You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have...
Today I have been back to work for one month. Cohen is four months now. Ainsley and Freddie have been in school for five weeks. We should be settling in to a new routine, but instead, I feel like my life is in a tailspin!
The first time you have a baby, you are shocked by the change to your lifestyle. You wonder how you ever got anything done...EVER. Laundry piles up, dishes don't get washed, dog hair accumulates in the corners, and it's hard to remember your last shower.
Then eventually, you adjust. You figure out a new system that works. I think after Ainsley it took me about a year. Maybe you don't scrub the bathrooms once a week anymore and maybe toys scatter the living room floor, but you become okay with your new reality.
Then the next baby comes and you think, "well I've already done this, so I'll go back to my normal routine again." But you forget how exhausting life is with a baby. How you're nursing always. How everything takes just a bit longer. And that you now have this new person to fit into your family. So again, toothpaste builds up on the bathroom sink, fingerprints don't get wiped from the windows, and mail takes over the counter.
Again...you adjust. You nail that new system. I think after Freddie, it took me less than a year...maybe 8-10 months. Now hopefully you can get the sheets washed once a month and the toys just belong in the corner of the living room. But again, you change your expectations and you learn to live in the new now.
So then you have a third baby...and wow, are you dense. Because really, you think "I've done this twice, how hard can it be." Hard. It can be really hard. So hard that you end up on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of your disgusting kitchen while your children run around naked because it's bath night - but you don't have time for a bath because it's also bedtime, and your baby gnaws on your arm because you haven't had time to feed him yet.
I walk in the door right around 5pm every night (side note...I leave work at 3pm - yeah NOVA traffic rocks). In that moment the baby needs to eat, the dogs need walked and fed, the older kids want a snack, dinner needs to be cooked, homework needs to be completed, everyone wants to enjoy the cool weather outside, and all I can think about is crawling into bed.
I wonder how long it will take this time? And I wonder what my new normal will be? Before Cohen came along, I had a system. A few simple chores each night, heavier cleaning on Saturdays, groceries on Sundays, a load of laundry every night. Now, Clif has has gone to the store two nights in a row for things we can't get by without. I'm not sure when I'll be able to fit in an actual trip. I don't know when I'll be able to sign up for a 5K or train for it. It may be years before I see the bottom of the hamper again. Not sure if I'll be able to finish Cohen's letters before he outgrows the crib.
But I do know that we will all come out of this eventually. We always do. I have my moments of utter hopelessness. I'm a crier. It's the way I let off steam. But somewhere in the back of my brain is always this little chant "This too shall pass, this too shall pass." My life can be spinning out of control and a little voice keeps saying "This too shall pass, this too shall pass."
And it will pass. The good and the bad. It always does. And even though I am eager for this constant overwhelmed feeling to pass, I can not wish away the days or hours. They already fly by too fast. So I will take the good with the bad. Because the good is seeing Ainsley finally figure out a tough word in a book, even though I'm digging through the dirty clothes to find a pair of pants that haven't been spit up on. The good is listening to Freddie sing a new song, even though the sink is too full of dishes to drain the pasta. The good is seeing Cohen smile ear to ear, even while delicately removing the onsie he just pooped all over.
Even in the chaos and mess, the good comes through.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
The Name Game
Naming someone is very hard. Clif and I take it very seriously. We want names that are unique but not weird. We want names that mean something. I don't mean that the name needs to mean peace or love or anything, but that it has something behind it. And I do not want to see my kids' names splashed all over every kid's show and kid's store advertisement. If it's in the PBK catalog you best believe a thousand people are falling in love with it.
We picked Ainsley from a TV show. And not a current TV show. The West Wing. Which was not on when Ainsley was born, but my husband is obsessed with it and watches the whole series once a year. Well, he used to, before we had three children.
It is still the most beautiful name I've ever heard. I love it. And it's not over used. There are lots of pretty names, but you just hear them everywhere. Coming from a Jaime Lynn who was born the year the Bionic Woman hit the airways, I think it's nice to have a name like no one else. Even though my mom did not pick my name because of the Bionic Woman, I ended up in elementary school with two other Jaime Lynns. In a small school I was forever known as Jaime L. And they were Jaime G. and Jaime M. Then when we got to middle school there were two more Jaime Lynns. They ended up being Jaime T. and Jaime R.
