Spoiler alert: I had a c-section.

I know. Of all the people to have a c-section, it had to be the girl ranting about the ridiculous increase in c-sections and how many of them are performed unnecessarily. In my defense, I have also been saying that when they are necessary, they are extremely useful and I am grateful we have access to the medical technology. I just happened to be one of the few who actually needed one.

I'm still not sure how much detail I want to go into in a public forum, but the gist is that I was in active labor for 30 hours, 20 hours under direct midwife supervision. I couldn't eat, was getting dehydrated and was rapidly losing energy. My cervix never got much past 80% effaced and 5or 6 cm dilated, and the baby was not moving down. The my cervix started to re-harden. Un-efface, if you will. We made the decision to go to the hospital for an epidural.

Yep. I had an epidural. It was absolute magic. I was exhausted, and the contractions were agonizing. I was sobbing through each one and when I got dehydrated, dry sobbing. Then the back labor kicked in - the baby was still pretty actively moving around in there, and the vomiting started not long after that. Before we went to the hospital, I had the distinct thought, "I am in serious trouble, here." I was beginning to move from worried to terrified. When that anesthesiologist walked in with the epidural... I have never been more relieved to see anyone in my life. Eventually, the epidural wore off some on the right side and I had to have it increased. I was tipped over to the left to keep the baby's heart rate up and such and so the epidural was flowing away from the right side. I should mention that this epidural was crazy strong. I couldn't feel my legs. But I was so exhausted and in so much pain that I didn't care. I was just so glad to have some relief from the pain. And honestly, after 30 hours? I think I earned it. And I'm leaving out the more gory details about stretching membranes and how it was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. Bar none. And I've had multiple piercings.

So, under the influence of an epidural and pitocin, I finally fully effaced and dilated, and pushed for and hour and a half. I didn't understand time-travel in relation to labor until then. Because it seemed like the blink of an eye. The baby's heart rate had been dropping and then took a pretty severe dip. This, in combination with the meconium in the amniotic fluid, and the fact that he still wasn't moving down into my pelvis despite pushing, made the doctor call it. Time for a c-section. I cried. A lot. But ultimately, I recognized that we had tried literally every other option. Time to move on.

Our Butterbean was born on February 28. He had the cord wrapped around his neck twice and his legs once. He couldn't move down into my pelvis because he was so tangled up. He also had to have his lungs suctioned to make sure he didn't aspirate any meconium. Aside from the doctor who delivered him and the pediatric nurse who worked on him immediately afterward, Allen was the first to hold him. Once I was all sewn up, they let me have skin to skin contact with him all the way back to the room. They never pushed formula, never took him out of our sight. They did take him to the nursery a few times for tests and pediatrician visits, but Allen stayed with him the whole time. All in all, we were pretty impressed and pleased with how they treated us. We didn't have to fight them on anything. It was a much better experience than I could have hoped for.

Recovering from a c-section sucks. I have no idea why anyone would choose this over a vaginal delivery. It's major abdominal surgery and it's tough to bounce back from. Plus, epidurals mean a groggy baby. And a c-section means no delayed cord clamping and no immediate contact with your baby. Having said all of that, I have absolutely no regrets about the c-section. It was absolutely the right decision and I am grateful to the doctors and nurses who delivered our baby guy into the world. If we didn't have access to the medical technology, we would have had a very poor outcome for both me and the baby.

A c-section was my very last choice in delivery options, and I still kind of can't believe I ended up having one. But I am positive that it was the right decision. And though I am in the throes of recovery and all that entails, I look at my beautiful, perfect, healthy son and I can't be anything but grateful.

Six in one, half dozen in the other.

I'm trying to decide where I fall. I am halfway between feeling really bullied and feeling persuaded by sound and logical reasoning. The short version of the days' appointment is that the baby is doing great (they didn't even leave me hooked up to the non-stress test for a full 20 minutes because he's so obviously fine in there), my cervix is posterior so they couldn't really tell if I was effaced or dilated (but the general opinion is no on both), and while the baby has dropped some (I went from measuring 42 cm to measuring 40 cm), he's still not that far down in my pelvis.

So here's the part where we make "a plan". See, I thought that everyone would just leave me alone until I hit 42 weeks and then we'd start talking about intervening. This is why I wanted midwives. I thought that doctors would be in my face about interventions starting at 38 weeks and that midwives would understand that babies come on their own schedule and would leave me be. This is not how it works. The midwives have been discussing what to do if I go late since my 38 week check up. And at my 40 week and 6 day check up, they started talking about more aggressive measures. I am now scheduled for the &^%#*@ AFI, which I strongly and vehemently protested. But the midwives (and the back up doctor) were absolutely adamant that I needed it on file. I won't go into another long rant about this ridiculous "diagnostic". I know you are as tired of hearing it as I am of saying it. I'll just say that I do not intend to let anyone make decisions about my healthcare based on this number, and I plan on doing my utmost to skew the test in my favor, including drinking as much water as I can possibly hold.

