Day 73

     I'd like to preface this post by stressing that I am speaking from my experience and there is NO judgement being passed on how anyone else delivers their baby. This is my journey to come to terms with circumstances out of my control. 

     Twenty weeks pregnant as of tomorrow and officially "halfway" through this pregnancy. Today being #tbt, I was contemplating an old photo to use when a link came across my Facebook newsfeed- 10 Unexpected Things to LOVE About Childbirth. This struck a nerve and I knew I had to get a few things off my chest.
   
     When I went to childbirth classes during my last few months of pregnancy I remember looking around the room and silently judging the other moms. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I did. During the session on c-sections, I completely zoned out and whispered to my husband that we didn't need to pay attention because I wouldn't be having one of those. I was going to have a natural, med-free childbirth. I was going to feel the primal urge to deliver my child into the world. This is what my body was designed to do. C-sections were for other women, not me. The instructor gave us the breakdown of the percentage of c-section births and I looked around the room and mentally picked out the other couples who I thought would be having them. Maybe my birth experience was karma paying me back for being so judgmental.

Our first picture as a family of three

     Lucas's birth came via emergency c-section after 27 hours of labor, preceded by a few weeks of bed rest and medication to prevent an early delivery. The bed rest seemed so ironic as I waited over a day for any sort of labor progression.

     In the moment when Lucas's heart rate dropped and everyone rushed into the room, my doctor said they needed to get the baby out and I didn't argue. My hopes of the natural birth I had dreamed of were gone, but I needed my baby safe. I watched Jim dress in the blue scrubs for the operating room. There were nervous jokes. Would Jim pass out? I had never had surgery like this before. Would I be able to see the baby? We didn't even know what we were having. Would I ever wear a bikini again? The things you think in moments like these. What follows is my stream of conscious more or less. It's still fresh in my mind over 5 years later.

     They roll me into the OR. Things happen fast. The sheet goes up. Was something on fire? Why did I smell burning? Jim tells me not to worry. I feel vague pushing on my abdomen and then there is crying- from all three of us. A boy is born. I can't see him. Jim is with the baby. I'm strapped to an operating table with the contents of my insides exposed. Only a sheet separates me from an open belly. The baby is crying. Single Ladies was playing on the radio. Is it weird if I sing? Where is the baby? Can I see the baby? The nurse brings him over to me and places him against my cheek. I cry. They take him away and Jim goes with the baby. Does he look like a Lucas or is he Sam? Lucas! His name is Lucas James. OK. I have a baby boy. I begin to panic. Why can I feel pushing? I'm uncomfortable. SHIT, I'M HAVING SURGERY! What if something happens? I'm a mom! I never held my baby. I want my baby. Panic. Panic. Panic. I start to thank the doctor for taking care of me. I trust him. I know he did what was right. This was what we needed, right? He assures me. The priority was the safety of the baby and me. I am OK. Am I OK? This isn't what I wanted. Can I go back? Did this just happen? Wait, it's over? Can I hold the baby? Where is the baby? Where am I going? Recovery room? Will I see the baby? How is the baby? Jim comes to me and tells me the baby is great. The family is out there looking at him. I want him. I WANT MY BABY! I grew him. He's my baby why can't I see him? I need to recover for a bit before they bring him to me. I'm alone. Where is the baby? I cry. I tell myself I should have paid attention to the c-section session. The woman in the bed next to me is nursing her child. We are separated by a curtain, but I hear her. I can't believe I failed. 

     I've never let go of this experience. I felt so betrayed by my body. This wasn't supposed to be my experience- this was for someone else. In the years that passed, I listened to friends tell stories of their labors. Some where quick, others drawn out. Some were medicated, others were not. Some were vaginal, some were c-sections. I compared myself to every one, never judging others (I learned my lesson) but I was judging myself. Was I less of a woman because I didn't experience a "normal" delivery? Was I a terrible person because I couldn't let it go? I would get so frustrated with myself because I know that I had a beautiful baby boy and without that c-section, things may have gone very differently. As the weeks after delivery turned into months and then years, I distanced myself from my negativity (with the help of a fantastic therapist). I embraced my amazing child and was thankful for modern medicine, which allowed the delivery to be safe for both of us.

     When it came time for my second birth, I had hopes for a VBAC but those soon vanished as complications arose during the pregnancy. I went into the c-section prepared, experienced and in a much better state of mind.
     As I prepare for the months ahead, I know baby number three will be delivered via c-section. I also know that I am a damn strong woman. I did feel a primal urge with the previous deliveries and while it may not have been the desire to push, it was the desire to make sure my child was safe. There is nothing stronger than that feeling.


   

Day 72

     No Shave November? How about No Pants November?

The only view in which I can see my feet over my belly

     18 weeks down, 19 more to go (until I'm considered full term and safe to deliver). Almost halfway there and I'm now experiencing a fall/winter pregnancy. I'm surprised to feel this way, but I find it much more difficult than carrying during the hot summer months.
   
     The reason? I have to wear pants.

     In the summers, I wore breezy dresses and skirts and never had to worry about squeezing my expanding belly (and other areas) into constricting clothing. Yes, I know yoga pants are wonderful, but on the occasion that I must be out in public to pick up my kids from school or bring them to soccer, I'd rather secure this body in something a little more structured. I'm not sure if the first image I want to present to the other kindergarten parents is my bottom half challenging the ability of my spandex to keep it together...

     Once I'm home, I now go pants-less or wear my loosest pair of leggings. However, I'm getting to the stage where nothing is loose and it will only get worse. I guess this is one of the positive sides to being home on disability- not too many people see me. My pants-less way of living only has to offend my family. And let's be honest, my children would rather be pant-less too.