So I'm glad that Ainsley, so far it seems, will be the only Ainsley. Her middle name is Lynn. My middle name, my mother's middle name, my mother-in-law's middle name. Then my sister is CaroLYN and my sister-in-law is CaitLYN. So lots of Lynns.
Freddie was our easiest child to name, but it was the most difficult nickname. I didn't want him going by Frederick Clifton White IV. Though Clif and I always knew that if we had a boy, he'd have that name. I love it and it has history behind it...it's the 4th one in a row. But Freddie was tough. I didn't want him going by Clifton or Clif, not because I don't like the name but because I didn't want two in the house. We tried to find something with the IV, like people do with III (Trey, Trip, etc), but nothing really worked. People suggested Ivy or Court to play off the 4. Nothing really struck me as perfect.
Freddie was the very first nickname we thought of, but I didn't really like the idea of people calling him Fred. So then I tried to think of other Frederick nicknames...Derick, Ricky. All nice names, but just too common. So about a week before I had him, we decided...Freddie. So far we don't know any other Freddies and have not come across any in school or other activities. I personally think there is no other name that would fit my Freddie better. Even my mother-in-law (who once said "no grandson of mine will be named Freddie") agrees - love you, Denise.
Cohen was HARD. Boy names are HARD. Before we found out he was a boy and I was SURE he was a girl, we had two names picked out. Both of which would have used my grandmother's name in some way. So when he turned out to be a boy, we could not come up with something that we both liked. We had lists and lists of names. Cohen was one of the first ones I threw out there. Clif was kind of indifferent on it. Didn't love it, didn't hate it. Eventually, he came around. Flynn came from Ainsley and Freddie. It was on our list, but it wasn't my favorite. When we were at our wits end in the naming game, we enlisted the help of Ainsley and Freddie. They loved Flynn. Most likely because of Flynn Rider in Tangled. So Cohen Flynn it was. And I have NEVER heard the name Cohen on anyone.
And then today this in my zulily.com email...
WTF?!?!?
I have one thing to say...Step OFF Pottery Barn Kids. I better not see Cohen on every page of your next catalog!
We picked Ainsley from a TV show. And not a current TV show. The West Wing. Which was not on when Ainsley was born, but my husband is obsessed with it and watches the whole series once a year. Well, he used to, before we had three children.
It is still the most beautiful name I've ever heard. I love it. And it's not over used. There are lots of pretty names, but you just hear them everywhere. Coming from a Jaime Lynn who was born the year the Bionic Woman hit the airways, I think it's nice to have a name like no one else. Even though my mom did not pick my name because of the Bionic Woman, I ended up in elementary school with two other Jaime Lynns. In a small school I was forever known as Jaime L. And they were Jaime G. and Jaime M. Then when we got to middle school there were two more Jaime Lynns. They ended up being Jaime T. and Jaime R.
So I'm glad that Ainsley, so far it seems, will be the only Ainsley. Her middle name is Lynn. My middle name, my mother's middle name, my mother-in-law's middle name. Then my sister is CaroLYN and my sister-in-law is CaitLYN. So lots of Lynns.
Freddie was our easiest child to name, but it was the most difficult nickname. I didn't want him going by Frederick Clifton White IV. Though Clif and I always knew that if we had a boy, he'd have that name. I love it and it has history behind it...it's the 4th one in a row. But Freddie was tough. I didn't want him going by Clifton or Clif, not because I don't like the name but because I didn't want two in the house. We tried to find something with the IV, like people do with III (Trey, Trip, etc), but nothing really worked. People suggested Ivy or Court to play off the 4. Nothing really struck me as perfect.
Freddie was the very first nickname we thought of, but I didn't really like the idea of people calling him Fred. So then I tried to think of other Frederick nicknames...Derick, Ricky. All nice names, but just too common. So about a week before I had him, we decided...Freddie. So far we don't know any other Freddies and have not come across any in school or other activities. I personally think there is no other name that would fit my Freddie better. Even my mother-in-law (who once said "no grandson of mine will be named Freddie") agrees - love you, Denise.
