Like a Natural Woman
38 week doctor's appointment. Dr. came in and, after a brief hello, said, "So. Do you want to have this baby next week?"
I gave a little laugh. Haha, that'd be nice.
But it turned out he was very serious. He said we could induce, put it on the calendar. Having a baby at 39 weeks is "a great time to deliver." She's not going to develop any more, and she's already ready. If I'm tired of being pregnant, which most women he's encountered are by this time, we can just do it.
Some people think there's an increased risk of C-section with induction, but he doesn't. Sometimes you need one, sometimes you don't.
Plus then I could guarantee that he'd do my delivery.
Also, even though I was at 38 weeks, "nothing was going on." She hadn't dropped, and I hadn't dilated at all. In most pregnancies, especially most first ones, those things have happened already.
I was really pretty caught off guard by this proposal. I hadn't heard of anyone getting induced before they were due. Plenty of people have it done at week 41 or 42, but 39? I don't know. Something about it just felt wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on why.
In typical me fashion, I did a lot of thinking about this throughout the day.
I think the number one thing about it that was bothering me was this would make me a science project yet again. Just once, I want to have a natural experience with this pregnancy. I didn't get a smiley face when I peed on a stick. I didn't even get to have fun making this baby. Everything was a fight. I just want to be normal. I want to have an experience that the majority of women have. I don't want to be another statistic.
I get that this is mildly absurd. I've had a lot of weeks of normal and natural. Not to mention, the majority of women I know have had to be induced. I get that there's nothing unusual about it, nothing wrong with it. I'd just rather go into labor on my own.
Jon and I talked about it a little, though his attitude about everything with this pregnancy has been - it's your body, you get to make the decisions. He did think it would be nice to have an extra week with our baby. Of course, his paternity leave wouldn't start for another week, so he'd have to take some extra time off.
We also did a tiny bit of research. An article from Scientific American spoke of the benefits of inducing at 39 weeks. It's now being thought it would keep blood pressure low and reduce risk of C-section. So maybe there was something to it? Was I being selfish for thinking I want to be normal? Would this actually be healthier for the baby?
Then I looked at a calendar. My doctor does inductions on Wednesdays, which would have made her birthday September 11. That was pretty much the nail in the coffin. I didn't want to curse her with that if it could be avoided. Some people said it would give us something to be happy about on that day.
But did you SEE social media? I mean, it started on Tuesday night. The morbid posts. The god-awful memories. I could just see her telling anyone who asked when her birthday was and getting a look of pity. She doesn't need that.
This meant I knew going into my 39 week appointment I'd be asked about induction again. Jon and I kind of talked about it, but we didn't make any definite decisions. I didn't make any definite decisions. I had some people talk to me throughout this week about feminine intuition and how it really is worth something, but I didn't know what I was feeling.
My mood was okay when I went into the office. But then there was this woman there with a very tiny baby, and, I don't know, that still makes me feel awkward and angry a lot of the time. Resentful. Here I am, days away from having my own baby, and it's still painful to see other people with theirs. Why? What's that about?
This woman was standing by the receptionist's window trying to make an appointment. I needed to get there to sign into the office. Then the receptionist struck up a conversation with baby lady. How old is the baby (2 months), oh, isn't that wonderful, my niece just had twins, and how big was that baby when she was born? Here's how big the twins were, and I got to hold them, and they were so tiny!
Meanwhie, I was still standing there, feeling large, just wanting to sign in. Could they have scooched over to let me sign in? Sure they could, but that didn't seem to occur to them. Certainly not more than making the nine months pregnant lady stand there.
I was really missing the fertility clinic and their policy to not have children in the waiting room due to sensitivity. Of course that's totally unreasonable because a) get over yourself already, me, and b) babies have to see the doctor, too. But I was getting pretty down.
When I finally did sign in, the receptionist asked me my name as I wrote it on the clipboard. "Oh, I thought you were already here," she said. "I already put that in. Hmm. I wonder why. I guess I just saw your name on the schedule. Well, I'll let them know you're really here now."
