There is something satisfyingly perverse about listening to Kraftwerk while working in quiet reading room of the public library (also known as the local history room), which is what I am currently doing.

I have just arrived at said library from my first gynecological appointment in five years. I last lay splayed on the table at my six week post-partum visit. AJ slept in the corner in his carrier.

This is, of course, a new doctor, seeing as the commute to the last one was a little unwieldy. It�s an entirely female practice � everyone from doctors to secretarial staff. Strangely, I�ve never had a female gynecologist, at least not a regular one. I used to go to Planned Parenthood, just because the university health system was so insane and the nurse-practitioners there were all women. But that was a different kind of place � highly clinical.

This place tried to be as unclinical as possible. It was as if they were trying to convince you that you�d walked into a spa instead of a doctor�s office (the fact that they have a masseuse on staff doesn�t hurt that image). Nor do the flowers in the exam rooms. And hand lotion. And an array of feminine hygiene products artfully arranged in a painted ceramic box. And you should see the bathroom � glamourous. Instead of the clinical table, I was seated on something that looked like a lazyboy�with stirrups (well, some things are non-negotiable), giving me the impression that I was about to be served tea instead of a speculum up the hoohah. Hey, what do you know! Tea! But also, eventually, speculum. Like I said, some things are non-negotiable. Still, it was about as pleasant as such a visit can be. And when I took a closer look at some of the wall art, I was amused. The exam room included a page from a 1950s manual on housewifery. The bathroom included a copy of a Toulouse-Lautrec painting (made by one of the doctors) of prostitutes lining up for medical exams, looking bored in their underwear.

There was one slight problem, however: a lack of soundproofness. I was surrounded on all sides by the sounds of baby heartbeats. I was unprepared for the hormonal effect of that sound. It�s one of the best sounds in the world. Somehow I wound up walking out with a prescription for prenatal vitamins as well as one for a mammogram. No one told me my late thirties were going to be this confusing.

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