Cohen was HARD. Boy names are HARD. Before we found out he was a boy and I was SURE he was a girl, we had two names picked out. Both of which would have used my grandmother's name in some way. So when he turned out to be a boy, we could not come up with something that we both liked. We had lists and lists of names. Cohen was one of the first ones I threw out there. Clif was kind of indifferent on it. Didn't love it, didn't hate it. Eventually, he came around. Flynn came from Ainsley and Freddie. It was on our list, but it wasn't my favorite. When we were at our wits end in the naming game, we enlisted the help of Ainsley and Freddie. They loved Flynn. Most likely because of Flynn Rider in Tangled. So Cohen Flynn it was. And I have NEVER heard the name Cohen on anyone.
And then today this in my zulily.com email...
I have one thing to say...Step OFF Pottery Barn Kids. I better not see Cohen on every page of your next catalog!
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Little Miss Thaaang
This is my Ainsley the week she was born.
And here she is at her first birthday.
She has just turned four in this picture.
Cute and sweet, right? Right. She has always been so sweet. I would dare say, she's just about perfect. She listens, she hates getting in trouble, she helps out, she's a good girl.
This is Ainsley on the first day of first grade.
This picture sums up my daughter these days. Hand on hip, check. Cutesy head tilt, check. Attitude, check.
There is a body snatcher in her first grade class. I sent my sweet little girl and got back Miss Attitude. There are fights, and tears, and screams, and door slams.
After 3 weeks of this attitude every day at the bus stop, I had to take a step back and really look at the situation. Honestly, I was tired of losing my mind and fighting with her every. single. day.
Little girl has plenty of attitude and sass. She's definitely feeling high and mighty these days, so she needs to be taken down a notch. I think Ainsley has been put in "time out" of some sorts more these past few weeks than she has in her first 6 years of life. I'm trying not to let the attitude escalate. She back-talks, she goes to her room. She speaks nasty, she gets an extra chore. She's ugly to her little brother, she gets a time out on the stairs. She throws a fit and acts like a 2 year old, I treat her like a 2 year old and take away 6 year old privileges.
But you see, that's the easy part. There's another component to this tug of war. Me.
Again...this is my sweet baby girl.
And I think in some way, I will forever see her this way. Big blue eyes, round face, bald head. When really, this young lady stands before me.
A young lady who is just starting to find her way. A girl who is testing the waters and yearning for independence. A little kid, on the brink of becoming a big kid...finding her own path and desperately wishing to be grown.
It's my job to preserve her innocence, to let her be young. But it's my responsibility to let her be free and become the strong, independent woman she'll be.
That balance is proving difficult. I'm not quite sure how to be this parent. For 6 years Clif and I have had to do almost everything for our kids. We've known their every move, haven't let them out of our sight. Now, she's beginning to pull away and part of the attitude is coming from me not letting her.
So I'm trying. Trying to let her wander the little girl clothes in a store, while I look at shoes. Still where I can hear/see her, but not right at my side. Trying to let her walk ahead of me from the bus stop, still stopping at every street crossing. Trying to let her play outside without me hovering, as long as she stays in a certain spot.
Ainsley is our oldest, so she will get the most bruises from this bumpy path. By the time Cohen is flexing his wings, we'll be pros. But Clif and I were both the oldest, and we turned out...okay...I think. Parenting is the ultimate dead end job. In order to be successful, you absolutely have to make yourself unnecessary. The pay is terrible, but the benefits are the best around.
And here she is at her first birthday.
She has just turned four in this picture.
Cute and sweet, right? Right. She has always been so sweet. I would dare say, she's just about perfect. She listens, she hates getting in trouble, she helps out, she's a good girl.
This is Ainsley on the first day of first grade.
This picture sums up my daughter these days. Hand on hip, check. Cutesy head tilt, check. Attitude, check.
There is a body snatcher in her first grade class. I sent my sweet little girl and got back Miss Attitude. There are fights, and tears, and screams, and door slams.
After 3 weeks of this attitude every day at the bus stop, I had to take a step back and really look at the situation. Honestly, I was tired of losing my mind and fighting with her every. single. day.
