I don't know, maybe its because I'm dreaming a lot and having heartburn. Maybe its because my son will turn one in a month, but I'm thinking about being pregnant again. Also, I just happen to catch "A Baby Story" on TV a lot lately.
Today I watched a delivery that was very similar to mine. The woman had to be induced, ended up not progressing, and then having a C-Section. I cried with her, when she found out that her deliver wasn't going to go as planned. I can't believe it still hurts for me. Because I've never shared it here, and I should write down everything while I still remember it (and have only one deliver story so far...)
On Wednesday, May 14, I left school at noon because it was my last day, even though my due date wasn't until the 31st. The previous week I had gone to the doctor and found out that my blood pressure was high. They did a 24 hour urine over the weekend. I went to my appointment at 4:00 that afternoon. Jason got off work early so he met me there and was in the room when the nurse practitioner came in and basically said that I had pre-clampsia (high blood pressure and protein in my urine) and I was going to go to the hospital. The doctor came in minutes later, and Jason and I both were stunned. My due date was two and half weeks away, I wasn't dialated, and I wasn't having any contractions!? But, nonetheless, we had to go. They were going to induce me because I was in too much danger, health-wise.
So they gave us an hour to go and pack (we hadn't even packed our bags yet!). We were at the hospital and checked in by about 6:30 that evening. They gave me the stuff to help me start to dialate. We called everyone. They weren't going to break my water or start me on the medicine to induce me until the next morning. So, only my mom came by that night. Jason stayed with me and slept on a little bed next to me. I was totally excited and nervous!
On Thursday, May 15, at about 8:00am they broke my water and started the medicine. The contractions started right away. They were tolerable for about an hour. Then, a little harder and progressively harder. By about 11:30 that morning I had reached my limit. I called for the epidural (even though I had only dilated 3 cm). After that, I was much better. I slept for an hour and had a few more visitors. By about 2:30 the doctor checked me again...I hadn't dialated and his head was facing the wrong direction. She spent a half hour trying to maneuver him into position. She couldn't do it. By 3:00 she was talking about doing a C-section. His heart rate was dropping and my contractions were not regular at all.
The room was suddenly a rush and busy! Jason ran out to tell everyone that I was going to go to surgery. I remember my mom coming in and kissing me. That's when I teared up. I was really nervous by then. The nurses had me sign a bunch of papers. They rushed around my room in an orderly but quick fashion. Soon, I was being wheeled down the hallway into the OR. While they were getting me ready, I was really nervous because Jason had to wait outside for a few minutes. One of the doctors asked me how I was doing and I told him that I was really nervous. He then let Jason come in (since he was a resident and could be trusted not to touch anything) earlier than they normally let dads come into the OR. He held my hand the whole time. I remember the pressure when the doctors took him out. I remember the joy of "its a boy!" when they called it out!
Jason and I both cried. We wept that it was finally over. I wept because I had done it. I had carried him, and here he was: Jack Allen Frazer - Born at exactly 4:oopm, on May 15th, and weighed 6lbs and 7 oz.
The recovery was hard. Like I said, the wound (emotionally) is still there and is opened again occasionally. I struggled with the feelings of failure. I hadn't been able to deliver him properly...I had failed. It has taken 11 months to say that its "ok" that I had a C-section. (and really mean that "its ok.") On top of everything, I couldn't nurse him past 4 months old. My milk dried up for no reason. That added to my list of failures.
But you know, even though I have that wound (and a real scar to remind me!!)....God has been here. He has been faithful. Even in my darkest hours, He never left me. I couldn't always feel Him or see Him, or even believe Him....but He was always there.
So, here is why its "ok" :
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