The second time around: Anxieties and perspective

During my pregnancy with Elle (heck, even before we conceived), I feared labor and delivery, largely because of my history with the "incidents." I tried not to think about it too much, as I knew that the more I contemplated something that I'd inevitably face, the more I'd freak out about it. I knew that one way or another, that baby was going to get out of my belly, and I really had no option, aside from vaginal or Cesarean birth. My history with all things medical was part of the reason I feared the c-section that my doctor thought might need to happen (because as we tracked Elle's growth, she was full steam ahead until the very end) - and I didn't want to schedule a c-section from the beginning because that would give me that much more time to worry about it.

If it had to happen, I knew that it would happen and I would be fine. But I didn't want to KNOW about it much more than an hour before hand, if that makes any sense.

Luckily, I was able to deliver her without the surgery. I know that doesn't mean that same will automatically happen for Wesley, and even though I've been through it before, I'm still quite anxious about the whole thing. Overall, though, emotionally and mentally, I feel better about the final few weeks - while pregnant with Elle, the uncertainty of everything was enough to drive me mad. I didn't know how I'd go in to labor, when, etc. I was working more than an hour away from the hospital I planned to deliver at and had no definite end date at work, so each day toward the end of my pregnancy was kind of a crap shoot as to whether I would show up or be able to finish my shift. I didn't know if I'd be laboring in the hospital for hours on end before finally delivering - turns out, I was only in the hospital for about 30 hours total, arriving at triage at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday to being discharged around 2:30 p.m. on Sunday.

I remember the first contraction - knowing instantly that everyone was right when they said I would "know" that this was the real deal. I continued to have contractions that afternoon and then all night, twisting and turning and trying to get in the best position to handle them and knowing that *this* was it, that I'd be going to the hospital some time in the next few hours. It was early in the morning when we left for the hospital, and I figured I'd have plenty of time to update friends and family members that I was, indeed, in labor. That didn't happen, as things progressed much faster than we expected, and the first contact most people had from me was early in the afternoon - a text message with a photo of Elle announcing the time she was born.

I remember the pain of lying in the hospital bed with Pitocin - pushing, pushing, pushing, battling against the frustration of a sleepless night and a huge baby who didn't drop until the very end. Am I looking forward to doing that again? Hell no. But at least I know a) I have done it and survived and b) what to expect, at least partially. I think the fear of the unknown - how bad will it be? how long will it last? when will it happen? - was part of the worst of it last time, and knowing that my body handled things well the first time brings me peace of mind.

And now, I work about 20 minutes away from the hospital. The doctor has been laid back about my pregnancy the whole time, despite the fact that my baby could be large again. I have a definite end date at work - this Wednesday, a day 10 days before my due date. My biggest anxiety about the "circumstances" this time is what will happen with Elle when I go in to labor. We don't have any family in the area, and I really want Tim to be in the delivery room with me, so that means someone has to watch Elle. Luckily, we have about half a dozen close friends/babysitters, people who Elle would be comfortable with and delighted to have around, who have graciously agreed to be on-call for when Wesley decides to make his appearance. Having so many people ready and able to help us is a huge weight lifted, but I still worry about the details - what time will it happen? depending on how/when things start happening, who do we call first? who do we call second, third, etc.? will there be false alarms? will we cut it too close (I was only at the hospital to four hours before Elle arrived, and I have a feeling this delivery will progress just as fast if not faster)? Will Elle be able to stay at home, or will we drop her off somewhere to be watched while her world turns upside down?

Elle and Sid are obviously not as worried as I am about
what will happen when I go in to labor with Wesley.

I have to believe that things will work out - they actually worked out quite well with Elle's delivery, and even though the doctor started to discuss the possibility of an induction at my appointment this week, I'm still holding out hope that the forces of the universe will all come together and surprise me with some sort of seamless falling together. I'm trying not to focus too much on the thoughts of labor and delivery and instead just enjoy the "now," knowing that the rest is out of my control and things will work out one way or another. I have four or five friends who are all due within a few weeks of me, and two of them have already had their babies. It's definitely getting more real now. At this point in the game, I must admit that as far as pregnancy goes, there isn't much to worry about except for the labor and delivery part of things, but worrying about it won't help or change things, so I'm just savoring the massive belly movements, finishing up some projects around the house and looking forward to any extra time with Tim and Elle in the next few days.

Birth video? Puh-lease

I realized last night that I haven't actually watched a "birth video." Tim watched one when poking around the online materials for our Prepared Childbirth/Lamaze class, and there are countless videos available on the internet, but I haven't watched one and don't intend to. The reason for this is two-fold: I don't handle stuff like that well, and I've witnessed a live delivery.

I shall explain.

