42.6

Tomorrow I throw in the towel. I have an appointment with my midwife at the hospital. We'll do a non-stress test and she'll examine me. If my body is still unfavourable (That is my cervix is clamped shut like Fort Knox) then we'll ask for a C section. I'm so over this.

We chose tomorrow instead of Tuesday, when I would be officially 43 weeks along, because the OB on tomorrow is someone my midwife feels better about. Good enough for me. I'll take a recommendation like that. It's super unusual for a woman with a midwife to come in and ask for a surgical birth, but then most women don't go to 43 weeks.

I hate being an anomaly. I just wanted to go into labour and push the baby out and recover like a normal person. Now after a lengthy gestation that has sucked the life out of me and freaked out the hospital staff every time I go in for a test, I have to face a surgery.

And I'll have to explain why I don't want to be induced. I see no point to attempting that without being dilated at all. It's like trying to force open a closed door. It'll likely stall or fail after putting me and baby through a lot of pain and possibly distress and has a good chance in resulting in an emergency cesarian. I don't want to endure that. I have no more stamina left. Get this kid out.

I feel the kicking and movement, I've seen the tests showing a thriving fetus that's growing larger and larger, with a normal heart rate and enough fluid. But I can't sustain this. No more. I can't make myself spontaneously go into labour. This is out of my control. I've gained somewhere between 35 to 40 pounds. Carrying it around is killing me.

I went swimming days ago and the weightlessness was indescribable. Getting out of the pool actually hurt when I had to resume lugging my ass around again.

I really wanted a natural birth. There are risks for inductions, there are risks for C sections and there are risks for going over 43 weeks in pregnancy. At this point, there are no ideal options. I accept this. I am resigned.

And I have to remember my mother, who birthed me surgically after a failed induction and went on to be the sort of woman and mother I would want to be. What I wouldn't give for her to talk me through this. She would understand. She would empathize. I have to remind myself how my child enters this world is a temporary experience. I'll have a whole childhood to look forward to. I am weighed down by disappointment. I think the only cure now is seeing my baby. Who now looks like it'll have an April Fools birthday. Go figure.

Letter

The following is an e-mail from the past, composed 3 months and 29 days ago, on November 30, 2012. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org

Dear FutureMe,

You're a mom! Or at least, hopefully you are. I've got my fingers crossed that you've given birth by now. If not, well, chin up. Easy for me to say, though, isn't it? I'm not 9 months pregnant.

This letter is only being sent about four months into the future, but really, motherhood is supposed to be transformative. Are you still you? Does life seem better?

I have so many questions. How was birth? Girl or boy? What's breastfeeding like? How have the cats been reacting? Is ***Dude*** excited? That last one I don't think I really need to ask. I'm pretty sure he'll be overjoyed.

I'm enjoying my last months of independence. I hope you're enjoying the co-dependence of loving your baby. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think we were meant for this life.

Make sure you get out and meet other mothers in the next couple months. I think that'll be important.

Good luck!

Sometimes even you have the power to taunt yourself. No baby yet.

42

Still. Pregnant.

I hit 42 weeks yesterday. I have little humour left to share about it. Calls and texts and emails abound from people who love us and I no longer want any of them. 

Yes, I've heard of that method of induction. I don't care what suggestion you have. I've heard of it, and I've either tried it and it didn't work or I think it's silly and have disregarded it as an option. Last night I attempted acupuncture. Seeing as I'm still in this state, I'm guessing it didn't work.

I've also tried sex (which hurts, for the record. I'm too big and nothing feels good), spicy food, herbs and supplements, walking, meditation--

Just got a phone call from someone I talked to a month ago about RESPs. 

"Still pregnant."
"Oh, awesome!"
"Not really."
"..."

I can't escape this.

I went in for an ultrasound and the technician could have been kinder. I laid there on my back, aching from the pressure and strain and tried to support my lower back with one hand, my head with the other (So my acid reflux wouldn't act up and make me vomit) and I coughed. "Could you cover your mouth?" Yeah. I know it's bad to not cover a cough, but my body was screaming at me to deal with the increasing discomfort, burgeoning on pain. She never tried to help me up and seemed mildly confused about my inability to move with ease.

And then I got sent up for a non-stress test again. Apparently a low heart rate. But when I got there and was tested, the heart rate wasn't low. Low end of normal, yes, but not low. And then I ate a cookie and there was all sorts of activity. 

My midwife came and was reassuring. She had to talk to an OB about me, as I'd hit 42 weeks and there are laws governing these things. 