Little girl has plenty of attitude and sass. She's definitely feeling high and mighty these days, so she needs to be taken down a notch. I think Ainsley has been put in "time out" of some sorts more these past few weeks than she has in her first 6 years of life. I'm trying not to let the attitude escalate. She back-talks, she goes to her room. She speaks nasty, she gets an extra chore. She's ugly to her little brother, she gets a time out on the stairs. She throws a fit and acts like a 2 year old, I treat her like a 2 year old and take away 6 year old privileges.
But you see, that's the easy part. There's another component to this tug of war. Me.
Again...this is my sweet baby girl.
And I think in some way, I will forever see her this way. Big blue eyes, round face, bald head. When really, this young lady stands before me.
A young lady who is just starting to find her way. A girl who is testing the waters and yearning for independence. A little kid, on the brink of becoming a big kid...finding her own path and desperately wishing to be grown.
It's my job to preserve her innocence, to let her be young. But it's my responsibility to let her be free and become the strong, independent woman she'll be.
That balance is proving difficult. I'm not quite sure how to be this parent. For 6 years Clif and I have had to do almost everything for our kids. We've known their every move, haven't let them out of our sight. Now, she's beginning to pull away and part of the attitude is coming from me not letting her.
So I'm trying. Trying to let her wander the little girl clothes in a store, while I look at shoes. Still where I can hear/see her, but not right at my side. Trying to let her walk ahead of me from the bus stop, still stopping at every street crossing. Trying to let her play outside without me hovering, as long as she stays in a certain spot.
Ainsley is our oldest, so she will get the most bruises from this bumpy path. By the time Cohen is flexing his wings, we'll be pros. But Clif and I were both the oldest, and we turned out...okay...I think. Parenting is the ultimate dead end job. In order to be successful, you absolutely have to make yourself unnecessary. The pay is terrible, but the benefits are the best around.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
My Temporary Life
Hello! It's been awhile, I know...and I kind of left without a word. See, I wasn't planning on being away all summer. I tried to write...I really did. But I had some other things going on.
I guess the last time I really wrote, I was getting ready to have baby #3 and be a stay at home mom for the summer. And my thought was that I'd write all the time. I'd post so much, you'd be sick of me. But here's the thing...I barely looked at a computer all summer long. I mean, I had my phone...I wasn't totally cut off from the world. But blogging on the phone...not easy.
Well, I had him. June 9th. One day after his due date, just as scheduled...
Meet Cohen Flynn.
He was born early on a Sunday morning and he weighed 9 pounds flat. We brought him home and he's perfect. Beyond perfect. I just don't know how it's possible to love someone so much. The day we brought him home we had parents night at Cheerleading practice and in-class dress rehearsal for the big dance production.
He is a third child. There were exactly 2 days of Mommy/Daddy/Cohen time before school was out and Daddy returned to work and Grandma came to stay. In those early weeks, he spent most of his time in a car seat running to preschool and end of year picnics and dress rehearsals and play dates and birthday parties. Then June was over and school was out and dance was done and most of our friends were on vacation and we were able to breath.
I spent the summer with these three.
We went to the pool, we rode bikes, we baked, we spent some rainy days watching Disney Jr in our PJs, we went to the beach, we threw parties, we rode trains, we saw animals, we did it all. And Cohen just tagged along. In the stroller or strapped to my chest. He's a trooper...but he's a third child...I guess he has to be.
I can't write it all out in this post. I'm going to try, once a week, to post summer adventures since I didn't do it as it was happening and I want my kids to always have this summer. The memories, even if they can't remember them. The summer that the four of us spent every moment together. No day care, no camps, no school, no babysitters. The summer that I got to see how the other half lives. My temporary life. So basically, this post is just to say...I had a wonderful summer, I hope you did too...but now it's over. I'm back at work, they're back in school, and I will probably be writing and reading blogs again.
This summer there was just no time for that.
I guess the last time I really wrote, I was getting ready to have baby #3 and be a stay at home mom for the summer. And my thought was that I'd write all the time. I'd post so much, you'd be sick of me. But here's the thing...I barely looked at a computer all summer long. I mean, I had my phone...I wasn't totally cut off from the world. But blogging on the phone...not easy.
