During the appointment the tech took measurements and started making comments about how big the baby was going to be. Just what everyone wants to hear. I figured that he/she'd be larger than Ruby, she was pretty small, but I still wasn't expecting the tech to say that he/she was clocking in at around 11 pounds. In my head I was like, ffuuuuuck! but I also know that these measurements are not the most accurate ever (they were off by 2 pounds with Ruby). Besides that everything else was looking good; heart rate, amniotic levels, breathing rate etc.
I asked if they could tell the sex, and, since Heath didn't want to know he stood facing the corner while she searched. I knew before she typed the words on the screen. It was quite obvious that it was a B-O-Y. I cried, in a good way. I instantly wanted to tell Heath and share the excitement with him but I only bugged him about it once and then I stopped. I just had to make sure that I kept switching back and forth between "he" and "she" in our conversations! (Do I regret finding out ahead of time? Absolutely not. Knowing did not take away from my birth experience)
After the tech left the doctor came in and went over the results. He asked if I had the gestational diabeetus, because apparently most of the time women do not have as much amniotic fluid as I did that late in the game unless they are diabetic. I insisted that I did NOT but he brought it up again several times, which was frustrating.
Did you know that if you previously gave birth to a child that was only 6.12, that there is no way that you can give birth to a child nearing or exceeding 11 pounds? Apparently that is the case, as the doc insisted that he didn't think it was physically possible for me to do so. I know this is bs because my mom had a 11.7-er and I know other people who are much more petite than myself that have given birth to large babies. Way to be encouraging, dude. Gees.
So because of the (supposed) size he didn't think that I was a candidate for a home birth or even a vaginal birth. It was recommend that I have a c-section, sometime in the next few days. For the next 10 minutes the doctor went on to describe the reasons WHY I should have a c-section: Increased risk of shoulder distocia (shoulders getting stuck behind the pubic bone during delivery) which could lead to a difficult delivery, nerve damage, broken clavicle, death of the baby or death of me. I don't think Heath and I said anything the whole time, we were just kind of like, "Whaaaaa....?' It definitely wasn't what we expected to hear.
Even though I knew that I am was perfectly capable of giving birth to a large child (that is kind of what my body was designed to do after all) when someone tells you, "you or your baby could DIE!" I don't know, I freaked out a little. The next day was spent stressing, talking things over with our midwife and doula, reading a lot of research, and trying to listen to my instincts instead of just being scared shitless. I absolutely did not want to have a c-section, for many reasons; being given antibiotics during the procedure, longer recovery time, being separated from the baby after birth, the fact that the baby would not be exposed to helpful bacteria from the birth canal, etc. For me a c-section was just the exact opposite of everything that I hoped my birthing experience would be.
Of course, when it came down to it though the most important thing was the health of the baby. Since my amniotic fluid levels were good and he was overall still very healthy we decided to wait (even though the doc was willing to come in the next day, on a Saturday, to do the procedure). If the weekend had passed and nothing happened we'd do the c-section on Monday or Tuesday but even that deadline created stress for both Heath and I. Eventually we decided to ditch the Mon/Tues deadline and just stick with our original plan of a home birth unless I actually did make it to 42 weeks with no action. Of course, thankfully, we ended up not having to wait that long.
To be continued...