Here we are, almost 2 weeks before the due date that the doctors set for me (I still think my actual due date is May 7th) and I know less now than I did the first time around. Trust me, I was no expert then either. This post may get slightly graffic in places (I’m talking to you, Dad), so anyone squeamish or who doesn’t want to hear about my lady parts, I understand if you don’t read this post. I promise, no pictures. Lol.
At my April 7th appointment, I had my first vaginal exam in months and found out that I was already 3cm dilated and the baby was in position. This was a month before my due date and well before I had hit my financial freedom goal for taking the summer off. It was also a week and a half before my baby shower. I was NOT prepared for this baby. Not even a little bit. I was terrified. The following Monday, I went to the hospital for an ultrasound to check on the baby’s size because he/she was measuring a little larger than he/she should have been. At that appointment, they told me the baby was approximately 7lbs 3oz and that he/she was breech. For those of you that don’t know what that means, the baby’s head was up by my rib cage instead of head-down like it was supposed to be. While there are methods that can be tried to coax the baby into the proper head-down position, my doctor does not practice any of these methods. According to her, a breech baby means having a planned c-section.
Just for a little back story here, I am a very small woman. I’m 5’1″, 115-120lbs when I’m not pregnant. I’m built very much like my mother, who had 3 children, all via c-section. When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was convinced she would also come out by way of a c-section. It just made sense to me. When she was born naturally, I was amazed and very proud that my body was able to deliver her without surgery. This time around, just as naively, I didn’t even consider a c-section because everything went so smoothly last time around. So, this news caught me off guard. I’ve gone a wonderful 34 years without any kind of surgery. I’d like to not start now, if possible.
I didn’t find out about the c-section until the appointment with my regular OB-GYN on April 13th. We talked over the possibilities, scheduled another ultrasound for the end of the month, and set a tentative c-section date of May 4th if the baby still hadn’t turned by the next ultrasound. I’ve been stressing about it all since. Having a c-section means a longer recovery time, not being able to drive for up to 6 weeks, needing to be more careful picking my baby up and putting him/her down. It means a longer time of not being able to run around outside with my daughter, who is already so starved for Mommy’s attention because I’m so tired all of the time. It means my guts will be outside my body and I have to trust that the doctors will put everything back where it is supposed to go. I know that thought doesn’t show much faith in my practitioners, and that’s not how I mean it. I’m just terrified of doctors in general. The idea of surgery is not relieving that fear.
Last Wednesday, I went back for my weekly appointment. This time I saw the male doctor in our group. I brought up my concerns about the baby being breech. He pressed down on my lower abdomen, in the exact location where 2 weeks before the other doctor in the group had told me the head was down, and tried to convince me that the baby had turned and was, in fact, in position. I tried to hide my doubt. He still wants me to go for the ultrasound this Wednesday, but not because he thinks the baby is breech. Apparently, my monster baby is in the 92nd percentile and he’s worried about the baby getting too large. Not so large, however, that they will induce me early and let this pregnancy come to an end. No. They plan to wait until May 18th, one week after their approximated due date. Most babies gain 1/2 a pound per week in the last month of pregnancy. That means 2 1/2 more pounds. On top of the 7lbs 3oz they were calling on April 11th. That’s almost a 10 pound baby. Again, I am a very small woman.
So, damned if you do and damned if you don’t. While I’m scared to death of having surgery, even if it is scheduled and routine, I’m also terrified of giving birth to a toddler. And yes, I know that I’m exaggerating. I also know that this is all going to happen exactly how it is supposed to happen. I’m still allowed to be nervous. And if the c-section is going to happen either way, whether it’s because the baby is breech or because it is far too large for my body, I’d rather have the May 4th baby. I’m over being pregnant. I’m over being unable to sleep at night because of the heartburn and the body aches. I’m ready for my wonderful husband to share the joy of the last few months and wake up in the middle of the night instead of me. “Your turn, babe,” sounds like music to my ears at this point. And, funny as it sounds, my inner geek would like my equally geeky husband to have his Star Wars baby. “May the 4th be with you!” 🙂