With The Squirt, I elected to have an induction and it failed. I ended up having a c-section which was neither the most or least enjoyable experience of my life.
What was the least enjoyable, you may ask? Well, it just might be the phone calls I get from various personages taking me on a delightful passive aggressive guilt trip revolving around the birth of my children!
When The Squirt was born, I was teaching the worst 5th grade class ever assembled by a soulless, neckless demon from the depths of Hell. I was compounding the problem, I'm sure, by being exhausted, uncomfortable and grouchy but truthfully passing the time with a pack of rabid babboons bent on giving me the Ebola virus would have been a more enjoyable way to spend my day. Then the phone calls began.
One side of the family remained willfully ignorant about the details of pregnancy and childbirth and didn't seem to understand why neither me nor my beloved obstetrician could pinpoint with any accuracy when exactly she would be born and how much she would weigh. I'm already getting the "have they told you how much she weighs?" questions again, and this time I'm answering with the information from my What Not to Expect app..... so today? About 4lbs. "Why is she so small?!? Is there something wrong?" Um no. Did you think that as soon as the sperm hit the egg a 7.5lb baby magically appears? I am under the impression that she grows. You know, gets larger every day. And if someone has invented an intrauterine scale then I certainly haven't heard about it. Le sigh. Last time someone expected to be able to videotape the birth and didn't really want to listen to my objections, so I got the nurses to tell people that nobody other that my husband was allowed in the room because of the Swine Flu outbreaks. L&D nurses are GREAT liars.
So one cold and rainy afternoon in November, I was forced to abandon the rabid babboon hoarde to field a series of passive aggressive phone calls from my own mother and grandmother. It appears that my mother had decided that my unwillingness to consult the Dark Arts to divine when my child would be born so that she could be assured of being present, and my inability to secure travel plans for picking her up from the airport when there were no day or time parameters to consider was code for me saying I Don't Like You And Don't Want You To Ever See My Child. Then to add insult to injury, I expressed interest in spending the last few days of the husband and my life as a couple as, you know, a COUPLE. Without houseguests. I am mortifyingly selfish it seems. Either that or my mother is secretly a 2 year old.
In the last few weeks, I've been trying to make it clear to various family that I don't intend to schedule a C-Section for the birth of kidlet #2. It does not appear to be sinking in for some, but others have decided that I am intentionally inconveniencing them so that I can be sure that they cannot be present when she is born. Out of spite, you know. I am spitefully choosing to give birth in the intended way if possible. Egg on my face, right?
My general feeling on the matter is this: I have a 2 year old. I will have a newborn. I would vastly prefer to avoid major abdominal surgery and the recovery involved. After a C-Section, you're not allowed to pick up anything heavier than your baby for like 2 weeks. Someone explain that to a 2 year old, please? All she would know is that Mama will hold the baby but not her, and I can't hurt her like that if I have the power to possibly avoid the issue at all.
Since I AM the one who will be giving birth to this little Riverdancer, I can't say I particularly care about making it convenient for anyone else. And it really chaps my ass that I'm dealing with passive aggressive guilt trips because my decisions regarding my body, my baby, and my family are inconvenient for people's travel plans. As far as I'm concerned there is exactly ONE other person on earth who has any actual right to be present for the birth of this little girl, and that would be her daddy. If it works out that the more long distance family is able to be there, great. If not, I'm not responsible for that.
So my decision to VBAC if possible is NOT made out of spite to you, Mother. Nor is it intended to relay some secret message of hatred towards you. It is about ME prefering NOT to be cut open and sewn back together when I have this handy dandy doorway all biologically ready for my child to exit. Why smash a hole in the wall if there's already a door to walk through? Of course, if medically necessary I'm not opposed to having another c-section, but it's nobody's decision but mine and my doctor's.
Oh, January, you cannot come swiftly enough.
To Quote Her Madgesty Herself: And I'm not sorry..... it's human nature.... and I'm not sorry, I'm not your b!tch, don't lay your $hit on me.......
Isn't there some sort of witness protection program you could qualify for? Seriously.
ReplyDeleteYou do what you feel is right for your daughters, husband and yourself.
ReplyDeleteAnyone else can fold their complaints in three corners and stick it where the sun don't shine.
As my mother says, "They can just scratch their mad place and get glad."
I had major abdominal surgery when my daughter was two. After 10 days away from her in hospital, I couldn't pick her up when she came running to me on my return. It broke my heart and hers; she rejected me for several days because she couldn't understand why I couldn't hold her - and I didn't have a baby for 'competition'. Tell your mother to sod off.
ReplyDelete