according to plan. However, that didn't stop me from hoping that
SOMETHING would go according to plan. In my better moments I remember
that I have this beautiful baby boy... and that was the plan... and
NOTHING else matters. Really, he's beautiful, and it's hard to feign
modesty. I stare at him for hours. There are no words for how deeply
I have fallen in love with him.
I'm healing rather nicely from the c section. My last night in the
hospital I was terrified to come home. I could barely get out of bed,
let alone take care of a baby, never mind getting out of bed to take
care of a baby. Soon enough though I could get out of bed, and now I
can even sleep on my side - which even a week ago felt like it was
never going to happen again. I'm still sore though, and have an
interesting numb band of skin across my belly, and can't for the life
of me understand why anyone would CHOOSE to have a section... but
there you have it. The good news is that I've been assured I'm a
great candidate for a VBAC because the largest deciding factor was
that he was breech.
Lots of people like to tell me how safe breech births are, how they
were breech, or their baby was breech, and how I should have at least
tried to do it, how they should have let me do it... Whatever. I'm
totally confident I made the right decision. I feel the OB explained
everything to me in the most neutral manner possible. He assured me
that breech births are much safer than they sound, and that he would
gladly support me if I wanted to try a vaginal delivery. He also
assured me that a c section was going to be much safer for the baby
with my particular constellation of circumstances. Even my midwives
felt that a c section was the safest route, and if anyone was going to
discourage me from a c section it would be them. So yes, maybe I
could have had him vaginally, but after all this time I wanted what
was safest for The Little Dude. I would have never forgiven myself if
I'd tried and something had happened. I'd waited far too long to
gamble at the last moment.
Even more disappointing than the c section is that I'm no longer
breastfeeding. He lost weight at the beginning, to be expected of
course. Then he lost more and hit that magical 10% loss where
everyone starts to worry. So a plan was made to boost supply (though
NOBODY thought that was the problem) and his consumption. Then he
gained a little. Then the plan started making me miserable and I
questioned whether this was going to work or not.
If you've been with me a while, you may remember my breast reduction I
scheduled when I accepted that I'd never become pregnant and we were
going to adopt our children. When I had that surgery I knew I may
never be able to breastfeed, but getting pregnant seemed so unlikely
that I told myself that if I was every lucky enough to get pregnant
I'd be so thrilled to actually have a baby that I wouldn't even be
worried about breastfeeding. It's true. I'm sad, but I'm so over it.
When my midwife came back to weigh him one Monday morning and we
found out he'd lost 4 more ounces over the weekend I was devastated.
The plan wasn't working and my baby was wasting away. So we made a
new plan, but the more I thought about the new plan the more miserable
and anxious I became. So together we decided to formula feed.
Everyone, with few exceptions, has been really supportive - even
knowing how much I was looking forward to breastfeeding. Of course,
more than breastfeeding, I was looking forward to watching my son grow
and thrive... which he was not doing while I was breastfeeding. He's
gaining great now though, should regain his birth weight soon, and
will be fitting these 'newborn' clothes before long.
A healthy baby was the only part of the plan that mattered.
Um, and I don't know what else. Hopefully we'll settle into a routine
and I'll post more often, but in the meantime just know that I'm the
happiest me I've ever been.
