Sunday, March 31, 2013


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.


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