This is the phrase featured on a magnet that graces a family friend’s refrigerator and I have always been drawn towards it. We plan outdoor parties. It rains. We plan the perfect outfit. We spill our morning coffee on it. We plan the ideal gift. The store is out of stock. The birth of a baby is no different.
Caiden’s pregnancy and delivery was the epitome of that saying. I learned that I was pregnant right after I had registered for the two hardest courses in my Masters’ program, was in the midst of planning our wedding, and I was in the process of seeking out a new teaching position. We Plan. God Laughs. Despite the tailspin I was in discovering the news that my firstborn was on his way, I prepared for his arrival by the book. I completed every checklist, followed all of my doctors’ recommendations, journaled my experience during the 9-month “adventure”, took my vitamins, attended childbirth classes, spent every Saturday morning driving to Holyoke to take prenatal yoga, read every best-selling parenting book, and practiced my breathing techniques religiously. If I was going to have a baby, I was going to do it “right”. We Plan. God Laughs.
Without going into gory details, Caiden’s actual birth story was less than ideal from a mother’s perspective. To start off, he came into this world during a blizzard. A legit, close-Western Mass down, crazy accumulation blizzard. I started early labor around 2:30am and decided to wait to call the midwives because I had a scheduled appointment at 11am. Dan and I braved the storm driving about 15 mph to the West Springfield office only to be met by a receptionist saying, “Oh. We probably should have called you. We have canceled all appointments for today.” Back into the car we went. When we got home, the snow was so deep that we couldn’t get our car up the driveway. As I attempted to walk up the slick incline, I ended up collapsed and on all fours having incredibly strong contractions. I thought I was going to have to give birth in my kitchen. Around 1:30pm that afternoon we received a phone call from the midwives’ office saying that since the snow had slowed down and roadways were clearing they would be able to see me. Needless to say, we took the appointment. I got checked and was told that I should head to the hospital in a few hours (I’d dilated, but not “enough”. Due to the frequency of the contractions though there was no doubt that he was on his way.) After laboring hardcore at home, we were finally admitted into Baystate by 9pm that night. At 7am the following morning, it was time to push. I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. And continued to push until 2:30pm. Let’s put it this way: I had been laboring in that hospital for so long that I went through the shift-changes of 3 different midwives. Caiden was in a posterior position (face-up when he should be face down towards my back) and physically could not get out. I was beyond exhausted and finally an obstetrician was called in and ordered an emergency C-section. The postpartum period was also less than ideal for me. I felt like the sorriest excuse for a mother. I believed that I was a failure in the “delivery department”, contended with something beyond the normal “baby blues”, couldn’t breastfeed, and healing from the surgery itself was a long and painful process. We Plan. God Laughs.
This time around, with regard to pregnancy and delivery, I know not to plan too much. However, some days, I feel like I have taken it to the opposite extreme. Preparations have been kept to a “what’s necessary” basis. I have maintained a pregnancy journal, but did a weekly check-in on baby’s progress rather than a day-by-day development lesson. Baby’s clothes have been put away, but not on color-coded hangers denoting size. The bassinet it out, but often serves as a place to hang my towel after a shower. My hospital bag is packed. Sorta.
It is certainly not the case of caring less about this baby. Part of it is the lack of time. Part of it is the lack of energy. Part of it is being a “seasoned mom”, knowing what I can live with and without. But there is also a part that I really don’t like to acknowledge: “Part Unknown and Anxious”.
Seeing that Caiden’s birth ended up in a C-section, I have the option of just going ahead and scheduling another section for this baby. I have thought long and hard about this. I have done hours of research on the alternatives, the pros and cons of repeat caesareans and VBACs (vaginal births after caesarean), talked to doctors, midwives, and other mothers, and I have lost many hours of sleep over the decision. After all of this, however, I decided to attempt a VBAC. I have asked the midwives at every prenatal visit if this baby is in a good position for delivery and not posterior. So far, so good. He’s measuring a bit smaller than his big brother, which is a “plus”. So although a scheduled C-section has a number of positive points such as I would know exactly when my baby would be here, I could solidify childcare for Caiden, I could anticipate the length of my hospital stay, and I wouldn’t have to labor at all, I think that I owe it to myself to at least try to deliver this baby naturally. With drugs, of course. Lots of drugs. But, yet again, We Plan. God Laughs.
I woke up at 3:09am on Tuesday with cramping and contractions. After timing them for a solid hour, the frequency and duration of them met all qualifications to make “The Call” to the midwives. I was told to go to the hospital and had checked-in by 6:30am. My mom rushed over to our house to watch Caiden, my bag was tossed into the trunk of our car, and Dan grabbed a giant coffee to prepare himself for a long day. Lying in the WETU ward of Baystate, however, everything slowed down and I was discharged 4 hours later. Upon examination, though, we received news that the baby had started to shift and was now starting to turn into a posterior position. Great. For the past 9 months he has been exactly where he should be. Head down. Face down. Nice and compact. A perfect contender for a VBAC! And now days before his due date: This. We Plan. God Laughs.
I have a regularly scheduled prenatal appointment tomorrow morning that is accompanying an ultrasound. After months of mentally and physically preparing myself for a VBAC, if we learn that this baby is, indeed, face up and is not likely to turn on his own, I believe that am going to ask to schedule another C-section ASAP. Honestly, I have no idea as to what to expect from all of this. So I am trying my best to not expect anything at all. There is an army of clichés that echo in my mind when I think about it. Prepare for the worse and hope for the best. It is what it is. Focus on the positive. I must remember that we plan and God laughs, but also—and more importantly-- keep in mind that He never gives us more than we can handle.
To be continued…
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