Please meet August Robert Thompson. Aka Gus.  He was born May 9, 2013 at 9:11 am:  12 pounds 8 ounces and 23.5 inches.

No.  That is not a typo.

I would like to officially thank Gus, God, my midwife and my doctor for the c-section I so desperately tried to avoid.  I am so glad that I did not have the VBAC I wanted so bad.

We are both healthy, happy, and whole.  He is absolutely wonderful.  And he is sort of a superstar on the L&D unit.

Up again tonight at 2:30.  This time trying to cope with feeling of disappointment of another unwanted c-section.  I have a little more than 24 hours to go into spontaneous labor, but after that point, it doesn’t look like waiting for this little guy to appear on his own is the best choice — for his health or mine–  and so we have a c-section scheduled for Thursday morning.  I wanted to go to 42 weeks when the baby would be technically post-term, but even my hippy midwife after examining me and all the ultrasounds didn’t necessarily think it the best idea.  And so I am taking her advice.  I trust her a great deal.

I am feeling so disempowered at the moment.  I don’t know why my body won’t just do what it’s supposed to do.  This is my third and final birth.  And so far, in all three, my body has failed to “get it right.”  Sam was my most ideal birth and I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to have pushed him out.  But even so, there will still a lot of medical intervention involved with him. With Sam, my water broke and I never actually had any contractions.  So I was put on pitocin.  I had to have an epidural because I am allergic to general anesthetics and it had to be in place in case an emergency c-section was called for. I did push him out.  But I had my extremely rude doctor give me an unwanted episiotomy. And I still tore the worst that you can tear (level 4).  With Henry, it was found at 38 weeks that he was breech, and after 3 weeks of trying and failing  to get him to turn, I had a c-section.  Then I suffered a miscarriage but was unable to actually miscarry all the tissues and had to go in for a D&C.  And now I am 41 weeks, 2 days pregnant and have done my utmost to carry this baby in a healthy manner, to maintain my perspective about what is most important (a healthy baby, not my birth experience), and to encourage him to start spontaneous labor.

Yet here I am on the cusp of another unwanted c-section.  I can’t be induced.  Pitocin and other drugs used to induce labor are very hard on a woman’s uterus.  And taking them greatly increases my chance of having my last c-section scar rupture which is a chance I am unwilling to take.  It is hard to talk about because even though I feel the way I feel, I also recognize that these feelings can be extremely insulting to others who opted for c-sections,  who had to have c-sections for medical reasons (like me, I know) but who, unlike me,  did not have any issue dealing with that/did not feel disempowered by the experience, or  those who had very positive birth experiences with their c-sections (whether planned or unplanned).  Or my goodness, how about the people who suffer from infertility or have had a catastrophic event happen at their births and can’t believe that I would complain about not getting to have the birth experience I want when I get to have not one, not two, but THREE children.

And I get why my frustrations and disappointment could rub those people the wrong way.  I am sensitive to that.  And for the most part, I’ve kept much more quiet about my own feelings this time around than I did when I had the c-section with Henry.  But tonight, I’m feeling the sting and wishing that my body would just cooperate and do this supposedly natural thing that my body has failed to do 4 times now.

It doesn’t affect my feelings of joy, anticipation and giddiness over my childs’ impending birth.  I could not be more ecstatic to welcome this human being into our lives.  And I know that in the end, my birth experience will be a distant memory, perhaps a small tinge of sadness in a great pool of gratefulness and happiness (God willing!)

But Craig and I don’t plan to have more children, and so this is my last opportunity to experience the empowering feeling of laboring and bringing my child into the world without too much medical intervention.  And it’s an experience that I have always longed for. As each hour ticks by, that possibility becomes less likely.  And I’m just feeling pretty sad about it tonight.  I sort of wanted to write it out and let it go as much as possible so I can focus on the excitement that lies ahead and refocus my mind.

Every night when I go to bed, I feel that labor is imminent.  All the signs of it.  Every night.  And then I fall asleep and my body reboots and I am not in labor again.  And it’s physically and emotionally draining.

