Brazilian Baby Doctor

April 14th was our first trip to the doctor. His normal hours start at 8am, so we were told to come at 7am to meet him and get set up, since I am so far along in my pregnancy. So 5:30am we pick up Lindsay, who knows this doctor, and knows how to get there.
Caid's main concern is getting me there. And luckily, it is not too difficult. Without traffic (well, much traffic), it is about 50 minutes. It is a straight shot with one turn at a big building that says "BIG CAR" on it. There is also a Subway (they are taking over the world), Habibs (Brazilian fast food), and Bob's Burgers (Brazilian burger place) around the corner. These are the important things for Caid to know (and keep himself fed).
I am still working on reality setting in. Goodness--I am still working on "I am having a baby" reality to sink in. I still wake up at times with a jolt, thinking, "WHAT IS TRYING TO GET OUT OF MY STOMACH!" Then there is the "I am having a baby in Brazil" reality. Then there is the "I am having a baby in Brazil without my family and in Portuguese" reality.
So we drive up to the building and it is like "So this is where I am having my baby. We wait and meet the receptionist and it is "So this is who I pay when we are having a baby." We meet Dr. Renato Grandi and it is "So this is the doctor who will help me have my baby."
All of my US paperwork and tests were put into Brazilian form and the doctor checked me over. The sweetest part was when he was measuring my tummy and listening to the heartbeat--he got such a look of love on his face--you could tell that he just really loves babies. He gave us his personal phone number and then went over the costs, which are an interesting Brazilian concoction.
Everything went well, and the doctor said the baby looks great, but as I went to the restroom (again), I had a mini-panic. It is just so different. It is a nice hospital--everything I need. They are nice people--and well trained-but it isn't the same. It isn't the USA. It is just different. So is talking to the doctor in Portuguese. And it just tugs at me sometimes, asking "Why? Why are you doing things differently?" Most of the time, I have an answer. And I believe that answer firmly. But sometimes I forget and question everything--Why am I doing things differently?
The question I really want to ask is why am I so programmed to go along with the program--why is it the default, and everything else to be questioned?

(This is my questioning face--and my new haircut)