38+6 & 0 Progress
Today we had our doc's appointment. It was actually a two-parter, since our first appointment was just a urine test (my doc was called in for a C-section in the morning so we had to reschedule), and it was our second that was the check-up.
It didn't go well.
Stepping on the scale confirmed my worst fears: weight gain (again). A lot of weight...for one week. So much weight, in fact, that the doctor asked if I had consumed a significant amount of sodium recently. Truth is, I had. My mind raced back to my 15 Dorito chips, serving of lasagna at lunch, and Gatorade hydration...and then the Chinese and French food from yesterday. Surely it's water retention, I rationalized to myself. I mean, I can barely make a fist anymore and my toes have rolls. This is definitely not normal. But does that explain the overall weight gain of 40 pounds (yes, I've hit the big 4-0, peeps)?!? The nurse who weighed me looked at me sympathetically, attempting to reassure me that it was just the baby gaining weight. Somehow, I doubt I'll be birthing a 40-pound lardball, but thanks for trying.
Next came the internal exam, which proved my other unfortunate suspicion: a long cervix and still just 1 cm dilated. In layman's terms, the baby's head still hasn't engaged and she's not ready to make her debut. Not even close. The doc tried to push her down a bit to feel around and make sure she wasn't breach (thank God she isn't), while I focused on breathing through the discomfort of having a doc's hand up my hooha. TMI? Maybe.
Then came the *other* piece of bad news. My doc, who had told me way back when I wasn't paying attention in my idealistic second trimester that she'd be taking 2 weeks of vacay in Feb., reminded me that she leaves on Feb. 1st. In my memory, her holidays didn't begin until mid-Feb. Feb. 1st?! What?!
What that means is that if I go into labour any later than 40 weeks + 4 days, I will need to be delivered by another doctor. She asked me if I wanted to begin inductions to try to deliver while she's still in town; this is apparently something that some moms insist on, because they are so married to the idea of being delivered by their doc. Of course, I don't share in the sentiment because I believe baby comes when baby's ready, so I had to calmly begin my worst-case-scenario Q & A's: what are the chances I'll get a female doc to deliver my baby? will they honour my birth plan or are they more likely to jump to C-sections and epidurals and pitocin? will they be as competent as my current doc? And I had to make a quick and quiet peace with this news, facing down what is probably the reality that my doctor will not be delivering my baby. Some substitute doc, possibly male, will be my attending physician in the event that the delivery goes awry. Great.
*deep breath* I keep telling myself that God is in control. He is sovereign. Nothing occurs that doesn't pass by Him first. He loves baby. He loves me. He will take care of us. We will be okay. God is good. And on and on my affirmations race through my head as I try to cope with the unexpected and the now unknown. A Type A control freak like me does not like to be out of the driver's seat, and yet, here I am, still (but not so sweetly) surrendered to my Creator whose plan is bigger than my own and who has chosen for me to walk this path without a road map.
So here we are, at nearly 39 weeks. Here I am, still pregnant, still waiting and hoping and trusting in Jesus to take care of me. Am I in good hands? Yes, the best. But does it make it easier to cope, in light of new aches and pains and reduced sleep and factors beyond my control like baby's unwillingness to budge? Debatable.
May I survive this season, and may He be glorified in spite of my anxieties and uncertainties.
And may my next doc's appointment be much better than today's.
It didn't go well.
Next came the internal exam, which proved my other unfortunate suspicion: a long cervix and still just 1 cm dilated. In layman's terms, the baby's head still hasn't engaged and she's not ready to make her debut. Not even close. The doc tried to push her down a bit to feel around and make sure she wasn't breach (thank God she isn't), while I focused on breathing through the discomfort of having a doc's hand up my hooha. TMI? Maybe.
What that means is that if I go into labour any later than 40 weeks + 4 days, I will need to be delivered by another doctor. She asked me if I wanted to begin inductions to try to deliver while she's still in town; this is apparently something that some moms insist on, because they are so married to the idea of being delivered by their doc. Of course, I don't share in the sentiment because I believe baby comes when baby's ready, so I had to calmly begin my worst-case-scenario Q & A's: what are the chances I'll get a female doc to deliver my baby? will they honour my birth plan or are they more likely to jump to C-sections and epidurals and pitocin? will they be as competent as my current doc? And I had to make a quick and quiet peace with this news, facing down what is probably the reality that my doctor will not be delivering my baby. Some substitute doc, possibly male, will be my attending physician in the event that the delivery goes awry. Great.
*deep breath* I keep telling myself that God is in control. He is sovereign. Nothing occurs that doesn't pass by Him first. He loves baby. He loves me. He will take care of us. We will be okay. God is good. And on and on my affirmations race through my head as I try to cope with the unexpected and the now unknown. A Type A control freak like me does not like to be out of the driver's seat, and yet, here I am, still (but not so sweetly) surrendered to my Creator whose plan is bigger than my own and who has chosen for me to walk this path without a road map.
So here we are, at nearly 39 weeks. Here I am, still pregnant, still waiting and hoping and trusting in Jesus to take care of me. Am I in good hands? Yes, the best. But does it make it easier to cope, in light of new aches and pains and reduced sleep and factors beyond my control like baby's unwillingness to budge? Debatable.
May I survive this season, and may He be glorified in spite of my anxieties and uncertainties.
And may my next doc's appointment be much better than today's.
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