Well, I had him. June 9th. One day after his due date, just as scheduled...
Meet Cohen Flynn.
He was born early on a Sunday morning and he weighed 9 pounds flat. We brought him home and he's perfect. Beyond perfect. I just don't know how it's possible to love someone so much. The day we brought him home we had parents night at Cheerleading practice and in-class dress rehearsal for the big dance production.
He is a third child. There were exactly 2 days of Mommy/Daddy/Cohen time before school was out and Daddy returned to work and Grandma came to stay. In those early weeks, he spent most of his time in a car seat running to preschool and end of year picnics and dress rehearsals and play dates and birthday parties. Then June was over and school was out and dance was done and most of our friends were on vacation and we were able to breath.
I spent the summer with these three.
We went to the pool, we rode bikes, we baked, we spent some rainy days watching Disney Jr in our PJs, we went to the beach, we threw parties, we rode trains, we saw animals, we did it all. And Cohen just tagged along. In the stroller or strapped to my chest. He's a trooper...but he's a third child...I guess he has to be.
I can't write it all out in this post. I'm going to try, once a week, to post summer adventures since I didn't do it as it was happening and I want my kids to always have this summer. The memories, even if they can't remember them. The summer that the four of us spent every moment together. No day care, no camps, no school, no babysitters. The summer that I got to see how the other half lives. My temporary life. So basically, this post is just to say...I had a wonderful summer, I hope you did too...but now it's over. I'm back at work, they're back in school, and I will probably be writing and reading blogs again.
This summer there was just no time for that.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
The Late Birthday Letter
Dear Ainsley,
Okay, so I'm late...I mean your birthday was two days ago, so I have dropped the ball a bit. I haven't written a blog post in over a month. Let's see if I remember how.
So I always get to your birthday and think "I can't believe she's 2 (or 3, or 4, or 5...and now 6)." I can't believe it. I can't believe that 6 years and 3 days ago I wasn't a mom and then you made me one and now it's 6 years later. How is that even possible?
 |
| In the hospital - 2 days old |
When I look at you, I have to pinch myself. I can't believe you're mine. I can't believe that I've done something so perfect. When I see you with a group of kids I wonder if any of the other parents are bothered by your perfection. I know it sounds really, really snooty and uppity, but I look at you and think you are just the smartest, funniest, most talented, most gorgeous little girl I've ever met. How can everyone else not notice? How can they not be so jealous of me for getting to spend every day with you? I mean, I get to be your mom! That's the most awesome thing I've ever gotten to do.
 |
| First Birthday party |
You have grown up so much this past year. You have morphed into a full on "kid." Baby days are so far behind us. Our life is dictated by your dance/school/cheerleading/playdate schedule. You are a small person with opinions and ideas and dreams.
 |
| Second Birthday party |
 |
| Third Birthday |
 |
| Fourth Birthday |
You got a new baby brother this year. You are such a little mommy...so caring and gently with him. You'll hold him for hours if I let you and he loves you. He'll cuddle right up against your chest and suck his hand. He feels safe with you. And speaking of little brothers, you are amazing with Freddie. I probably don't tell you enough what an awesome big sister you are. You are patient and kind when he is cranky and demanding. You play whatever he wants and always give him his way...probably not the best idea, but it's just who you are.
 |
| Fifth Birthday |
I am awestruck by you every day. I'm so impressed with the little lady you are growing into and I couldn't be more proud.
 |
| Just shy of six years old |
I love you Ainsley Bug. Happy birthday.
Love,
Mommy
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Dear Baby No Name
Okay actually, you have a name...I think. But it's a secret until you show your face.
It's 11:25 and in about 8 hours you will make your grand entrance into the world. You and I will no longer share this space. Starting tomorrow morning you'll be your own little creature.
I won't feel every roll or flutter or hiccup. I won't think about every little thing I put in my mouth. I won't imagine the color of your eyes or the shape of your feet. You'll be here.
It's a little bittersweet, to know that tomorrow you'll begin your journey and that will only lead you away from me. I'm always a bit sad when a phase ends, even if it does involve swollen ankles, horrible sleep, and pelvic pressure.
