Thursday, March 28, 2013

Before Baby (The Start of our Birth Story)

on the phone with my OB:
     "I'm ready. Let's just get this show on the road."
     "Ok. I'll schedule an induction at 6am Monday. See you at the hospital!"

The worst part of the end of pregnancy, at least for me, was wondering when. By week 39 I wasn't terribly uncomfortable, or too huge. I just wanted to know when I was going to finally meet our baby. It was killing me. Each day I'd wonder to myself if that day was the day. The excitement, the anticipation, finally knowing if we were having a boy or girl...but WHEN?! The pregnancy pendulum swung from exciting to tedious.

I spent the majority of my pregnancy accepting the fact that my baby would most likely be born via a scheduled c-section. With a very low laying placenta, concerns for an abruption, hemorrhaging, or other complications, I was carefully monitored. At 36 weeks it was decided that the placenta's location was fine, so a scheduled C was deemed unnecessary. Then baby showed some signs of distress at our week 38 NST. An induction was discussed. Inductions often lead to a c-section, especially if baby is already struggling during contractions. The major consolation in all this was, at very least, I got to know when. I mentally prepared myself for surgery. Ultimately, I didn't care. I wanted a healthy baby by whatever means were the best and safest. My birth plan was simply to have a baby.

Then, when my doctor threw me a curve ball and suggested I could pass my due date, which previously hadn't been an option, I felt completely overwhelmed. I thought I was guaranteed a baby by October 26. At the end of a pregnancy, days turn into years. They drag and drag and you can't imagine waiting. any. longer.

Did I need to be induced at 39 weeks and 3 days? Not exactly. Did I want to? Heck yes. "Let's just get this show on the road".

And, so, we set our alarm clocks for 4:45am on Monday, October 22 knowing that the day had come. We were going to meet our baby.

the night before

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