The OB came in and more or less told me I was risking baby's life by not inducing today. She applied tons of pressure and eventually I couldn't look at her. I knew in my gut she was wrong. Baby was kicking, with a strong heartbeat and I felt fine. Totally over being pregnant, yes, but healthful. But there  she was, reaffirming all the reasons I avoided obstetric care in the first place.

She suggested I do various invasive hospital induction techniques that I knew I couldn't mentally handle. And by "mentally handle", I mean experience a fight or flight response wherein I will freak out and likely kick the doctor involuntarily. I don't care to go into why I'm like this, only that I am. This is not something I can suck up and handle. My primal self will fly off the rail. I tried to explain the impossibility of this and it fell on deaf ears.

My midwife talked to the doctor privately without me and when she came back let me know the doctor was not alarmed by my data, that everything looked good. It was just the fact I was 42 weeks along and everything wasn't exactly perfect. The numbers of certain things, things that were never recorded even a handful of years ago, were off by fractions. And for that this OB had me sobbing in the hospital room. I had to sign a waiver stating that she had informed me of my risks and that she was off the hook.

Now I'm home and feeling drained, discouraged and otherwise unhappy. Do I think baby will come when the time is right? Yes. Do I have faith in myself? Yes. Does it make this any easier to bear? No. No, it doesn't.

Still. Pregnant.

'Tis the first day of spring and the snow is a blowin', on and off, for days and days. And I'm still pregnant. On my father's side, the women tend to go overdue. One aunt was 18 days over, another was a couple weeks for both, and apparently my grandmother was 43 weeks for all of her children and she gave birth 10 times. Christ. Considering kidney stones run in that family as well and I've had those twice, I can't help but feel rather horrified by this prospect.

So, keeping that in mind, I decided to have a membrane sweep today. The Dude's vacation time is running out and I can't afford to not give birth soon. Three weeks of having him home is great and everything, but I need him here for the baby. If we could have waited for me to birth for him to start his time off, that would have been ideal, but we didn't have that choice. So now the pressure is on for the last week.

A membrane sweep is not enjoyable. Turns out I'm not dilated at all. Great looking cervix (If you must know) but not dilated. Doing a sweep, or attempting to sweep a non-dilated cervix can be painful. And it was. Another reason I don't like pregnancy. I really wish I could just let nature take its course. It would be a calmer, easier choice. My baby and my health are doing just fine. No need to panic. Life, however, is getting in the way.

Tonight I introduce castor oil into my life. I had it once before, when I had kidney stones the first time. Not sure why, but it was recommended and my mom made sure it happened. Foul stuff. But it's being put into a smoothie. Maybe that'll make it okay. It's supposed to help kickstart labour, which is a softer alternative to a medical induction with pitocin. Pitocin can necessitate an epidural, which can lead to an episiotomy and forceps, with an enhanced risk of a C-section. Scary.

Leaving the midwives today I had these Braxton hicks that literally stopped me in my tracks. Every minute, with no exaggeration, my uterus tightened up to the point I couldn't take any steps. It's hard to describe. It wasn't painful, but it threatened pain if I tried to move while my womb was flexing its muscle. It never used to be that hard. I guess the organ has really toned up over these many months. I was already walking like a wind-up tin duck and the intensity of the hicks was immobilizing. And yet it wasn't labour.

It's been nearly two weeks since we've seen our friends. The only time I get out now is to make some sort of appointment. My entire life is revolving around the end of this pregnancy. I literally could go into labour any time. It's a difficult thing to live with. Unless you actually live this reality, it truly is hard to understand. I'd heard about other women facing being overdue and I sympathized, but I realize now I didn't really appreciate the nature of it.

You can't think about the future anymore. Why? Because you have no idea what it'll look like. Zip. Nada. You can't envision it at all. You live entirely in the moment and the moment is uncomfortable and wrapped in nervousness and anticipation. You are entrenched in your body's doings, cataloguing the changes and obsessing over what it all means. You are deluged with advice of how to induce labour, making you feel like every passing day it doesn't happen it's somehow your fault. Everyone is calling, texting, and emailing you wanting updates, even though there aren't any. The only update that anyone needs or wants is: was the baby born? And of course the answer is no. Still nothing. Just like yesterday.

In case I haven't made it painfully obvious, this is ass.

Here's a picture the Dude took at 39 weeks.
This version of me has hopes and dreams of a 40-week pregnancy.
Oh, how wrong she was.