But...the upside is that I get to meet you and touch your soft skin and kiss your sweet face. I can't wait for that. I wish I could skip over the needles and the cutting and the worry and go right to you snuggled against my chest. That is what makes the rest of it worth it.
So now I'm going to try and sleep. And when I wake we'll start our next phase, together.
Love,
Mommy
Friday, May 31, 2013
Decision Time
Tomorrow I will be 39 weeks pregnant.
That is the most pregnant I have ever been. Ainsley was born via C-Section at 39 weeks due to an incorrect ultrasound saying she would be over 10 pounds and that her abdomen, because of diabetes, was larger than her head. I'm really not sure if that was the case. It wasn't really brought up again.
Freddie was born via C-Section at 38 weeks because of the onset of pre-eclampsia. Although, the more I learn about stuff like that, the more I realize, I don't think I was in any danger. Yes, my blood pressure was up, it was in the 150/90 range. Yes, that's high...but it's not as high as it usually is in pre-eclampsia. Yes, there was protein in my urine...but trace amounts. I know how dangerous pre-eclampsia can be, but I probably could have waited a bit longer.
During both of my previous pregnancies I never showed any signs of labor. I never dialated, barely effaced, the baby never dropped, I never felt one contraction. I was also very uneducated about the birth process. I trusted my doctor.
She's a good doctor. But I do wish I had been more knowledgeable back then. I would have pushed back more, asked more questions, pointed out different things, because she is human. Humans make mistakes. I'm not saying she did. I'm not saying that I wouldn't have ended up with a C-Section either way, but I do wonder. I do believe that she was concerned about my well being in both cases. And I do not look back on either of my childrens' births with regret or trauma. Some women do, and I'm sorry for them because no matter how a child is born, it is a beautiful thing.
But...
Going into this pregnancy, I was fairly convinced I wanted a VBAC. I prepped for this pregnancy. I started reading and learning and asking questions. I learned a lot. I went from the girl who absolutely thought natural childbirth was insane, to completely understanding why women make those decisions. I went from the girl who couldn't believe ANYONE would birth in their home, to being in awe of the women who do.
The year before I got pregnant I lost 20 pounds. I wanted to be as healthy as possible. I wanted to give us the best chance at a VBAC. Once I was pregnant, I continued to be healthy. I knew that if complications started, my already uphill battle would become nearly impossible. And I told myself, if this is a complicated- free pregnancy, I will have a VBAC.
But...
It wasn't.
My blood pressure has been up and down. I have diabetes. The baby is measuring large. The baby's abdomen, even with a second opinion, is measuring larger than his head.
My new doctor? I like her...a lot. She's no bull shit. I've asked her every question I wish I would have asked 6 years ago. And she's answered, very honestly. She told me in 21 years she's only seen one uterine rupture, and it ended fine. In 21 years, she's seen some cases of shoulder dystocia, and even the worst case ended up being okay.
But still, it's out there. These words and phrases just swimming through my mind...Uterine Rupture, Shoulder Dystocia. And the fixes for them...hysterectomy, breaking the pelvis, breaking the baby's clavical, pushing the baby back in and having a C-Section, fetal mortality. These big fears. I have a high risk of both. Now, high risk in both of these cases is under 3%.
But...
What if I'm in that 3%? It doesn't matter if the chance is low. If it happens to you, it's tragic, and its forever.
On the flip side, if I move forward with a third C-Section, there's the chance I'll drop from a blood clot a week later. There's a chance that my internal scarring is bad enough that my decision to have a 4th child or not will not be mine. There's a chance I'll get some horrid infection in the hospital.
This has been weighing on my mind for months. How I want this to go. What my plan is. And now it's decision time.
I've decided to go with my original plan...if I have a complicated-free pregnancy I'll have a VBAC. Unfortunately, I have not had that. So I have scheduled a repeat C-Section. I don't feel great about it, but I didn't feel great about it before I made this decision either. I'm a worrier, the worst possible outcomes are going to consume my thoughts until it's over. I am thankful that I will be the full 40 weeks when it happens. No early deliveries. If I go into labor before then, I will labor and see what happens. So I guess I'm leaving it to the universe to help make this decision. However, I'm showing no signs of labor as of yesterday. But then again, I've never been past 39 weeks, so who knows.
