Most recent routine OB appointment this past Friday suddenly put everything into perspective and things got really fucking real.
We are having a baby.
And she’s coming soon.
This past Wednesday, I found myself in the middle of a work meeting and contracting more than really should have been happening, so I ended up spending a few hours in Labor and Delivery at the hospital where I will eventually deliver. While I wasn’t thrilled about going, it was nice to have a ‘dry run’ of sorts. All ended well, and the contractions were knocked out with a liter and a half of Lactated Ringers. Baby girl was beyond reactive on the monitor. She was indeed so active, the nurse had a helluva time KEEPING her on the monitor. I chuckled. She’s already a spitfire.
Friday I recounted my visit to L & D with my NP. In the course of the conversation, it came up that after an ultrasound there, we found that baby girl is sitting squarely on her bottom. Frank breech.
Shit, she already seemingly has the concept of yoga down pat.
With this development, it was discussed that she really has three solid weeks with which to turn herself around. If she fails to flip vertex (head down) by my next appointment (1/13/14), we will go ahead and schedule my cesarean section. After going over all the pros and cons of surgery, discussion with my husband, and an external version, I had made the choice to go ahead with the decision of surgery, if necessary.
Am I disappointed? Let’s define disappointment. I won’t lie: I would love to attempt another vaginal delivery, but not with a breech baby. I’m not THAT confident in my hips and pelvis, and to be quite honest, I’m not willing to jeopardize this little princess that currently floats on her bottom inside my womb. It’s just not worth it. If she flips, I’ll give it the ol’ college try, and be happy with that. If not? Book the OR, Dano, and let’s get this show on the road. I originally felt as if I was cheating my husband out of the whole birth experience by opting for a cesarean section, but as he so adamantly told me, “We worked hard to get her to this point. Let’s not negate that by being selfish regarding which means she enters the world.”
He’s absolutely right.
Oh, and let’s not forget my lady bits. Fifteen years ago when I delivered my son, I became the proud mother of not only an 8-pound baby boy, but a lovely fourth degree laceration. I won’t post a picture of that. I’ll let you Google it on your own. Suffice it to say, when you are unlucky enough to get one of these, it can be the ticket to an immediate cesarean without question. Google it. You’ll see why.
So, for now we wait. And we wonder what’s going on in there. As of my appointment this past Friday, she had mixed it up a bit. Baby girl was now not only breech. She is a footling breech.
This might explain why I feel this almost constantly:
So, after discussion with my NP, I realized that either method of delivery is a win. Vaginal is good, and I kinda know what to expect anyway, and cesarean is okay, too. Safe and healthy for mom and baby is key. Priority number one.
With cesarean discussion, NP said she would like to schedule the surgery at 39 weeks or so.
This means we could be meeting our daughter around 2/7/14.
Holy shit.
There is a light at the end of this pregnancy tunnel, and it’s only weeks away. We may actually have a DATE to meet our baby girl. I guess that finally just hit me over the head like a damn brick.
Ow.
We’re getting there, baby girl, we’re getting there.
