Dr. Douthit

Friday morning, I received a call from my OB’s office. Since I have a 1:20 appointment scheduled for Monday, I figured it was just the standard confirmation call. I was floored when the receptionist regretfully informed me Dr. Douthit had passed away. She was calling to ask patients to keep their appointments and to let us know we’d be seen by one of Dr. Douthit’s partners.

I got off the phone and bawled. I won’t pretend that I know Dr. Douthit personally, but he guided me through my pregnancies with Anna and Kate, and I had come to find comfort and a sense of security in his kindness and expertise as he oversaw my care for our newest little squirt. He had a way of making me feel as though he looked forward to my appointments. He answered questions and asked questions, taking time to get to really know me and my family. From what I’ve heard floating around and seen on facebook, he was able to convey this same sort of genuine passion for his profession and patient investment to all his patients. I never felt like an afterthought. I don’t think anyone did.

When the bleeding with this baby was at its worst, Dr. Douthit put his hand on my shoulder and told me I couldn’t call too much. He said he was there to take calls and was never bothered by them. He said, “if the bleeding gets worse, if you have a bad feeling about things, if you have a bad dream, you can call and even come in to listen to the heartbeat.” When I asked him if the outcome of this pregnancy was essentially a crap shoot, he kindly steered my thinking in a different direction, telling me we had every reason to remain optimistic while being aware of risks and best practices. He was skilled at delivering accurate, honest information without killing hope.

Brian commented to him once that he didn’t know how he could work with hormonal women all day every day. Dr. Douthit’s response made me smile: “Well, I’ll admit I’m not much for conversation when I get home to my wife in the evenings, but I don’t know what I’d do without it.” There was sincerity in his voice and in his eyes.

It is, admittedly, unnerving to think of transferring to another doctor in the midst of this pregnancy. Although the other doctors in that office are fantastic, it’s not a shift I am eager to make. When you factor my hormones into the situation that would be emotional enough without them, I can look like a hot mess pretty quickly.

And I know heartache extends far beyond his patients to his colleagues, his staff, and especially his family. Sudden losses are always hard; losing someone this close to Christmas stings even worse.

My dreams have been filled with all these thoughts for the last two nights, and I can’t seem to shake the thoughts from my wakeful mind, either. Not knowing what else to do, I just keep praying. I keep praying that God’s protection and presence would continue to follow my baby, my family, me. I keep praying that the Douthit family would find joy in the midst of grief and be able to see God’s hand on them. I pray they’d have the hope they need, the support they need to muddle through sorrow. I pray for the people at his practice and the other patients he served. Sometimes, I don’t even know what to pray, so I just press into Jesus, breathe, and close my eyes.

There’s a nervousness and heaviness I can’t quite shake about my appointment tomorrow. Although I know everything will be okay, it’s still weighing on my mind.

So grateful for a God who is big enough to hold every single hurting heart while giving each individual person exactly what he/she needs. Life is short; Heaven is long. This is an instance in which I’m grateful for that, too.