The next items we discussed were a foley catheter to mechanically open my cervix - I'm sure it's as pleasant as it sounds. Then castor oil, acupuncture, evening primrose oil, (ahem) "relations" with my husband, and finally cervadil (a chemical cervical ripener). I balked at all of these. Well, not all, but I'm trying to be delicate as this is a family blog. ;-)

I spent a lot of the past two days crying and feeling like the midwives and doctor were ruining my pregnancy. I was so upset yesterday, in fact, that I was ready to pack the car, drive to The Farm in Tennessee, and beg Ina May to deliver my baby. I have loved being pregnant and am in no huge hurry to expel this baby from my uterus. So having everyone up in my business about getting him out now is upsetting to me, to say the least. Plus, and this is the naked and bare truth of the matter: I am terrified of the medical machinery we have in place for mothers and babies. I am terrified of the hospital, terrified of the interventions, terrified of a c-section. And terrified that they will pull out "your baby could die" and either a) I'll buy into it and end up doing more harm to myself and my child, or b) not buy into it and end up doing more harm to myself and my child. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

So, after all of this upset, including a tear-filled conversation with one of the midwives about feeling bullied (my tears, not hers), I decided I needed an attitude adjustment. I considered calling my oldest friends' mother - a midwife who has delivered many babies - and asking for a second opinion. Then I realized I already knew what she would say. "Get the damn foley catheter! At least it keeps you out of the hospital and off the pitocin!" My "inner Joan" led me down the right path, as I knew she would. I have been obsessing over my fears about the medical machinery, and I've been spending a lot of time worried that I would be caught up and chewed through by that machinery. But what I needed to do was look at it from the other angle. The midwives are doing the lowest tech interventions that they possibly can in a bid to keep me out of the medical model. I should be willing to help them reach that goal, rather than fighting them every step of the way.

So while I am not thrilled to be doing any of this, I am feeling better about taking steps to keep this birth out of the hospital. I am waiting for a call back from the acupuncturist and hoping for an appointment sometime between Sunday and Tuesday. I'm going to try castor oil after that and then probably cervadil. I think I'll skip the foley catheter as I have some experience with catheters in reproductive organs (testing done last year for infertility) and it was excruciating. We're also going on walks and swims this weekend in an effort to move things along, as well as taking evening primrose oil. I think if I show the midwives that I am ready and willing to cooperate, I have a much better chance of putting my foot down about the induction timeline. You have to pick your battles, so I'm choosing mine to be that I get until Saturday morning before I go to the hospital.

The best outcome, of course, would be for me to go into labor this weekend or Monday morning and make all of this moot. Everyone keep your fingers crossed for that one!

Non-stress test.

I plan on drinking juice before I go in for my non-stress test today, just to make sure Butterbean is wiggley and active.

Allen thinks that's cheating. :-)

Just in case you were wondering.

http://haveyouhadthatbabyyet.com/

I have two (count 'em!) appointments tomorrow. One with the back-up physician and one with the midwives. Non-stress tests and consultations and plans for if I transfer to the hospital.

It's gonna be a long day. Sigh.

Target.

I went to Target today looking for shelves. As I was waiting in the long checkout line, the woman in front of me (with a full cart of stuff) asked if I wanted to go ahead of her (I only had 2 things to buy). I gratefully accepted and chatted with her and the woman in front of me (with an adorable redheaded baby girl) for a minute while we waited.

She asked when I was due.

"...Last Friday, actually", I said with a smile. She replied, "Oh my gosh! I'm so glad I let you go ahead of me!"

It made me laugh. She was also of the opinion that he'll come when he's ready - that babies know what they are doing and that I shouldn't worry overly much about being late.

It's been a good day.

Overdue.

My god, you guys. I really wish everyone would stop freaking out that I haven't delivered yet. It's making me seriously crazy. Only 3-5% of babies are born on their due dates, so why is everyone shocked that my kid is late? Most first babies are late!

Now, in addition to the midwives wanting an AFI and a non-stress test on Thursday (at 40 weeks, 6 days), I just got a call from the doctor who backs them up at the hospital wanting me to come in for a consultation on the same day. Why is everyone on my case about this?! He is only 3 days late! I was born 15 days late, my brother a week late, my sister-in-law had all her kids between 7 and 11 days late. Everyone needs to chill the fuck out. I'm not kidding. I'm starting to get really pissed about this. If you have to be relaxed and not stressed out for labor to start and/or progress, these people are doing a piss-poor job of helping me out in that respect.

This is verging on hysteria at this point and I'm sick of it. He'll come when he's ready. Everyone else can back off. Right. Now.

Still waiting.

Just in case you were curious, no baby yet. Our due date (yesterday) came and went without any fanfare. But realistically, only something like 3-5% of babies are actually born on their due date. We're enjoying the last moments of pregnancy, so I'm not fussed about wanting him to be born right this second.

These are the last moments where we will be one. Pretty soon I'll have to share him with the world. Right now it's just me and him - totally dependent on each other and on Allen to take care of us both. It's nice and while I am so excited to finally meet my squirmy little guy, I know I'll miss these moments of quiet contemplation. Where I know everything about him and yet he is a total mystery to me.