Due Date

Today is my due date...or was anyway... My beautiful little girl had a different plan. Instead of anxiously awaiting the contractions or water breaking, I'm snuggling my 12 day old peanut.

Yes, she was 12 days early. Not very early by most standards, but my first daughter stayed snuggled in there until a week after her due date. I think I expected the same for this one.

I was caught by complete surprise. There was no way I was in labor already. There was still so much to do and more importantly, she was still breech. I needed more time... And so I refused to let myself or anyone else think I was in labor for longer than I should have.

I remember sitting at work wondering to myself if anyone could tell how uncomfortable I was. I remember the feeling of dread when I finally called the nurse and how uninterested she seemed in my contractions until I told her that my babe was breech. I remember praying for the doc to call me back quicker and praying even harder that the contractions stopped before he called. And worst of all, the tears that came when I called Adam to come get me to go to the hospital.

Don't get me wrong. I was ecstatic at the thought that I might meet my baby soon. I couldn't wait to see her sweet face. I was dying to know if she had hair. I wanted to snuggle her close and inhale that scent that only comes from a fresh new life. I relished in the thought of Scarlett seeing her sister for the first time.

But I was scared. In fact, terrified is probably a better word.

I was at the hospital the day before for an external version. It was unsuccessful. As many times as she had turned down and back again, she wouldn't budge an inch when the doc pushed. I left the hospital that day and went right back to trying all the little tricks that worked before. None of them worked, as I could still feel her head in my ribs. I wasn't overly worried yet, as I had 2 weeks before my due date. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Somewhere between my call to the doctor, and the time I got hooked up to the monitors (just over an hour), my contractions went from 8-10 minutes apart to 2-4 minutes apart.

I had the sweetest nurse I could have asked for. She was so wonderful and patient with me. She talked through my concerns with me and understood when I needed time to process the things they were telling me. I am so thankful for that. There were plenty of nurses there who were far from kind or understanding of my situation.

She called the doctor after monitoring me for a half hour (contractions 2-3 minutes apart and dilated 3 cm) and getting and ultrasound to confirm breech position. I could hear the conversation...or her side of the conversation. I imagined what he was saying, based on her responses. The last thing I remember hearing from their conversation was "c-section? OK." and I couldn't hold back the tears.

Adam held back his excitement (he'd been saying for a week how ready he was for babe to be here already). He knew it was a hard thing for me to come to. We had several conversations over the previous few weeks about c-section and the lengths I would go to in order to avoid one. So instead of grinning ear to ear, like I'm sure would've been his first instinct, he held me close and let me wallow in that sorrow until the nurse came back in a few minutes later.

She confirmed what I had heard. The doc wants to do a c-section, but he'd be in to talk with me when he arrived. Then she didn't leave my side until the doc came and left. She answered every question I could think to ask (some of it, I find out now, was more comforting answers than real ones...like the size of my incision...).

When the doc came in to talk, he explained the situation to me several times. Each time he would tell me the reasons a c-section was the best possible outcome right now, he would wait for me to agree. After a minute of silence, he started the speech again, using different words and tones. I understood completely what he was saying, but couldn't make myself give him the OK. After a quite a few minutes of talking in circles, I mustered up "alright".

Then came the whirlwind.

Over the next hour, I was prepped for the c-section. There wasn't a time in that hour that there was less than 3 nurses around me. It was so hectic. One wanted my arm for the IV, one wanted to help me understand the consent forms, another was getting medications ready for me...I felt like I barely had a moment to catch my breath. I don't think I really got a chance to let it sink in.

I did manage to get some excitement going sometime during that hour. I made calls to the people I promised and announced that our babe would be arriving. Wow. She was really coming!! As scary as the impending surgery part was, I was going to meet the little girl who I had been growing for so many months.

Walking into the surgery room was really overwhelming. It was kind of a process for me, where I had to pause every few steps or around every corner to let it soak in for a moment. For me, surgery has always been scary. No matter what it was for or how simple it was or how quickly I was suppose to recover. Just the idea of induced sleep and people working inside my body makes me tense. This time, not only are the working on me, but my unborn daughter was involved too. I think that made the stakes a lot higher in my mind and the surgery a lot scarier.

I was given the spinal while Adam watched from outside the door. I'm not good with needles... thank goodness I didn't see what they used or how it was done. It was a weird sensation though. I expected to be completely numb from the chest down, but I could feel the doctor touching me. It wasn't painful at all, just weird. It was like every time I felt a touch, I expected pain. It was kind of anxiety inducing. Time went really quickly though, and before I realized it, Olivia made her way into the world.

It seemed to take a while to get her cleaned up and over to see me, but once she was near me, nothing else mattered. I don't remember feeling the doctor anymore, I didn't hear the anesthesiologist anymore and my anxiety fell away. I'm so thankful the doctor allowed her to stay in the room with me. That was one thing I was really adamant about. I'd always heard they took the baby to another room while they closed up the incision and I couldn't bear the thought.

Recovery has been harder than I expected. There's no way to know, really, unless you've been through it I guess. It's just hard to feel that pain all the time. It's hard for me to not pick up Scarlett and hard for her to understand why I can't. I feel like this transition to having a new sister has been harder because of that. I suppose there is no way to really know though.

I know I mentioned my incision earlier...if you're wondering, the nurse said it'd be about 3 inches (the doc did too)...it's more like 5. It seems to be healing really well though, and I doubt it will leave much of a scar. Not that it is visible to anyone anyway...

Gosh, this is a lot longer than I thought it'd be. And a lot more depressing. I went back and read it a couple times. I want it to be so much happier, but right now, this is my reality. This is my truth. I think as I come to terms with how it all happened, it will be happier, but right now it is what it is. This is how I feel right this moment.

I struggle a lot right now with the complete disconnect I have with the birth. I don't feel like I was a part of it. I think once I can connect with it, come to terms with the fact that it didn't go like I planned and transition into being a mommy of two, I will feel a lot better and this story will be a lot shorter and sound a lot happier.

In the end, I have an incredible baby. Miss Olivia Johanna was born at 4:17pm on April 8th. She seems like such a peanut compared to her sister. She was just 7lbs 13 oz and 20.5 inches...Scarlett was a whole pound and a whole inch bigger. She is just a sweet little baby though. I rarely hear fusses from her and if she cries, it's because you are changing her clothes or diaper. I remember Scarlett doing the same thing for a few weeks. She is a champion sleeper, too. I've been getting good sleep every night...she has given herself a schedule of sleeps and eats at night. It's amazing. My little Liv has the sweetest smiles and the warmest cuddles...and she has that fantastic baby smell. I don't think there is anything better than that smell. Not only that, but her sister adores her. I can't wait to watch them grow up together. Scarlett constantly talks about her sister and wants to hold and kiss her and tell her "I yove yooo..mo mo more!"

I suppose it doesn't really matter how she arrived. It's in the past...what matters right now is her and the rest of my family. We are all happy, we are all healthy and we are closer because of the things we've been through together.