When I was pregnant with Piper, I "interviewed" a handful of pediatricians, because, well, that's what you do. Having no idea what I was doing or anything about newborns, I asked them 2 questions that were about me and my beliefs - how do you feel about me giving birth with a midwife at a birth center (hilarious now, because I was in labor for 2 days and had an emergency C-section and then we fell so in love with the hospital that I convinced the staff I should stay an extra 2 nights and Jaime actually ate a final meal at the cafeteria when it closed...about a year after Piper was born) and circumcision (again, rendered moot). I know my chosen pediatrician answered those questions in the manner I wanted, but mostly I chose him because when I told him he looked like a giant version of my dad, he said, "I hope he didn't beat you as a kid or anything then." He didn't, by the way. It took about 2-3 visits for me to realize that my doctor is a born-again Christian and right wing Republican zealot. If you're just joining us, I do not share those particular views. He never said anything about it, but Jesus was in the air, in a quote on the bathroom wall and on his newsletter and at one visit, I saw what I viewed as a legally insane political endorsement hanging in his office. Piper was born in June 2008, so our regular (what seemed like daily) appointments when she was an infant were during the heat of the Presidential election. I understood the moment I saw that sign as one of the those bad Western movie moments when the villain walks into the town saloon and stares down the sheriff. I'm not sure which one of us was which, but in my mind, it was ON. Granted, I was exhausted and overwhelmed, so I didn't give my protest my normal vigor and inappropriate confrontational focus, but I did wear my Obama t-shirt to every single appointment until WELL after he was elected, it was too small (after I put back on all the baby weight), often covered in baby puke and always in dog hair and embarrassing to Jaime. But I couldn't quit him. He's been a pediatrician for 30+ years and had the infuriating habit of always saying the right thing. The first appointment we had, I unknowingly brought Piper wrapped in a poop-covered blanket and burst into tears as he unraveled her. I was sure he was going to call Social Services, but all he said was, "Good, so now we don't have to look in her diaper. Stool looks healthy." When I told him Piper was a terrible sleeper at 11 weeks and asked if/when would she ever "sleep the night," he took one look at me and said, "You look pretty well-rested. Does she sleep more than 6 hours at a stretch?" I look shocked and said, "well, of course" and he said, "She sleeps the night. Here's a prescription of Ambien for you to sleep it as well." God (or Jesus) help me, he got me. He laughed gently at all my neurotic concerns about Piper's (lack of, in my mind) development, but never once made me feel stupid. He assured me it was normal that she had tantrums and probably not an early sign of psychopathy and that the fact that she wasn't walking at a year did not mean necessarily mean she'd somehow acquired polio. So, four years later and another Presidential election to contend with, we're still together.
And while I don't necessarily credit a higher power with that fact, it has turned out to be damn lucky. At age 4, Piper is, um, strong-willed, obstinate, maybe - full on drama queen really and genuinely horrified when "forced" to do something she does not desire to do. I put those annoying quotes around forced, because it is physically impossible to force her to do anything and she proved that strength at the hands of 4 adults while at the doctor's office recently. She was pleasant in the car, OK in the waiting room, weeping when asked to get on the scale, full-on crying when the doctor entered the room, wailing when he suggested he needed to take her photo, and flat-out violent when he asked if I would help her undress. I don't want to replay the whole scene for you as I still have a bit of PTSD, but let's just leave it at this - Piper left without being examined and screaming as if on fire, I left crying and sore from trying to hold her, Jaime left half-naked and bruised from an amazingly powerful right hook by a preschooler and the entire office staff watched as Piper ran out of, not just the exam room, but the entire office suite. The doctor said from the beginning we should probably not pursue the exam, he followed us out to the car to check on us after her dramatic escape and answered my email the next day that no, he did not think we abused her and no, she is not banned from the office. In fact, he wrote, let's bring her into the office a few times before we try to examine her again, so she can play in the office and with the equipment. Oh and that no, he's pretty sure she won't be a serial killer. So, while I won't be eating at Chick-Fil-A anytime soon, damn it, that Christian Republican is going to keep getting my money...with my pleasure.
