The Doctor

Babygirl went to the doctor this morning. I told her in advance that the doctor would touch her tummy and look in her ears. She repeated "doctor" and "tummy" and seemed all right with the idea.

I did not warn her about the dangers of standing on the scale at the doctor's office, even though I should have known. I cry when I have to stand on the doctor's scales, too. Doesn't every American girl?

As I was taking off her shoes so I could place her on the scale, she asked to go home in a mournful voice. Then I stood her on the scale and at the exact same time, the nurse stuck a thermometer in her left ear, saying, "Oh, I'm sure she's had this done lots of times before," and Babygirl let out a yelp, following by an outraged scream.

Babygirl is not accustomed to having her temperature taken, nor is she used to people shoving things into her ear. She's never had an ear infection, nor has she ever had to see the doctor for an illness. And she resents anyone entering her personal space. So, she continued crying while I held her against the wall so her height could be measured.

My Babygirl is now 26 pounds and 34.5 inches--in the 50th percentile and 75th percentile, respectively. I took her to the doctor last when she was 13 months old. That visit went very badly, with Babygirl screaming her head off and the doctor consulting her computer charts and gravely telling me that if Babygirl didn't fatten up, she'd have to have more tests. "So bring her back in two months for a weight check and a flu shot." The doctor didn't give me time to ask questions, nor did she ask anything about Babygirl's development (which was perfect, because she is the Perfect Baby, aside from her stranger anxiety). I was very upset with the doctor's doom and gloom comments about my long, thin girl who was and is very healthy and smart.

I didn't take her back two months later. In fact, I didn't take her for her 18 month check-up either. I fully expected to be scolded today, but everyone was quite pleasant. Everyone except Babygirl.

We will never know Babygirl's head circumference, because she refused to let either me or the nurse put the measuring tape around her blond noggin. Then the nurse pulled up the computer screen showing Babygirl's immunizations and glory be to God! Babygirl was up to date on her vaccinations! I thought she'd missed some scheduled immunizations from the missed 18 month check-up, so I was fully expecting Babygirl to get a shot or two today.

The nurse left and Babygirl settled down, only occasionally gulping and hiccuping and saying "Go home! Go home!" When the doctor opened the door, Babygirl jumped and started crying again.

Then the doctor had the nerve to look in Babygirl's eyes and ears. She pressed on Babygirl's tummy and examined her spine and her hips and Babygirl shrieked as if she was being eaten by alligators, one finger at a time. This is a child who will never be abducted because anyone foolish enough to snatch her would regret it within ten seconds, drop Babygirl and slink away. Babygirl will not stand for anyone to touch her or talk to her or get within two feet of her.

When we left, I said, "Say bye-bye to the doctor," (who'd just given her a Barbie sticker) and Babygirl paused for a split second as if considering a polite "bye-bye," then turned her head again and hid her face behind my neck.

Then Babygirl said, "Donuts," and so, just to ensure that Babygirl will indeed remain above the 50th percentile in weight and as a bonus, also have an eating disorder, we went straight to the drive-through donut shop and bought a dozen donuts with chocolate frosting.

Her brothers whooped and hollered as if it were a surprise holiday when they saw the donuts. It was. A holiday, I mean. It was "Babygirl Had No Shots Day," a cause for celebration, indeed.