People are very keen to tell me all what they “did” to get their labors started.  While I have, in almost all the cases, attempted those things myself, I also find it very frustrating to get this advice.  Because it implies that if I just did this one little trick, my body would do it.  That the reason that I’m not in labor yet is because I simply haven’t tried hard enough or done the magical thing they happened to do right before they went into labor.  Examples of what has been suggested to me/what I have tried to encourage labor to begin of its own accord:

WALK THE BABY OUT.  I have walked 1 mile plus each day since 37 weeks.

ACUPUNCTURE: I have now received approximately 8 acupuncture treatments between 38 weeks and now to help induce labor naturally.  In some of them, he even shot electricity into the points.

ACUPRESSURE: Craig has been massaging different acupressure points on my feet every single night for over a month to help induce labor naturally.

BIRTH SQUATS/SITTING/LYING IN SOME POSITION THAT ENCOURAGES THE BABY TO DROP: Again, since 37 weeks, I have been aware of my positioning when sitting, sleeping, etc to try and give the baby room to move down and engage.

SEX/ORGASMS: Um.  Yes.  Tried it.  Keep trying it.  This is possibly one of the only upsides of the trying to induce naturally.  But it is clearly not working in the way I intended it.

GETTING A PEDICURE: Yes, I had one at 38 weeks.  But I cannot go get another at the moment because I have developed an absolutely disgusting and exceeding rare pregnancy rash all over my belly and legs ironically called by this stupid cutesy name — PUPPS.  And there is no way in hell that I could convince a pedicurist at this point that she was not risking life and limb by having contact with my skin — even though it is not remotely contagious.

CLEANING: Dude.  I am an obsessive cleaner anyway.  I have been nesting since about 2 weeks along.  But I’ve really sort of upped the ante in this last month and physically done some pretty impressive things in the name of cleanliness while hugely pregnant.

SPICY FOOD: Yep.  Eating it daily.  Nada.

PINEAPPLE: Yep, eating it daily.  Drinking pineapple juice.  Nada.

GETTING MY MEMBRANES STRIPPED: It’s a horrible name for a pretty basic move that your doctor or midwife can do if you are dilated.  I’ve been checked since 38 weeks to see if I’m dilated enough for this to be done. I finally was at 41 weeks, had it done and … nada.

HERBS (raspberry leaf tea, cohosh, evening primrose oil, castor oil, etc.), AND NIPPLE STIMULATION: These are things I have not tried and will not try on the advice of my midwife because they can be dangerous to someone who had a c-section already and put me at a greater risk for a uterine rupture should they send me into labor. So, obviously not a good choice for me.

MEDITATION/RELAXATION: I’m trying, but I’m not very good at it.  I envision things falling — waterfalls, leaves from trees, stones into water, etc.  I read comforting books in the most comfortable chairs.  I write. These are all helpful for my emotional state, certainly.  So, I won’t discount them.  But they don’t seem to be helping the baby feel relaxed enough to come out.

TALKING TO THE BABY: Yes.  I did this anyway.  But of course I talk to him and tell him that I’m ready whenever he is and tell him that I am so thrilled to be meeting him soon.

PRAYER: Oh boy do I do this. More than praying that he’ll come out in the way I want him to, I pray that God will send me peace and comfort, that He’ll keep my priorities in perspective, that I want Him to know that I accept whatever lies ahead, even if it’s not what I would have chosen for myself, that I am extremely grateful for the chance to be a parent to this child and to please keep the baby and I healthy and whole, that I am sorry that I am so fixated on my own birth experience and that I will try to relax about it and remember what is most important. And more.

I really don’t think there is anything else that I can do or not do to make this happen in the way I envisioned.  I feel pretty powerless about it and while that is a pretty bad feeling, I’m hoping by sort of talking through it and getting it all out in some organized way, I can look at this post and say, Ok Gen,  you really have done your best.  Now let go and move on and refocus yourself on the monumental task and gift that lies ahead — parenthood.

So, here’s to organizing the mind.  Now for some rest…

Dear Little One-

I took two Tylenol PM to try and help me sleep tonight, but I don’t think they work on me anymore.  I wouldn’t fall asleep right now if someone hit me over the head with a cast iron skillet.