Sigh.
When the nurse came to get me, I wasn't smiling, which I guess is unusual. "You look ready," she said. She usually tells me how great I look and how I never complain. What a lovely change this remark was.
Weight, pee in a cup, blood pressure. In the intervening few minutes I had before the doctor came in, I almost burst into tears. I don't know why I was so upset, but everything just suddenly felt like a lot.
Of course, as soon as the doctor came in, the first thing he asked me about was inducing. After he told pointed to the other young guy in the corner and said he had an intern with him today, if I didn't mind.
Sure. The more the merrier.
I started by warning him about how emotional I was feeling and that I was very much on the verge of tears. I told him I still wasn't sure about inducing. That a big reason I hadn't done it the week before was I wanted some part of this pregnancy to be natural.
"Huh," he said thoughtfully. "I've never had anyone put it to me that way before."
I guess I'm more articulate than the average bear.
So he said he wouldn't push me. He didn't want to make me cry. But after the fun internal exam, I was told nothing had changed - still no drop or dilation. Waiting another week... "She's not going to get any smaller," he said. There was some other turn of phrase he used that led me to believe he thought I might have less risk of C-section if I induced at 40 weeks. He didn't come out and say that, but I'm small, and if the baby is big...
But that said, I've heard of plenty of small women delivering vaginally despite having large babies. And I read that after 39 weeks, babies don't do much more growing. I would think the doctor would know that. Maybe it's another one of those "facts" that no one actually knows.
I told him I'd think about it again. He said not a problem, let him know, but if nothing's happened by my next appointment (which is this Friday), he's scheduling me for the 25. No choice.
That's fine. I can live with that.
But as soon as he left, I really had to hold back the tears. I just felt overwhelmed. It was just so much. On the one hand, my discomfort level wasn't lessening. Even swollen feet are becoming a norm. (Doc said it's nothing to worry about as my blood pressure is fine and swelling goes away when I sleep.) And the sooner we induce, the sooner we can have our girl. The more time Jon will get to spend with her of his leave, more limited than mine. But on the other hand, I still wanted something to happen on its own. I wanted to give her a fair shot. And then maybe Jon and I could enjoy one more week of being just the two of us. Maybe we should do that cliche thing and "make the best of that." (One of those stupid things everyone tells you to do while you're waiting for your baby to be born.)
Back at the receptionist's desk, I told her I was to come back in a week. In another beautiful moment I can't make up, the receptionist danced around the issue that there were no available appointments for the following Thursday, which would be exactly a week. I told her I'm clearly not in work, so she could make it for whenever, but she wasn't sure what to do. Seriously. She had to go ask someone else what to do, and they tod her to make the appointment for Friday. Wow! What a revelation!
Once I got out to my car, I sat there crying for awhile. I posted about my emotions in a Pregnancy after Infertility group on Facebook just to sort of see what people said. Throughout the day, a lot of people weighed in with their stories; no one was giving advice so much as sharing their experiences, and they were so varied. Some thought doctors try to force inductions on women for their own convenience; others have read about the possible benefits of inducing at 39 weeks. A lot said their practices would only allow inducing after 41, so they thought the 39 week mark was super early. A lot of women had been induced themselves. Some said it was the greatest experience; it took a lot of anxiety out of the equation, and they were absolutely planning on doing it for their second pregnancy. Some had it done for their first, it went amazingly; they had it for their second, and it was terrible. Some only had bad experiences. One woman had an induction that went on for hours and never worked. However, so much was done to her that her baby went in to distress three days later and she had to have a C-section anyway.
So nothing conclusive. Yet again, everyone's experiences are different. At least, I guess, there was no overwhelming feeling one way or the other. One woman almost had me convinced to go for it, saying, "You should do what your doctor recommends." I thought that was a great point - until I realized my doctor wasn't recommending anything, merely offering options.