I can't go back and change the past. I can only move forward and make the best possible decision I can with the information I have. I hope I'm doing that.
That is the most pregnant I have ever been. Ainsley was born via C-Section at 39 weeks due to an incorrect ultrasound saying she would be over 10 pounds and that her abdomen, because of diabetes, was larger than her head. I'm really not sure if that was the case. It wasn't really brought up again.
Freddie was born via C-Section at 38 weeks because of the onset of pre-eclampsia. Although, the more I learn about stuff like that, the more I realize, I don't think I was in any danger. Yes, my blood pressure was up, it was in the 150/90 range. Yes, that's high...but it's not as high as it usually is in pre-eclampsia. Yes, there was protein in my urine...but trace amounts. I know how dangerous pre-eclampsia can be, but I probably could have waited a bit longer.
During both of my previous pregnancies I never showed any signs of labor. I never dialated, barely effaced, the baby never dropped, I never felt one contraction. I was also very uneducated about the birth process. I trusted my doctor.
She's a good doctor. But I do wish I had been more knowledgeable back then. I would have pushed back more, asked more questions, pointed out different things, because she is human. Humans make mistakes. I'm not saying she did. I'm not saying that I wouldn't have ended up with a C-Section either way, but I do wonder. I do believe that she was concerned about my well being in both cases. And I do not look back on either of my childrens' births with regret or trauma. Some women do, and I'm sorry for them because no matter how a child is born, it is a beautiful thing.
But...
Going into this pregnancy, I was fairly convinced I wanted a VBAC. I prepped for this pregnancy. I started reading and learning and asking questions. I learned a lot. I went from the girl who absolutely thought natural childbirth was insane, to completely understanding why women make those decisions. I went from the girl who couldn't believe ANYONE would birth in their home, to being in awe of the women who do.
The year before I got pregnant I lost 20 pounds. I wanted to be as healthy as possible. I wanted to give us the best chance at a VBAC. Once I was pregnant, I continued to be healthy. I knew that if complications started, my already uphill battle would become nearly impossible. And I told myself, if this is a complicated- free pregnancy, I will have a VBAC.
But...
It wasn't.
My blood pressure has been up and down. I have diabetes. The baby is measuring large. The baby's abdomen, even with a second opinion, is measuring larger than his head.
My new doctor? I like her...a lot. She's no bull shit. I've asked her every question I wish I would have asked 6 years ago. And she's answered, very honestly. She told me in 21 years she's only seen one uterine rupture, and it ended fine. In 21 years, she's seen some cases of shoulder dystocia, and even the worst case ended up being okay.
But still, it's out there. These words and phrases just swimming through my mind...Uterine Rupture, Shoulder Dystocia. And the fixes for them...hysterectomy, breaking the pelvis, breaking the baby's clavical, pushing the baby back in and having a C-Section, fetal mortality. These big fears. I have a high risk of both. Now, high risk in both of these cases is under 3%.
But...
What if I'm in that 3%? It doesn't matter if the chance is low. If it happens to you, it's tragic, and its forever.
On the flip side, if I move forward with a third C-Section, there's the chance I'll drop from a blood clot a week later. There's a chance that my internal scarring is bad enough that my decision to have a 4th child or not will not be mine. There's a chance I'll get some horrid infection in the hospital.
This has been weighing on my mind for months. How I want this to go. What my plan is. And now it's decision time.
I've decided to go with my original plan...if I have a complicated-free pregnancy I'll have a VBAC. Unfortunately, I have not had that. So I have scheduled a repeat C-Section. I don't feel great about it, but I didn't feel great about it before I made this decision either. I'm a worrier, the worst possible outcomes are going to consume my thoughts until it's over. I am thankful that I will be the full 40 weeks when it happens. No early deliveries. If I go into labor before then, I will labor and see what happens. So I guess I'm leaving it to the universe to help make this decision. However, I'm showing no signs of labor as of yesterday. But then again, I've never been past 39 weeks, so who knows.
I can't go back and change the past. I can only move forward and make the best possible decision I can with the information I have. I hope I'm doing that.
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