I just want to let you know that your dad and I are very excited to meet you.  Before bed tonight we talked about all the things we are excited to learn about you.  I just cannot wait to study your face.  I intend to just drink you in when you finally arrive.  It feels like we’ve been waiting for you FOREVER!

You are later than I expected you to be.  I’m rounding 41 weeks now.  It doesn’t sound that overdue, since womens’ due dates are on their 40th week, but I feel an eternity has passed between your due date (April 29) and now.  And I feel no signs that you have any intention of coming anytime soon.  They say that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.  Nevertheless.

I am not a very patient person. I’m sorry to tell you that it’s not my nature, kiddo.  But I know that it needs to be in my nature in order for me to be a good parent to you.  And so I begrudgingly thank you for the opportunity to, straight out of the gate, work on being better for you — thank you for this first opportunity to be more worthy of the gift of your life.

It’s pretty great outside the womb, just so you know.  And I’ll do everything in my power to show you as much beauty and kindness and love that has been shown to me over the years.  More, even!  It’s going to be so goddamn good to have you be part of our family.  So even though it  feels like we simply can not wait to meet you, we will wait to meet you.  And the wait will be worth it.

Love,

Mom

Pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant pregnant.

I am super duper pregnant.

And how are YOU?

I am now officially 39 weeks pregnant.  In case you missed my hint that I was feeling really really pregnant.  This is the stage where I legitimately begin to fear that the baby might NEVER COME OUT.  It’s irrational, but it does not make it any less real.  In fact, this morning, while tying my shoes, I began to cry because I felt that he had actually moved up closer to my throat than down closer to my, well, vagina, to be quite blunt.  And I actually stopped, pushed gently on my stomach, and said “CHILD! YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY!!!”

And nothing happened.

There is a mom at Henry’s preschool who is also pregnant.  I believe she is like 6 months.  And every time I see her at pickup, she looks so uncomfortable and miserable and I feel for her.  So I always check in and ask how she is and give her space to just vent a bit.  Venting is so therapeutic. And today she sort of grimaced and said in a teary voice “Well, I’m pretty uncomfortable.”  And it was the only time I’ve ever wanted to just blow my gasket at her.  I wanted to be like “Look in my throat.  See that foot?  Tell me again that you are uncomfortable.”

Please don’t judge my judging her.  I know it was unfair.  I know that 6 months pregnant is also uncomfortable and that everyone’s pregnancy is different and all that.  But OMG, I needed to be Queen Bee in that moment.  And I just was NOT.

Other things that are currently going on in my life are as follows:

1) I’m pregnant.  Oh wait.  I already said that.

2) Both Sam and Craig came down with some horrible flu like illness that had them completely wiped out for the past several days.  Everyone is mildly panicked that I am going to get it right as I go into labor and that I’ll be vomiting and pooping all over the place while having a baby.  Which will be inconvenient, but I suppose if that happens, I will live and have a great story sometime down the road.

3) I am trying to wrap up loose ends at work before my maternity leave, which I was recently informed they may like to keep permanent due to some possible structural changes and that I should just wait and see how it goes.  Cross your fingers that there is a place for me down the road.  I like my job.  I like making some money.  Honestly, the whole thing has been very awkward and confusing for me. But one must not dwell or stress, especially when one has a baby about to crawl out of her mouth.  Life’s too short, and this is clearly something I have no control over.  Lately, when I realize I have no control over a situation, I drop that shit like it’s hot.

4) I have to take the final for my statistics class between now and May 4.  I need to study for it because statistics, in case you were wondering, doesn’t make ANY SENSE AT ALL. I like statistics about as much as I like having a baby try to climb out of my throat.  I should have studied tonight, but I didn’t.  I watched The Office and I watched A Baby Story instead.