I spent a lot of the day worrying about what to do. Jon didn't want to make any decisions for me, still citing it's my body and my decision. In the end, the easiest decision to make was none. It felt a little like a cop out, but I think it was really what I wanted.
The unfortunate part of that is now we're stuck in this waiting game holding pattern. Every time I feel a strange movement, I wonder if I'm in labor. Every time I go to the bathroom, I check for any signs of prelabor.
On Friday, we spent an hour in the car. When we got out, I felt heavy, like I had gained 20 pounds in that time. Jon noted that suddenly, baby looked like she was riding a lot lower. A lot of people we saw that night said the same. Since then, I have felt so much pressure, like extra gravity weighing down on me. Walking and sitting is harder than ever. But there aren't any other signs that anything is happening.
One good note is I had tickets to a concert on Sunday, and I really worried if I'd make it. I didn't think there was any way I would two days before my due date. But I did; we had Jon and another husband there with a car on standby just in case I went into labor. But I didn't.
I mean, it was nice of my girl to be cooperative and go to the show. But now if she'd like to continue to be cooperative and show up of her own accord, that'd be great.
Jon's off on paternity leave now. We've spent the last two days together. Eating spicy food and going for walks. None of that has worked so far. Today's my due date, and baby girl is still chilling. I know it's normal, and I know it happens. And I know, despite all my hopes and resistance, there's a really good chance I'll end up getting induced anyway.
What's up with that? Why do so many people I know end up needing this? What are we doing to ourselves that we need to have extra hormones pumped into us to get these babies out? Does it really help them/us, or is this just another medical procedure to have insurance pay for?
And, btw, can everyone stop saying, "She'll come out when she's ready"? Especially those of you who were induced. You're prime proof that that's not how it works anymore.
On another note, I'm starting to get more nervous about the actual process of giving birth. As Jon put it, at least I haven't been nervous until now. I really haven't somehow. But the emotions are starting to just get whacky. I'm sad, I'm nervous, I'm exciited, I'm tired, I don't want to sleep, I'm frustrated when I can't sleep, I hurt, everything is hard.
Someone call a wambulance. Waaaahhhh.
I gave a little laugh. Haha, that'd be nice.
But it turned out he was very serious. He said we could induce, put it on the calendar. Having a baby at 39 weeks is "a great time to deliver." She's not going to develop any more, and she's already ready. If I'm tired of being pregnant, which most women he's encountered are by this time, we can just do it.
Some people think there's an increased risk of C-section with induction, but he doesn't. Sometimes you need one, sometimes you don't.
Plus then I could guarantee that he'd do my delivery.
Also, even though I was at 38 weeks, "nothing was going on." She hadn't dropped, and I hadn't dilated at all. In most pregnancies, especially most first ones, those things have happened already.
I was really pretty caught off guard by this proposal. I hadn't heard of anyone getting induced before they were due. Plenty of people have it done at week 41 or 42, but 39? I don't know. Something about it just felt wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on why.
In typical me fashion, I did a lot of thinking about this throughout the day.
I think the number one thing about it that was bothering me was this would make me a science project yet again. Just once, I want to have a natural experience with this pregnancy. I didn't get a smiley face when I peed on a stick. I didn't even get to have fun making this baby. Everything was a fight. I just want to be normal. I want to have an experience that the majority of women have. I don't want to be another statistic.
I get that this is mildly absurd. I've had a lot of weeks of normal and natural. Not to mention, the majority of women I know have had to be induced. I get that there's nothing unusual about it, nothing wrong with it. I'd just rather go into labor on my own.
Jon and I talked about it a little, though his attitude about everything with this pregnancy has been - it's your body, you get to make the decisions. He did think it would be nice to have an extra week with our baby. Of course, his paternity leave wouldn't start for another week, so he'd have to take some extra time off.
We also did a tiny bit of research. An article from Scientific American spoke of the benefits of inducing at 39 weeks. It's now being thought it would keep blood pressure low and reduce risk of C-section. So maybe there was something to it? Was I being selfish for thinking I want to be normal? Would this actually be healthier for the baby?
