the nurse opened the door, called patient after patient, and looked right through me. No smiles, no exclamation points!!!, zilch. Can I get an ‘Ohmygawd’ at least? Nothing. It was such a reversal of attitude, I started to doubt my physical presence in the office all together. I sleep so little these days, I thought, “Well, damn. There it is. I’m actually at home, in my bed, enjoying a 15-minute sleep spell with one or TWO babies perched upon my chest, and having the most vivid realistic dream EVER. And I dream this?? Sheesh.”

Eventually, it was my turn; the nurse popped her head out and promptly balked, “dee…ohmygawd, your hair looks awful! Did you dye your hair? It’s so…so…BLACK. Do you like it so…so…BLACK? I hate it.”

???

Okay. This dream sucks.

To set the record straight, my hair is not BLACK but my natural dark brown (with a little help from two bottles of dark brown hair dye). I’ve long since given up trips to the hair stylist as I don’t have a couple hundred bucks to drop just so the periphery of my face looks good. During my last visit well over a year ago, the stylist went a little red dye happy and slapped me with two auburn streaks. Two.

Did the nurse think I was a red head? Did she not notice the other 2 billion dark brown hairs? We can infer with a fair degree of certainty that she prefers red heads over brunettes. (she’s blonde, for whatever that’s worth)

I had no comeback to her comments. Maybe I’ve been in the Baby Cave too long or I was just taken by surprise. Spitting up and crapping oneself are the typical responses I see these days, but I doubt that would have translated well coming from me.

Down the hallway we go when she turns, still with that ‘I hate your hair’ snarled lip expression,

Who’s watching your kids?
E.
Who?
E.
Who?
E.
EEEEEEEE? That’s a weird name. Who’s that?

G-d, this has become too much for me already. She met and talked with E many times over the 9 months we were BFF. Perhaps someone forgot their medication?

Finally in the patient room, she goes to weigh me. But, she puts the lower weight block at 100, thus giving me a maximum weight possibility of 149 pounds. Seriously, lady, why do you have it in for me today??? a) I look like I could easily be towards the end of a mongo singleton pregnancy. b) Does she really think I lost ~100 pounds in 6 weeks? (I packed it on, people. Uhhh, it’s winter and I like to be warm. Yeh, that’s it.) (Oh yeh, I didn’t gain 100 pounds with this pregnancy. While I gained quite.a.bit, I was a chunker beforehand.)

Oh, but the Roasting of dee is not yet over. As she’s taking my blood pressure, she jabs, “I bet your daughter HATES HATES HATES the babies. Doesn’t she? She wants them to go away. Doesn’t she?” Jesus christ, can I get another nurse in here STAT?

When I told her Gab was doing quite well with the babies, smothering them with kisses and hugs and thanking me repeatedly for the ‘Baby Two,’ she actually ROLLED HER EYES and said, “Sure.” ::gasp::

Wow. But, I don’t have “a big gaping hole” and that’s all that really matters, right?