Supportive Husband and Pregnancy Stress – Gratitude Project Day 8

This morning, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I have reason to be grateful for my wonderful, supportive husband.  I was pretty freaked out and upset about not being able to get a midwife.  I was certain that I was going to end up with a repeat cesarean, whether I want one or not.  And, yeah, there were more than a few tears.  This is one of those times that I was so very grateful for having a supportive husband.  You see, my husband’s first inclination whenever something has me that upset is to fix it.  He loves me.  He wants to make everything better.

It was with heavy heart (and raging fury) that I called my family doctor for an appointment to get another referral.  Hopefully this time to a doctor who won’t waste my time, otherwise I’m not going to actually have any freaking prenatal care at this rate.  I’ll show up at the hospital and a resident will have to catch or something.  (Okay, I’m still pretty mad about this shenanigans.)

When the husband came home from work, he tried to fix everything.  The one thing that he could do was go to Taco Bell and get me the vaguely defined food product that I wanted.  I couldn’t remember much about it beyond it was some sort of chicken burrito and it had rice.  I hate Taco Bell and hadn’t eaten it in over ten years.  He came back with what I wanted, and even took the liberty of ordering it without tomatoes.  (I hate tomatoes.)

And then we talked about things that were bothering me.

I found it so very strange that I was freaking out over potentially not having a VBAC delivery.  Why was this so very important to me now, when I’d never given much thought to it before?  Why am I fighting for this option now, after only a few days of considering it?  Especially since vaginal childbirth scares the Hell out of me?  (By the way, special thanks to the hospital in Dade City, Florida… which was then known as Humana of Pasco… for making childbirth as traumatic for me as possible.)

And then I realized why I was so angry about how these things were going.  My choices were being taken away.  Without a midwife, there is absolutely no way that I can have a home birth or a water birth.  Those options are automatically off the table.  My hospital has a 22% VBAC delivery success rate.  I don’t know if that’s because there are some doctors (like Dr. T) who won’t even touch you if you want to attempt a VBAC delivery or if some women decide to forgo the VBAC altogether in favor of a repeat cesarean.

I decided that if I’m not going to be part of the 22%, it’s because there had better be some sort of demonstrated medical reason.  As in, one of us had better be at risk of death.  And you know why I’m so grateful for my supportive husband?  He told me that it’s my decision and he understood.  He also told me that he didn’t want me to feel like I had to do a VBAC for his benefit.

I love that man, and he really does complete my life.

What are you grateful for today?

Repeat Cesarean and Accepting Defeat

Repeat Cesarean and Accepting Defeat (Cloth Diaper Addicts)Apparently, my chances of having the VBAC delivery are dwindling.  There are three midwife practices in Prince George.  They are all booked up.  After my craptastic appointment with Dr. T, I have little hope of getting a VBAC delivery from an OB/Gyn.  I really, really didn’t want to be forced into a repeat cesarean.  Not wanting to be forced into a repeat cesarean was one of the biggest reasons that we were looking into using a midwife.  But there’s no chance of using a midwife now.

I’m so, so very disappointed.  I went through a time of crying.  I’m angry.  If Dr. T hadn’t wasted my time with waiting for an appointment with him, perhaps I could have gotten in with a midwife.  But instead, I got screwed.  I’m twelve weeks pregnant and change, and I don’t even have a freaking plan in place for prenatal care.  I feel cheated.

I feel like I have no choice, and I’m going to have to have an unnecessary surgery that I don’t want.  The last thing that I want is a repeat cesarean, especially if I don’t need it.

I’m already frustrated with everything being up in the air.  And now I’m just so angry.

Of course, even if Dr. T hadn’t essentially strung me along by making an appointment instead of just saying right off the bat that he wouldn’t be available to deliver, I still wouldn’t have been able to get a midwife.  There are a grand total of three in my city.  And they work in the towns that are within an hour or two of Prince George, too.  So, yeah.  If you don’t call to book with a midwife the second you get that second line, forget it.

My poor husband, of course, has no clue what to do.  He wants to fix it, but there’s really no way to do so.

Hopefully, there will be a doctor in my city that will support my VBAC delivery preference.  If I’m lucky.  I’ll definitely have to give birth in the hospital (and on the bright side, they can’t try to give me pitocin this time around), and I won’t get to have a water birth even though the hospital does have the option available.

Either way, it just seems like my options are being taken away from me.  And the funny thing is, two years ago, these options never even interested me.  Go figure.  So what’s changed?  Why is this something important to me now?

Graphic Images Make VBAC Delivery a Little Scary

I’d been thinking about attempting a VBAC delivery. Actually, no, we’d decided that a VBAC delivery was going to happen. I was torn between having a repeat c-section to avoid the trauma of birth (my first childbirth was just horrible) and going for VBAC delivery to avoid the healing time of major abdominal surgery. My husband’s desire to see his child come into the world instead of being behind a screen while a surgeon lifted our child out of my womb was the thing that put me in favor of trying a vaginal birth after c-section.

I’ve been reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. It’s supposed to be a wonderful book that’s empowering, educational, and encourages women to make their own birthing decisions rather than be bullied by medical establishment into doing things that are not necessarily in our best interests. (I mean, really, it would be nice if all doctors made decisions based on the welfare of the patient rather than concern about malpractice suits. But they don’t always, and I can’t blame them for wanting to protect themselves in an overly litigious society while they try to help someone else.)

There’s one thing that I wasn’t anticipating: pictures.

I don’t want to see exits. I really don’t. I know, childbirth is supposed to be beautiful, blah blah blah. But the biggest concern that I’d had about natural childbirth (or even a VBAC, for that matter) is my husband being anywhere below the waistline. I’m just not certain that him watching that closely when our kid exits would be favorable to our sex life in the future.

I mean, really, I don’t want us to be spending some, uh, “quality time” together only to have the mood ruined because he flashes back to our kid’s face looking at him as the exit is made.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I flipped through the book, found a photo of a baby being born sunny side up, and handed it to him. And then I told him that this was why I wanted him to stay above the waistline. And then he saw my point and realized why I was rather concerned about that.

Now I think he might be swinging back to being perfectly happy with a repeat cesarean. There’s no danger of him seeing more than he should that way. Either way, he finally understood what I’d been getting at when I told him I didn’t want him to be able to catch. And he’s thinking about things.

Did you have a vaginal birth? Where was your partner standing?