Texas vs. Iowa, part 2: Hedging for contingency

The first time I met my Texas OB, I noticed a substantive difference between her and the OB I had in Iowa. Don't get me wrong- I still think the world of Dr. Fick (the doctor in Iowa). I think these differences can be attributed to the setting in which they practice medicine, however: Dr. Fick was a clinical physician at a teaching hospital; Dr. Webster practices OB/GYN, and that's it.

This is what I mean: at one of my first meetings with Dr. Fick, when I was either four or five months along, I asked if there was a chance I could be induced. My reasoning was that I'd have little time to recuperate postpartum because my due date was so close to the beginning of the fall semester; I though I'd only have two weeks if Katie came on time. Dr. Fick, an OB specializing in maternal-fetal medicine (because of my history of cancer, I was placed with her and considered a high-risk pregnancy- freaked me out at first), answered that a lot can happen in five months and that she'd hate to deliver me early and have the baby spend a month on the ventilator. That was the end of that conversation, and we didn't talk about my delivery until my last two appointments. I had questions about epidurals and everything that she answered, but no birth plan (as recommended in the books I was reading- which was fine with me, really). It was truly an appointment-to-appointment experience.

On the other hand, at my first meeting with Dr. Webster here in Texas, she immediately brought up the subject of delivery and the choice between VBAC (vaginal birth after delivery) versus c-section. She even started looking at my scar and talking about where she'd most likely make the incision. Then, Wednesday at my second appointment, she said I was having a "perfect pregnancy."

So the differences might not be clear as I'm describing them, but they have been to me: Dr. Fick was always cautious, Dr. Webster seemingly optimistic and assuming a successful, healthy pregnancy. Again, I have no other complaints with Dr. Fick, but as I said, I attribute this to the fact that Dr. Fick is an academic, and responsible academics avoid speaking in absolutes. This is something I've had to work on personally in my own work and writing; I don't know that UI Hospitals share the postmodern vein that runs through the east side of the university campus- I doubt med students and residents at the UI have to read Richard Rorty, but to avoid absolutes (by saying things like "perfect pregnancy") is to acknowledge the contingency attached to lived experience.

Anything is still possible. I could still miscarry- anything could still happen with this pregnancy. I am nowhere nearly as nervous as I was about the first pregnancy and that may have to do with the ease with which I got pregnant this time. Maybe my body can do something right. I am, however, very nervous about when the baby is here- will I get enough fieldwork done before November? Will I be able to finish my writing in time to defend next summer, at the latest? How will Katie react? For that matter, how will Eric and I react with two kids, considering Katie has been a proverbial cakewalk?

So, to bring this mindless and worthless rambling to a close and get back to working on my first chapter, thinking about the reality of this baby instead of the pregnancy is another distinction between this pregnancy and the first. I look at this, though, as preparing my game face for when it's actually happening, as my way of intellectualizing the experience and working out the logistics- as preparing to be in a living hell and getting our asses kicked when baby #2 arrives. It may be sadistic, but this is my method of survival: it's how I approached breastfeeding, my comprehensive exams and any other challenge. In that case, it's probably the only similarity between Iowa and Texas.