Then I looked at a calendar. My doctor does inductions on Wednesdays, which would have made her birthday September 11. That was pretty much the nail in the coffin. I didn't want to curse her with that if it could be avoided. Some people said it would give us something to be happy about on that day.
But did you SEE social media? I mean, it started on Tuesday night. The morbid posts. The god-awful memories. I could just see her telling anyone who asked when her birthday was and getting a look of pity. She doesn't need that.
This meant I knew going into my 39 week appointment I'd be asked about induction again. Jon and I kind of talked about it, but we didn't make any definite decisions. I didn't make any definite decisions. I had some people talk to me throughout this week about feminine intuition and how it really is worth something, but I didn't know what I was feeling.
My mood was okay when I went into the office. But then there was this woman there with a very tiny baby, and, I don't know, that still makes me feel awkward and angry a lot of the time. Resentful. Here I am, days away from having my own baby, and it's still painful to see other people with theirs. Why? What's that about?
This woman was standing by the receptionist's window trying to make an appointment. I needed to get there to sign into the office. Then the receptionist struck up a conversation with baby lady. How old is the baby (2 months), oh, isn't that wonderful, my niece just had twins, and how big was that baby when she was born? Here's how big the twins were, and I got to hold them, and they were so tiny!
Meanwhie, I was still standing there, feeling large, just wanting to sign in. Could they have scooched over to let me sign in? Sure they could, but that didn't seem to occur to them. Certainly not more than making the nine months pregnant lady stand there.
I was really missing the fertility clinic and their policy to not have children in the waiting room due to sensitivity. Of course that's totally unreasonable because a) get over yourself already, me, and b) babies have to see the doctor, too. But I was getting pretty down.
When I finally did sign in, the receptionist asked me my name as I wrote it on the clipboard. "Oh, I thought you were already here," she said. "I already put that in. Hmm. I wonder why. I guess I just saw your name on the schedule. Well, I'll let them know you're really here now."
Sigh.
When the nurse came to get me, I wasn't smiling, which I guess is unusual. "You look ready," she said. She usually tells me how great I look and how I never complain. What a lovely change this remark was.
Weight, pee in a cup, blood pressure. In the intervening few minutes I had before the doctor came in, I almost burst into tears. I don't know why I was so upset, but everything just suddenly felt like a lot.
Of course, as soon as the doctor came in, the first thing he asked me about was inducing. After he told pointed to the other young guy in the corner and said he had an intern with him today, if I didn't mind.
Sure. The more the merrier.
I started by warning him about how emotional I was feeling and that I was very much on the verge of tears. I told him I still wasn't sure about inducing. That a big reason I hadn't done it the week before was I wanted some part of this pregnancy to be natural.
"Huh," he said thoughtfully. "I've never had anyone put it to me that way before."
I guess I'm more articulate than the average bear.
So he said he wouldn't push me. He didn't want to make me cry. But after the fun internal exam, I was told nothing had changed - still no drop or dilation. Waiting another week... "She's not going to get any smaller," he said. There was some other turn of phrase he used that led me to believe he thought I might have less risk of C-section if I induced at 40 weeks. He didn't come out and say that, but I'm small, and if the baby is big...
But that said, I've heard of plenty of small women delivering vaginally despite having large babies. And I read that after 39 weeks, babies don't do much more growing. I would think the doctor would know that. Maybe it's another one of those "facts" that no one actually knows.
I told him I'd think about it again. He said not a problem, let him know, but if nothing's happened by my next appointment (which is this Friday), he's scheduling me for the 25. No choice.
That's fine. I can live with that.
But as soon as he left, I really had to hold back the tears. I just felt overwhelmed. It was just so much. On the one hand, my discomfort level wasn't lessening. Even swollen feet are becoming a norm. (Doc said it's nothing to worry about as my blood pressure is fine and swelling goes away when I sleep.) And the sooner we induce, the sooner we can have our girl. The more time Jon will get to spend with her of his leave, more limited than mine. But on the other hand, I still wanted something to happen on its own. I wanted to give her a fair shot. And then maybe Jon and I could enjoy one more week of being just the two of us. Maybe we should do that cliche thing and "make the best of that." (One of those stupid things everyone tells you to do while you're waiting for your baby to be born.)
