Was probably the most emotionally demanding day of my life.
My doctor's appointment (41w1d) was a rollercoaster of emotions. First of all, I was thrilled because it was with my favorite doc out of the 5 rotating OB's at my practice. He was supportive of my hopes for low-intervention and was very laid back. When he checked, baby was head down, everything seemed good, but I had nothing going on "down there". Since we were at 41 weeks and he knew induction was a last resort for me, we did the "NST" which is where they monitor the baby's heart and movement and their response to any contractions (not that I had any). Sometimes they give you a low dose of Pitocin before they do this just to try to manufacture some uterine movement, but my doc didn't. No biggie, JTD passed with flying colors and the only hurdle left was the ultrasound. We were fully prepared to go back home and wait another week if needed.
Plus, the prospect of an ultrasound was really exciting...as someone with a normal pregnancy, I had not seen my little boy in pictures since my 18 week appointment! My excitement, however, faded as the ultrasound tech took measurement after measurement and commented more than once about my fluid level, saying it was harder to get a clear picture with so much less amniotic fluid in there. Also, my little guys' parts were measuring much smaller than they should have been. For a 41 week baby, the doc was probably expecting to see an 8 pounder, but what we saw was more like a 6 pounder with thighs measuring at 36 weeks. Had my baby stopped growing?
That, and the low amniotic fluid, made the decision for Doc. He called us into his office and said, "it looks like a great day to have a baby". My husband beamed like a proud new dad while I tried to hold back my tears. I knew what was coming. I was only dilated 1cm, having no contractions whatsoever, and the baby hadn't even really dropped. At this point, we had our bag packed and ready, but we still asked if we could go home and come back. Mainly because I was kind of in shock, and my husband really needed to mow the lawn. No, really...it had been more than a week and we knew it would be another week before he could get to it.
We left with plans to come back to the hospital that evening, and I cried almost the whole way home. Hubby decided it was a good plan to stop by work and let them know that he was taking his 2 week "paternity leave" starting then, and one of his co-workers felt the need to come out and congratulate me. So there I was, sobbing in the car, feeling even more guilty because I should be elated at the fact that I would be a mom the next day, and all I could think about was how it wasn't supposed to happen this way. While hubby mowed the grass I furiously signed online and read every birth story I could find while researching Bishop's Score. My Bishop's Score gave me a 45% chance of a c-section. Somehow, I knew as soon as I saw that, that I would be having one. So I did more research on c-sections and calmed myself down a little with the birth stories I saw posted that ended that way. I didn't want it to end that way, but at least I felt more prepared. (Thank GAWD that episode of Gray's Anatomy where that baby's arm gets severed during a c-s hadn't aired yet.)
I think I was finally feeling more myself when we got to the hospital. I was reading my gossip mags, hanging in bed, excited that I would finally get to feel labor pains. No, I'm not kidding, I really couldn't wait to feel a contraction. At this point, I was READY. For anything. I knew I could handle it.
Oh, how God takes our plans and throws them out the window sometimes.
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