Some days, my life is a poorly written SNL skit

I love Gawker for a variety of reasons and have spent much too many hours happy hours perusing the site for years.  

I saw this a few days ago and it reminded of Norwegian hospitals.* 

If you're going to have a baby in Norway, you get a letter from your local hospital about 3 or 4 weeks before your due.  That letter instructs you to come in to the birthward to pre-register, which should be a great thing.  

You meet with one of the midwives who will take your info and confirm your details (name, address, etc....).  This midwife is also supposed to make notes about your wishes (all natural vs drugs, language requirements for caregivers, would you like a window, etc....) 

So on the day (or evening) when you came in for the birth, whoever is on duty can pull out your file and be good to go.

This is especially important because the person giving birth (in this case, me) will not have ever met or have ever seen whoever is on duty at that moment.  

The person delivering the baby (in this case, Pickle) will be a complete stranger and just whoever happens to be on duty.  

Yes, the only person I will know at the time will be Husband. 

So when I say this appointment is important, it's because it is. 

Ours was not very successful.  

We had Kari, The Wonder (Mid)Wife.**  

Over the course of our 20 or so minutes, along with our other wishes, we said we'd like a note put into our file that I would like an epidural and that any caregivers should be fluent and comfortable speaking English.

She informed us that because Husband knows some Norwegian, that English speaking wouldn't be as important.***  

And more so, that, if she were the midwife on duty, she'd take an assessment and decide whether or not I could have the drugs, but that it would really be better for everyone if I practiced breathing and used the gas.**** 

After that, I was slightly disturbed, but even more so, when she began chit-chatting while she was typing into our file.... 

___________________________________________

Kari, the Wonder-Wife:  So what do you think of your new president?

Me:  I am thrilled

K, t WW:  Thrilled?

Because I thought she may not have heard me or perhaps didn't understand the vocabulary or some such, I tried again.....

Me:  Thrilled. I think he is a good man and just the right person to deal with the giant mess.  He's got a hard job, though. 

Still nothing.  Just a quick glance and silence.  So I gave it one more try.

Me: But what do you think?

K, the WW:  Oh I don't know.

And, in one last attempt to be cheery, plus clearly she had something to say...

Me: Really? Most people have some sort of opinion.

Kari, the WW: Well, I think a change is good, but I don't; know about a black man. Or any colored really.  And by colored, I mean any colored person other than white. We've only had people that are colored here for about 30 years and I don't think we'd let them run the country.

Me:   Huh. 

Husband, who has been silent until now:   Huh. 

Kari, the WW: Yes, you know how we are here. We like our own people.

Me: That's funny. I guess we just like all sorts of good, brilliant people back in the states.

Kari, the WW:  Well, that's not very Norwegian, is it?
_________________________________________

It was so odd and weird and unfunny, that, in between my rants about the system, we laughed about it until we almost cried. 

I am going to deliver the Pickle in the middle of an SNL skit...and a poorly written, not so funny one, at that.

**************************************************

*Or to be fair, it reminded me of one instance and one midwife in one Norwegian hospital. 

**And no, doctors don't get involved in these parts, unless surgery is needed.

***To be fair, Husband is actually fluent in the Norwegian language, so that note in our file would be valid and totally on point IF Husband was in actual possession of the particular ladyparts from which our Pickle will most likely emerge.  He is not.  I am. My Norwegian is only fluent-ish through Lesson 8 in my textbook.  So being able to ask a shop-person if they have a green sweater in my size won't be as useful in this case.

***The "gas" is the same gas used in the dentist office, in the case you need a bit of drilling.  One friend of mine, who missed the window for an epidural here because they told her to go home.  She took a long walk around the hospital grounds, came back and her daughter was born 90 minutes later.  She used the gas as a last resort and said "It does take the edge off and the mask is useful for screaming into."