Cover up.

At a visit to a walk-in clinic today, I disrobed to show the doctor some bumps on my skin. She held up the gown and told me to cover up. Or some bullshit like that.

My body has birthed three children, is soft and round and is still in the process of change. I already felt vulnerable, standing in the room in the robe and my socks, all the while holding, nursing, and interacting with my younger son. The nurse had instructed me to put the robe on so it opened in back, but how in fuck's sake do I feed my baby with the opening in back? So I wore it, open in front but eventually put it back on, so it opened in back.

The doctor walked in and she was stand-offish. She didn't shake my hand. I get it; I was there for some skin issues. She probably didn't want to catch some weird disease from some walk-in patient. That's cool.

And then she asked me about my bumps, so I took off the robe and showed her these bumps that itch like crazy and flare up when I scratch. And that's when she held up the robe, open in back, and ushered me into it.

Fuck. That.

But I'm a good girl so I did as was asked. I started to move the gown aside again and she placed it back on my body, telling me she was just going to look at one spot at a time. Which she did. While the rest of me remained covered.

And that's how it went. I went to breastfeed my son and I swear she didn't make eye contact and diverted her eyes.

Really? Is this really happening?

Fuck. That.

Speaking up has never been my strong suit, but I swear to you, my resolution is to SPEAK. THE. FUCK. UP.

I had never been in a medical situation before where I had felt so frustrated with my care. AND I paid walk-in clinic fees (after hours charges, I'm sure) so I basically paid someone to make me feel like shit. Great. Awesome.

I think what made me feel like shit was the fact that she came in with this power. I asked her some questions about the safety of the treatment she suggested with lactation, and she basically said, I'm a family doctor. I do this all the time. 

This was such a change from a visit I had had earlier in the day when I brought my younger son in to be seen for what I suspected was an ear infection. We went in to an after-hours office to see a pediatrician in the practice, and I was feeling stressed out by his congestion and cough. His name was called and I started to lift up my bags and carry his carseat, when the nurse came over and helped me. She carried my bags, while I carried my sleeping son in his seat.

We entered the exam room and she asked me the typical questions. One asked about medications and I admitted I hadn't given him his whole round of antibiotics that he had been prescribed a few weeks prior.

She looked at me, and she told me that she could tell I felt guilty about not finishing the round of antibiotics.

I nodded.

She told me I was a good mother and that I was caring for my son's needs.

I nodded.

And I wanted to hug her. And tell her thank you. Thank you for going above and beyond in making me feel safe. And comfortable. And supported.

Tonight I will be thankful for people like the nurse that cared and listened and supported. And I'll try to let go of the frustration I felt from the other woman that didn't seem to care. Or listen. Or support. And most importantly, I'll try to grow my voice, so that I may be more capable of advocating, for myself and for my children.