With the countdown on to my scheduled c-section, I’ve been thinking, Googling, and crying WAY too much.
I think I’m finally at peace with the status of this pregnancy.
I think I’m finally through the darkness, and reaching for the light.
I’ve had moments of anger and resentment toward my innocent baby boy that have astounded me – as if it’s HIS fault I won’t get the perfect birth experience I’ve dreamed of. I’m ashamed to admit that, but it’s true, it’s honest, and that’s what this space is for. I’ve failed to enjoy anything this last week and have instead been consumed by self-pity. I’ve been a gross version of myself, a version I don’t like. Yet at the same time, I know it’s an important part of the process – this moving through the shit to get to the salvation.
As far as I know (after almost a dozen ultrasounds, including an additional level 2 day before yesterday, and copious amounts of blood work), other than being breech, Leif is perfectly healthy.
This pregnancy is perfectly healthy.
AND I’m perfectly healthy.
Things could come up. There might be issues. There might not. But so what?
As one lovely blogger reminded me, love will win if I let it. The magic will come if I reach for it. And as a friend said via text, it’s time to STOP, we’ve only a few days left as a family of 3. WOW.
This is really happening.
I’m about to have another CHILD.
And since I’m already prone to so much mom guilt, why am I torturing myself? The bad wolf has been so darn hungry lately, but it’s time to kennel him for awhile because the good wolf is skin and bones.
My gorgeous, stubborn, ridiculously intelligent toddler has certainly picked up on the energy of me and all of this change. There was a week of no naps and all of the over-tiredness whining that entails. There’s been some major clinging. Some kick filled tantrums.
But there’s been a lot of talk about babies and the hospital, coupled with swaddling of creatures big and small (the dog is NOT a fan) too. And the most hilarious, but kind of sad, thing of all: my little girl, who’s been sleeping in a big girl bed on the floor since 14 months, is now taking naps in her crib! She insists!
I worry so much about leaving her for 3 to 5 days during recovery. As much as she adores her Dada and grandma, I still handle bedtime all of the nights. I’m still the one who brings her the lost pacifier at 4 AM. Who she comes to, arms stretched out for snuggles and early morning kisses. It breaks my heart to think about how she’ll cry out for me when I’m not here. But I have faith in her Daddy, for whom she squeals with joy when he walks in the door after a long day.
I’m hoping she’ll surprise us.
That she’ll be stronger than we think.
We’ve been talking about the baby, hospital and my absence for weeks. Every time the doorbell rings she thinks it’s grandma coming to take care of her. Grandma brings presents and treats and lots of silliness.
And finally, I put a call into a specialist, Dr. Wu, who delivers breech babies vaginally. I want to make sure I’ve explored every option. Apparently, I’m an excellent candidate and baby L is too.
I doubt I’ll go that route, but it’s nice to know that there ARE options just in case.