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| I call this picture "pop out and smile" |
So apparently baby sister was already trying to compete with big sis and have an eventful pre-birth "look at me" "look at me" moment. At 35 weeks preggers I switched doctors to one that was willing to let me attempt a VBAC minus the extra $2,000 you-have-to-pay-for-it-if-you-want-a-baby-to-come-out-of-your-vagina fee. This meant loosing my beloved midwife, but Steve and I were confident in the decision. At 35 weeks everything looked great, but over the next week I started getting cankles. I never had any swelling with Charlie but I knew lots of people that had crazy pregnancy swelling without any concern so I didn't put too much thought into it. At my 36 week appointment my blood pressure was high and I had protein in my urine, both red flags for pregnancy preeclampsia. The doc thought it was fluke, as did I and sent me home to monitor my blood pressure. Overnight things looked worse and in the am as instructed I trekked over to Winnie Palmer thinking I was probably wasting my time. At Winnie Palmer my blood pressure was awful and my labs looked sketchy and they wanted to admit me overnight, after putting up a little fight, I gave in. I hate feeling like a sick person. The doctors reassured me I had done nothing wrong and one of them told me I could win a nobel peace prize if I discovered what causes late pregnancy preeclampsia. I peed in a bucket for 24 hours and got poked at a few more times, and had my blood pressure taken a few hundred times, and listened to baby girl's heart thumping away on a monitor. I was on bed rest with bathroom privileges.
Thursday night a doctor came in after all my test results were back and told me that I was having a baby (c-section, since they would not induce a VBAC and I was not in labor) that night pending the results of one lab (platelet count). He said that if "by some miracle" my counts went up then I could maybe go home (after telling me my risk for seizure and my baby's risk for brain damage). After frantic e-mails, scheduling, phone calls, and what-not, to get somebody to the house and Steve to the hospital and some sort of plan for Charlie Belle for the next day, I got my miracle (thank you Jesus). Test run just to remind me what an unbelievable, amazing, wonderful, supportive community we have here to love our baby girl, rearrange their lives, and step in at the drop of a hat. Phew. I was discharged under the premise of a c-section being scheduled Monday and popping over to Winnie Palmer over the weekend for a non-stress test (to check on baby) and blood pressure check, and of course to continue the strict bed rest. I was oober stressing over all the little pre-baby preparations I never got to finish, the mess that was my house and car, and the fact that I was going to be confined to a bed (I know...wahwahwah). Aunty Heather arranged for a bunch-o-friends to come over and do an incredible amount of things on my long list of psycho-nesting, and as uncomfortable as I felt being on the receiving end of that service, I was so relieved to have those things done. In retrospect, having those things done I think allowed me to chill out a bit about having the baby so soon and probably even let my body get things moving (I was convinced my newborn would contract West Nile Virus or gangrene from my disgusting car).
So Saturday after my testing at Winnie Palmer I got a call from one of the docs about scheduling my c-section, and after some discussion they allowed me to be on the schedule for Wednesday instead of Monday. They told me my only hope of having a VBAC was to go into labor on my own and I really thought their was no way considering I would just be 37 weeks pregnant. Sunday night (I would be 37 weeks Monday) when I went to sleep I was feeling some light cramping with my braxton hicks contractions but thought nothing of it. At 2:30 am I woke up thinking I was dribbling pee or my water broke, when I stood up I had more of a little gush of water (or pee?, since I was convinced I was one of the many pregnant ladies peeing herself thinking her water broke). I was having more frequent contractions and just tried to ignore it. I kept waking up to contractions and after realizing I was continuously leaking fluid I woke Steve up and said "I think my water broke" and he popped up and I said "go back to bed, at least one of us should get sleep." The rest of the night I had irregular spaced out contractions that kept me awake and persisted through a warm shower. I just kept thinking "could this really be happening." The next morning I called the midwife I was with previously with and asked what I should do. I was afraid if I went to the hospital too early I would end up with a c-section. She had me come into her office so she could check to see if I was dilated and give me some herbs to move things along. When I got to her office I was 5cm. Contractions had picked up and at home I had a mild freak out about going to Sanford (about 1 1/2 hours round trip) and having contractions confined to a car. Steve talked me into going anyways. I took some herbs, did some walking and squatting and headed back towards Winnie Palmer around noon, now having more consistent contractions 4-5 minutes apart. When I got to Winnie and got checked in and they checked to see how dilated I was the nurse said I was 8cm and in 2.5 minutes (literally) they had put IV's in me, drawn labs, had me hooked up to monitors, and wheeled up to labor and delivery. When I got up there they wouldn't let me go to the bathroom unless a doctor checked me first because they didn't want me "birthing a baby on the toilet." It was a bit of a whirlwind, all the while thinking "this is 8cm, man, this isn't nearly as bad as the last time," and when the doc checked me she chuckled and said I was 5-6cm. Oh little Eastwood babies, jokesters from the get-go.
To be continued....
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