5) Craig and I are buying a house in Indiana and will be moving our family there in June.  I am about to resume my status as a Hoosier.  We are technically going to be a smidge bit closer to Chicago than where we currently reside – even though we will live in another state.  It is a beautiful home.  And I am thrilled to be moving into it.  We’re going to have a lot more space.  We’re going to have a basement which I always kind of wanted.  So there’s that.  Each kid gets their own room.  It has a basketball hoop in the driveway.  It’s an 8 minute walk to the grade school and it’s a 40 minute drive to my parents.  I am sort of over the moon about the house.  In fact, at the inspection, I took over 100 pictures of it.  Though I do think our timing is probably not the most convenient — as I’m pretty much going to be popping out a baby (from my throat, most likely), coming home from the hospital, and then figuring out all of the moving things — you know, cleaning carpets and painting and what furniture we need, and packing, and finding a new preschool, and, well, you know the drill.  All of it.

I think that’s it though.  That’s pretty much it. Hardee har har.

Life is so good right now, you know.  Other than the awkward job situation, it’s all just raining blessings!  There are so many good things happening and I do feel incredibly lucky and grateful.

But I am also exhausted.  I am overwhelmed. I am a hormonal hot mess.  And I am so very ready to meet my new son.  To hold him and kiss him and introduce him to his brothers who are climbing the walls to see him.  To change his diaper and give him his first screechy bath.  To rock him to sleep.  To read him Goodnight Moon and cry with him during the middle of the night when he won’t go to bed.  To take him for walks in his new neighborhood. To mother him.  I’m just so excited.

I am hopeful that the next time I post, in about 3 months I assume, I will be able to announce the birth of my beautiful new son.  Wish me luck.  My midwife said some disturbing things to me today.  I won’t repeat the most disturbing thing because my parents and my inlaws read this and I don’t know that they could ever fully recuperate from the image that she painted for me.  The second most disturbing thing she said was that she thinks this may be my biggest baby yet.  Which… just… OMG…Sam was 9 lbs 10 oz.  So, wish me luck, guys.

I hope you are well.  I hope you are happy.  I wish you luck, too.  Good luck in whatever is your next bold and dashing adventure.

Oh statistics, you are the pits o’ hell.

It’s going to be so cool when, in pursuit of my nursing degree, I get to start studying things that remotely resemble nursing.

Because Poisson and binomial distributions and factorials and all that jazz seem unlikely to come up.  I mean, I know I’ll need to know how to do math, but do you think I’ll need to know what the cumulative probability is  of getting the mean less two standard deviation’s worth of changes to wikipedia’s website during a minute is.  Because my point is this: that is what I spent all evening figuring out.  I can tell you that information.  And that makes me so sad inside. It’s information that feels extraneous to my nursing needs is what I’m saying.

But I got my heinous homework done for the week, and now tomorrow, I get to put the baby’s room together.  Oh yes, I do.

I folded a pair of his new socks today.  And they are SO CUTE.  OMG.  TINY BABY FEET.  Craig sort of burst my bubble and goes “you know his feet will never actually fit in those socks because we make gigantic babies whose feet come out looking like giant hams.”  But STILL.  BABY SOCKS!!!!!

Craig is super stressed out because the bassinet I bought off Craigslist instructs us to spot clean or handwash only and I’ve told him I refuse to follow those instructions and will be washing it in the machine on gentle cycle.  As if I’m going to spot clean that thing.  I don’t know what that other baby that used it before my baby was doing in there and I’m not taking my chances.  I was all, dude, let’s just do it on gentle cycle. It’ll be fine.  I like to live dangerously.  He is horrified that I plan to do this.  But he’s learned to live with the horror for the most part. Life with me can be tough.  Just like Poisson distributions.

I’ll let you know how it comes out.  I’m sure it’ll be fine.

Shall we figure out the cumulative probability that I’m going to ruin the new bassinet in the wash?

Yes?

No way Jose.  I’m done with my homework suckas.

The baby seems to only have discovered part of his living quarters and he spends his entire existence curled up in what feels like a really tight little ball on the left side of my body.  I urge him to spread out and cut me some slack, because it can be sort of uncomfortable the way he insists on putting all of his mass into this even smaller space than is necessary.  I give him gentle pats and nudges over to other more spacious areas in my abdomen, but he refuses.  I raise such stubborn people and it is a complete and utter mystery to me how they came to be that way.