Back at the receptionist's desk, I told her I was to come back in a week. In another beautiful moment I can't make up, the receptionist danced around the issue that there were no available appointments for the following Thursday, which would be exactly a week. I told her I'm clearly not in work, so she could make it for whenever, but she wasn't sure what to do. Seriously. She had to go ask someone else what to do, and they tod her to make the appointment for Friday. Wow! What a revelation!
Once I got out to my car, I sat there crying for awhile. I posted about my emotions in a Pregnancy after Infertility group on Facebook just to sort of see what people said. Throughout the day, a lot of people weighed in with their stories; no one was giving advice so much as sharing their experiences, and they were so varied. Some thought doctors try to force inductions on women for their own convenience; others have read about the possible benefits of inducing at 39 weeks. A lot said their practices would only allow inducing after 41, so they thought the 39 week mark was super early. A lot of women had been induced themselves. Some said it was the greatest experience; it took a lot of anxiety out of the equation, and they were absolutely planning on doing it for their second pregnancy. Some had it done for their first, it went amazingly; they had it for their second, and it was terrible. Some only had bad experiences. One woman had an induction that went on for hours and never worked. However, so much was done to her that her baby went in to distress three days later and she had to have a C-section anyway.
So nothing conclusive. Yet again, everyone's experiences are different. At least, I guess, there was no overwhelming feeling one way or the other. One woman almost had me convinced to go for it, saying, "You should do what your doctor recommends." I thought that was a great point - until I realized my doctor wasn't recommending anything, merely offering options.
I spent a lot of the day worrying about what to do. Jon didn't want to make any decisions for me, still citing it's my body and my decision. In the end, the easiest decision to make was none. It felt a little like a cop out, but I think it was really what I wanted.
The unfortunate part of that is now we're stuck in this waiting game holding pattern. Every time I feel a strange movement, I wonder if I'm in labor. Every time I go to the bathroom, I check for any signs of prelabor.
On Friday, we spent an hour in the car. When we got out, I felt heavy, like I had gained 20 pounds in that time. Jon noted that suddenly, baby looked like she was riding a lot lower. A lot of people we saw that night said the same. Since then, I have felt so much pressure, like extra gravity weighing down on me. Walking and sitting is harder than ever. But there aren't any other signs that anything is happening.
One good note is I had tickets to a concert on Sunday, and I really worried if I'd make it. I didn't think there was any way I would two days before my due date. But I did; we had Jon and another husband there with a car on standby just in case I went into labor. But I didn't.
I mean, it was nice of my girl to be cooperative and go to the show. But now if she'd like to continue to be cooperative and show up of her own accord, that'd be great.
Jon's off on paternity leave now. We've spent the last two days together. Eating spicy food and going for walks. None of that has worked so far. Today's my due date, and baby girl is still chilling. I know it's normal, and I know it happens. And I know, despite all my hopes and resistance, there's a really good chance I'll end up getting induced anyway.
What's up with that? Why do so many people I know end up needing this? What are we doing to ourselves that we need to have extra hormones pumped into us to get these babies out? Does it really help them/us, or is this just another medical procedure to have insurance pay for?
And, btw, can everyone stop saying, "She'll come out when she's ready"? Especially those of you who were induced. You're prime proof that that's not how it works anymore.
On another note, I'm starting to get more nervous about the actual process of giving birth. As Jon put it, at least I haven't been nervous until now. I really haven't somehow. But the emotions are starting to just get whacky. I'm sad, I'm nervous, I'm exciited, I'm tired, I don't want to sleep, I'm frustrated when I can't sleep, I hurt, everything is hard.
Someone call a wambulance. Waaaahhhh.
Comments
Post a Comment