When I say "I don't handle stuff like that well," I'm not kidding around. In eighth grade, we watched a video in home ec (I have no idea why) about liposuction (it was actually a segment of Geraldo that we were watching). I got really light-headed and dizzy and asked to go to the restroom. The hallway blacked out and the bathroom was spinning as I crumpled in a cold sweat against the bathroom wall. As my blood pressure returned to normal, I recovered, but it was my first brush with "I don't handle stuff like that well."

Similar events happened while discussing dislocated shoulders in ninth-grade health class, watching a video of wisdom tooth removal (it was required by insurance that I be aware of what would be happening to me, although I think I should have just remained in the dark) the summer after high school, getting a cyst on my foot x-rayed in college and getting my eyes examined the summer after college. It had gotten to the point where all someone needed to do was vividly describe a medical procedure and my blood pressure would drop, I'd break in to a cold sweat, the room started spinning and I would black out. Not exactly a fun way to live, and I *have* gotten better, but even my coworkers know that a photo of a bloodied hockey player's mouth could sent me sweating and desperately trying to stay conscious.

The best part? Tim is very much like me in this way. Not triggered by the same things, but he's had the same thing happen a few times. I've already informed my friend Traci that she may need to be at the hospital simply so a non-medical professional is conscious for the birth of our child.

So how on earth did *I* manage to witness a live delivery?

I think adrenaline kicks in for me in times of crisis. If Tim was gushing blood, I don't think I'd pass out - I think I'd go on auto-pilot and handle the situation. I hope I never have to find out, but that is pretty much what happened when I saw my mom deliver my youngest brother, Doug.

Doug, at left, was our family's "surprise" baby. My older sister was 20 and my younger brother, nicknamed Yogi, was 15 when we found out that Mom was pregnant. It wasn't planned, but it was pretty exciting, and I, especially, enjoyed the fact that Mom and Dad would not be empty nesters any time soon. I was heading in to my senior year of high school and wasn't excited that Mom and Dad were having a baby right as I was heading off to college, but luckily I ended up going to college near (but not too near) home and was able to spend a lot of Doug's younger years close by.

On a Friday night in mid-January, Yogi and I were at the high school playing in our high school's pep band as the basketball team played a conference rival. Around 9 p.m., my mom's best friend, who lives near the high school, walked up the bleacher steps and told our band director that we needed to leave - our mom's water had broken.

The cheerleaders - many of whom were friends of ours and knew that the baby could arrive any day - saw us gathering our stuff to leave and cheered.

Yogi and I drove home and found our mom and dad still there - they were waiting for us before leaving for the hospital. We got to the hospital, and Dad and Yogi hung out in the waiting room. My mom had never had any family members present during the delivery of her first three children, and I was the first non-medical professional that she allowed in the room, which was pretty cool.

At 11:50 p.m., Doug was born.

Here is what I remember:
* Jay Leno was on the TV when Doug was born.
* My mom had an oxygen mask on, and for the first time in my life, I heard her say she "couldn't do it." I remember thinking, "Uh, Mom, you kinda have to" and wondering what the doctors would do if she really couldn't do it.
* My mom - who didn't have an epidural - pushed for about 15-20 minutes.
* The medical staff left the curtains open on window at the end of the hospital bed "in case we wanted to watch." It served as a mirror to what was going on with Doug's birth. Mom didn't want to watch. I wanted to remain conscious, so I decided it was best if I didn't watch, too.
* Mom thought that Doug sounded like a goat when he first cried.

So you see, I've witnessed a live delivery, but I don't remember any of the gory details or the particulars. I don't even remember how long we all stayed at the hospital after the birth - I just remember spending a lot of time there that weekend (photo above is from his first full day in the hospital) and being afraid to pick Doug up because he was so tiny.

And it is probably better that I don't remember everything - whenever and however Elle decides to arrive, I think the details will be a blur, and any pain, discomfort, fear, etc. will be temporary. The main thing is she'll be here. And when I get freaked out about labor and delivery, I focus on that - soon, we'll have our own little goat. I don't need to see every aspect of a birth - it is something that has been happening since the beginning of time. I understand the logistics. But the end goal is what my blood-pressure challenged, dizzy mind is set on.

Survey says ...

Survey says I hope the majority of you are WRONG :)

The results of the latest poll show that:
* Four of you think labor will start when my water breaks.
* Seven of you think labor will start with contractions but no water breaking.
* One of you think I'll go in to labor during the day.
* Seven of you think I'll go in to labor at night.
* Six of you think I'll go in to labor while at work.
* Five of you think I'll go in to labor while at home.

What I'd prefer would happen is that my water breaks sometime while I'm at home. I don't care if it is night or day, but I'd like a clear sign, and I'd like to not be at work or grocery shopping or at the gym when it happens.

I hope those of you who disagree with this are wrong, but knowing my luck, the majority of you could very well be right on the money. Guess we'll find out in the next few weeks!

Be sure to vote in the new poll about how long my labor will last ...