#daughterofanobstetricianproblems

I say "problems," but really, it's mostly benefits that are perceived by the rest of the population as potentially awkward or problematic. But it took me a long time to understand that having an obstetrician as your dad might be considered embarrassing. The whole having "the Talk" with my dad instead of my mom was a little very off-putting, but other than that, my father is most embarrassing when not representing his profession.

For example, one of his passions appears to be public yodeling. This is traumatizing for a preteen girl. Owning Yaz® sticky notes is not.

It's also not awkward when dinner conversation centers around the female reproductive system. It's not awkward when women come up to your mom and say, "I just love your husband!" It's not awkward when your teachers tell you they saw your dad the other day. It's not awkward when your dad can explain to you exactly what happens in the uterus during the menstrual cycle because of how hormones interact. No other parent could explain it better. And it's also not awkward when your dad explains how birth control pills regulate hormones so the periods can happen more smoothly and naturally and how they are the only known preventative measure against ovarian cancer. And it's not awkward when your dad explains to your little sister how politicians are turning abortion into an anti-feminist issue. It's not awkward when you listen to your dad talk in awe about what an infant being born must be experiencing, going from knowing nothing besides a dark, warm, small space, to being bombarded with all these sensations of light, space, and sounds and breathing a crying on its own for the first time.

I will say, I think the playlist for c-sections is a bit cheesy, but as long as your generation enjoys it, go for it.

It took me a long time to figure out that people other people might not think having a dad who specialized in female anatomy for a living was awesome, and by the time I did realize it, I didn't care what they thought anyway. There were a few friends who made fun and I let them, but I never could never really see things from their perspective. And there were a few non friends who did not have nice things to say on the subject. I may have been an incredibly insecure middle schooler, but I was never insecure on that topic. I've loudly discussed birth control in front of Catholic friends who made me confusedly promise not to tell anyone they were on it. These social taboos are stupid. Why can't we talk about this stuff? It's science and it's cool! I thought those pictures from my dad's surgery where he removed a ball of hair and teeth from someone's uterus was fascinating (it's called a teratoma) and I don't understand why other people didn't think so.

Oh, and to that boy in my 8th grade English class: You are not allowed to make fun of my dad. He is an amazing doctor who listens to patients, understands them at a surprisingly profound level, and helps them have better, healthier lives. He saves lives and brings new life into the world. He's delivered several of your friends and a few famous people's children that I'm not allowed to say because of patient-doctor confidentiality. He brings home huge chocolate cookies from the cafeteria and is very useful for AP Biology projects. I really don't think you have any grounds to make fun of him or anyone else who wants to be an obstetrician.

He's rather dyslexic and can't spell or pronounce anything, nor can he remember anyone's name,
so I suppose you can make fun of him for that. You can also get mad at him for sleeping through all of my concerts because he can't stay in one place for too long without falling asleep. He also gets irrationally angry at waiters and doesn't understand animal rights, which I get plenty angry at him for, so you don't need to. But overall he's really great and his profession is noble.

One time my dad kind of apologized for being an obstetrician. I was surprised. Being an obstetrician was great. Being a doctor was not so great. Why? Because people have no imagination. And so when you're dad's a doctor and you pay attention in school every single person has been telling me about my future career as a doctor. When I got glasses in 1st grade my teacher told me I looked like a doctor. When my 7th grade math teacher handed out awards to everyone, mine was "Future Doctor." Why? "Because she's smart, and, well..." (the sentence she didn't finish is that my dad delivered her baby 2 months earlier.) People have seemed legitimately offended when I answer, "Are you going to be a doctor?" with a forceful "No." One of the best compliments I ever got was a few weeks ago when I was visiting my old chemistry teacher and she said, "I can't see you as a doctor."

In case you're wondering, I want to be a scientist. From 2nd grade when I read about Jane Goodall watching a chicken for 4 hours when she was 4 years old until this past year, I wanted to be some sort of zoologist. Then I realized that I could never really feel like I was doing anything if I watched animals all day. And since ever single subject in biology aside from ecology is fascinating to me, I want to do something more molecular.

I think I should rename this blog "Tangents" because that's the only thing you'll be able to count on in these posts...