After charting my temperatures and watching for ovulation, I was certain of my date of conception as well as a longer cycle length. The doctor's office didn't want that information; they just wanted the date of my last period. Why would they need that when I was certain of my ovulation and conception date? This set me back several weeks and at the end of my pregnancy, when imminent signs of labour were nowhere to be seen, I was hurried into a caesarean section at the urging of several doctors. First my amniotic fluid looked low, secondly, at 8 days past due, I was risking giving birth to a stillborn baby. Third was the kicker; internal exams by various medical professionals confirmed that my pelvis was too narrow to allow a baby to pass. After being told that the baby had engaged at my last doctor's appointment, I was now being told that the baby hadn't, in fact, engaged and it was because the head was too big for my pelvis. Without being given a chance to think it over or really allow it to even sink in, my surgery was booked for the following morning at 8am.
I went home and cried my eyes out. How could this happen to me? Between my two sisters and my mom, they had 10 uneventful, vaginal births, why shouldn't I expect to do the same? I thought I had educated myself during my pregnancy, but in hindsight, I see now that I didn't read the right things. The What to Expect series should really just be called "Pregnancy for Dummies". It's a 'lite' helping of information, not really getting down to the nitty gritty of it all.
8am came the following morning and it saw me checking in at the hospital and waiting for the moment to arrive. I was terrified of the surgery and not the least excited to be meeting my new baby, which is what it should have all been about. I kept thinking to myself, "I'm not going to be pregnant forever! Why the rush to section?" but the doctor's warnings of stillbirth had scared me into not waiting any longer.
I was wheeled into the O.R. The smell and chill in the room made me shake uncontrollably. I had fasted since the night before, and my mouth was dry. I sat on the edge of the operating table for the spinal. I lay down and they washed my huge, round belly in iodine. They put up a curtain just past my neck so I couldn't see down my body. It was claustrophobic. My head was rested on a brown, rubber ring that made me think of the electric chair, for some reason. A nurse scraped something along my upper chest or arm, I can't remember, to determine if the spinal had taken effect the right distance up my body. It had. I didn't feel anything down there. There were a dozen people in the room and I felt exposed and vulnerable. I wondered if they all really needed to be there. The doctors came in and began, talking amongst themselves...just another day at the office. My husband stood at the foot of the bed and watched the doctor cut into me. He knew what was coming, but didn't expect it to be so graphic. He quickly came up to the head of the table to see if I could feel any of it. They tugged and pulled and found the incision not big enough for the doctor's hand and baby to come out together, so they made the incision wider. This allowed them to pull baby out and the doctor said, triumphantly, like he had anything to do with it, "It's a boy!" He mentioned several times that I was certainly not built to deliver a baby vaginally, but that I could go on to have 10 more caesareans. I didn't appreciate his sense of timing.
I didn't see my son until he was well covered up from head to toe. They brought him up to my face and a nurse offered to snap a photo of the three of us. My husband left with the baby while they stitched me up. Again, the doctor offered that I would only deliver vaginally if the baby came prematurely or if it was a girl.
I was wheeled into a recovery room not far from the O.R. and covered with an inflatable, heated, plastic blanket. I lay there for an hour looking at the ceiling, wondering what was happening with my husband and new baby. Finally, the nurses took me down to my room where I found my husband and a tiny baby crying his heart out for his mama. I took him to my breast where he instantly and effortlessly latched on and was silent and content, drawing long mouthfuls of I don't know what! I was amazed that he knew what to do and that I had anything there to provide for him!
We have since had another baby, a brother for our first son, delivered easily and vaginally at home with a midwife and tipping the scales at a whopping 9lb 2oz.
I went home and cried my eyes out. How could this happen to me? Between my two sisters and my mom, they had 10 uneventful, vaginal births, why shouldn't I expect to do the same? I thought I had educated myself during my pregnancy, but in hindsight, I see now that I didn't read the right things. The What to Expect series should really just be called "Pregnancy for Dummies". It's a 'lite' helping of information, not really getting down to the nitty gritty of it all.
8am came the following morning and it saw me checking in at the hospital and waiting for the moment to arrive. I was terrified of the surgery and not the least excited to be meeting my new baby, which is what it should have all been about. I kept thinking to myself, "I'm not going to be pregnant forever! Why the rush to section?" but the doctor's warnings of stillbirth had scared me into not waiting any longer.
I was wheeled into the O.R. The smell and chill in the room made me shake uncontrollably. I had fasted since the night before, and my mouth was dry. I sat on the edge of the operating table for the spinal. I lay down and they washed my huge, round belly in iodine. They put up a curtain just past my neck so I couldn't see down my body. It was claustrophobic. My head was rested on a brown, rubber ring that made me think of the electric chair, for some reason. A nurse scraped something along my upper chest or arm, I can't remember, to determine if the spinal had taken effect the right distance up my body. It had. I didn't feel anything down there. There were a dozen people in the room and I felt exposed and vulnerable. I wondered if they all really needed to be there. The doctors came in and began, talking amongst themselves...just another day at the office. My husband stood at the foot of the bed and watched the doctor cut into me. He knew what was coming, but didn't expect it to be so graphic. He quickly came up to the head of the table to see if I could feel any of it. They tugged and pulled and found the incision not big enough for the doctor's hand and baby to come out together, so they made the incision wider. This allowed them to pull baby out and the doctor said, triumphantly, like he had anything to do with it, "It's a boy!" He mentioned several times that I was certainly not built to deliver a baby vaginally, but that I could go on to have 10 more caesareans. I didn't appreciate his sense of timing.
I didn't see my son until he was well covered up from head to toe. They brought him up to my face and a nurse offered to snap a photo of the three of us. My husband left with the baby while they stitched me up. Again, the doctor offered that I would only deliver vaginally if the baby came prematurely or if it was a girl.
I was wheeled into a recovery room not far from the O.R. and covered with an inflatable, heated, plastic blanket. I lay there for an hour looking at the ceiling, wondering what was happening with my husband and new baby. Finally, the nurses took me down to my room where I found my husband and a tiny baby crying his heart out for his mama. I took him to my breast where he instantly and effortlessly latched on and was silent and content, drawing long mouthfuls of I don't know what! I was amazed that he knew what to do and that I had anything there to provide for him!
We have since had another baby, a brother for our first son, delivered easily and vaginally at home with a midwife and tipping the scales at a whopping 9lb 2oz.