Day 71

     Yesterday I found myself in a panic while I was getting dressed in anticipation of my first progesterone shot. I decided I needed a little bit of encouragement.

Doesn't every 35 year old woman own a pair of these?

     Odd as it may seem, I own quite a few pair of superhero themed underpants. Maybe it's my attempt to connect to my superhero loving children or maybe it's because the further I go into my 30s, the more I appreciate a good pair of cotton briefs/boy shorts. Either way, on days I need extra support, I usually sport a pair of Superman or Wonder Woman underwear. I know it's silly, but we do what we need to, right?
     I went to my doctor in the afternoon and arrived late so I had to wait longer than I would have liked.  Too much time to think is never good for me. I have been pumping myself up for weeks for these shots. I read about all the possible side effects, asked friends for advice and continuously reminded myself that any discomfort I felt now would be better than meeting this child for the first time in a NICU isolette. Still, seeing the little jars of medication and syringes definitely freaked me out. The shot itself was fine, the ride home was uncomfortable and the remainder of the night was painful. Today has been pretty rough as well. Like a friend of mine had warned me, this medication definitely stops you in your tracks. The physical pain I feel now is worth it in comparison to the mental pain I will avoid.
   

Day 70

     I have finally graduated from looking like a bloated mess to pregnant mess.

Lucas's view of mommy

     Despite my frustration with bed rest, the pregnancy is progressing quickly . I feel little kicks and punches from the baby and I no longer fit into my pants. You probably cannot tell, but I am holding these pants together with a rubber band. This is definitely the last time in a long time that I will be able to wear them. Of course I got rid of most of my pregnancy clothes after Ben and I don't want to waste money buying new stuff for wearing around the house. So until I break down, I have two pairs of maternity pants and lots of sweats that will be stretched to their limit.
     I'm now16 weeks and waiting for the progesterone injections to be delivered to my doctor. Tomorrow I go for my first growth ultrasound and cervical length check. Finger crossed for good growth and a closed cervix- is that too much information?
   

Day 69

     Today is #WorldTeachersDay and this is my view.

     How am I going to make it through potentially 25 more weeks of this? I am really starting to struggle with this situation, particularly today. I am an educator in every sense of the word, yet here I am home alone and staring at the ceiling. I'm frustrated, I'm uncomfortable, I'm bored and I'm becoming depressed.
     What impact am I having on the world from my bed? It seems so silly that last April I felt I was burning out of teaching and here I am a few months later lamenting that I am not in the classroom. Teaching is so much a part of my identity that I sometimes wonder who I really am when I am not in front of students.
     Then there is the whole realization that I am not going to be returning to work for some time and I wonder if I will be relevant. Will I matter? Did I matter? Life goes on whether or not I am in those classrooms and I am replaceable. I'm not trying to be dramatic, just honest.
     I know there are those of you out there who may remember me declaring that I would not get pregnant again because this scenario was likely. It's true- I went into this pregnancy with my eyes wide open to the possibility of bed rest and complications. I also know this is temporary.

     No matter how mentally prepared we are for difficult situations, nothing compares to actually living through them.

Day 68

     Today is the first day in weeks that I did not wake up feeling hungover. The morning sickness may be passing, but that doesn't mean everything is perfect!

I am cautiously optimistic that this might be the dawn of a new phase. 

     The bags under my eyes probably tell you that last night was rough one. For a variety of reasons I had a terrible time falling asleep and once I had started to doze off, Lucas came into our room. He had a bad dream and refused to tell me what it was about. This is the first time he's ever verbalized having a bad dream and my heart broke! I took him back to bed and laid down with him. All I wanted was to hold him and take away his pain. Whatever it was, he felt so terrible and I couldn't fix it.
   
     We talked about things that made him happy- his family, playing with Legos, daddy making breakfast. His sweet innocence kills me. I wanted to stop time and capture this moment forever, because I know these days will pass quicker than I'd like them to.

     I've been dealing with this pregnancy and the difficulty of parenting two young children by saying "this is a phase, it will pass". I have been so focused on getting through this that I am missing the everyday beauty with my family.
     This is a phase, and it will pass, and I need to be present. I should experience the lows as well as the highs and appreciate all that my family is at this moment in time, not just what it will be in the future.

Day 67

     We knew going into this pregnancy that chances were fairly high that I would be on bed rest because of the preterm labor and birth of Ben. Wishful thinking on my part that it wouldn't happen so soon.

A rare gentle and cozy moment with both of my boys. 

     I had high hopes for myself. This time would be different. I would exercise throughout the pregnancy, work until December and I'd be present in the boys' daily activities. I'm not sure if the car accident was the catalyst or if this was coming all along, but I'm disappointed. No matter how mentally you are prepared for difficult situation, the reality sucks.

    At my appointment on Monday my doctor and I made plans. I will be off my feet as much as possible to help with the cramping and pain- complete bed rest if needed. Beginning at week 16 I will receive weekly progesterone shots, most likely until week 37. I also have an MFM consult set up as well as frequent ultrasounds. I want to emphasize that the baby is doing great, it's just that my body (specifically my uterus) isn't totally cooperating.

     While the seriousness of the situation is starting to sink in, I know we are being proactive and not reactive, which is great. Going into the second trimester with a plan for preventing preterm labor is a lot better than dealing with it as it happens, which should keep both the baby and me healthy and safe. I'm frustrated about work, as I do love the kids and the people I work with. However, I know we are doing the right thing. And my rest during the day will definitely allow me to be a better mom and wife in the evening to Ben, Lucas and Jim.

     So, these next few months will give me lots of time for writing, reading, and finding the beauty in even difficult moments such as these.