strike one

Last week started with the big strike one. I was so eagerly excited for our first official doctors visit at our new OBGYN. After a lot of thought over our previous doctor, and the group in which he belonged, I began searching elsewhere. I really want to try for a vaginal birth this time (from now on will be referred to as a VBAC). I've been very honest on here about how horrible my recovery was, how impersonal and scary the experience was for me. It left me wanting so much more for my next delivery. So I was very excited when I met with one of the two doctors last fall at the new OB's office and he seemed pretty encouraging of a VBAC. He let me know about the risks, rupture, emergency c-section, possibly hysterectomy, death or complications to both baby and mom ( I know...WHY do I want this???) but also that the odds of anything happening were small, 0.7%. I felt a healthy level of fear as well as an even bigger helping of optimism that this doctor seemed supportive. But seeing as all the raving reviews about this OB were for his wife and partner, I switched to her.

So last Tuesday Scott took off work and met me there. We sat patiently, knowing we were minutes from seeing the Bean. Our ultrasound appointment was first and so unlike our previous OB's we actually were called back at our actual appointment time, not an hour later. I digress. The ultrasound tech was informative and honest but lacking any warmth what so ever. She did however, let us know that not only would we get the standard 20 week ultrasound but like 4-5 others spaced through out the entire pregnancy. WHAT?! Oh it was like Christmas. Last time the length of time between 20 weeks and delivery was SO long without another glimpse of our little man, and this time I'd get to see the Bean like 6 times?? It was too much.

We were ushered back to the lobby to wait for our doctor's appointment. We did have to wait awhile, but once the doctor walked in it didn't matter. She was immediately warm, knowing my name before she walked in, right away shaking my hand and introducing herself. She sat and started going over my past birth experience and Scott and I both got to share out hearts and fears and about Henry's birth and then Scott wrapped it up by saying

" So you can see why we're really hoping for a VBAC this time."

That's when the walls caved in. She looked at me with a bitter smile and said

"I was hoping you weren't going to say that".

Turns out they don't offer VBAC's. It is just the two of them in the practice. And by law, if you're going for a VBAC, once you're admitted to the hospital your doctor can not leave until you deliver, and unfortunately that is not something they can offer with just the two of them.

I held it together.
I asked if she knew of any doctors that offer VBAC's that she would recommend. She gave me a name.

Scott asked her if she only allowed 3 c-sections.
(Which was another concern of ours. We've always thought 3-4 kids, and most doctors recommend only 3 c-sections)

She said she had no problem doing 4.
She apologized profusely, said to take our time. Not to feel rushed, that she would completely understand if we switched and that we have plenty of time to make an educated decision.

We left and drove separately to lunch. It was suppose to be a celebratory lunch. We were going to sit and eat amazing Italian food and stare at our bean's ultrasound pictures. I barely made it to the restaurant before breaking down. I pulled it together in the parking lot, got out, walked in, got a table and proceeded to break down all over again. Poor Scott.

If there's anything he loves more than me crying, it's me crying in public. Which I proceeded to do off and of though out the entire meal.

I struggled with guilt. Am I being selfish? Is this a pride thing on my part? Am I doing what's best for the baby or for me? Am I selfish for risking so much just so I can have a (hopefully) more ideal delivery? But the recovery was HORRIFIC. I couldn't even pick up Henry. I couldn't drive for almost 3 weeks. The littlest activity completely wiped me out. I was on vicodin for over two weeks. And this time I will have a 2 year old. How am I not suppose to pick him for over a month? HOW? It was too much.

So I picked up the pictures of the Bean. And I started crying again. Crying because I don't know the answer. I just don't know. I could find another doctor. I could deliver a perfectly healthy baby naturally. But am I willing to risk this little life? And any potential other children we want to have? What about my own health?

I don't have an answer.

Scott has been so supportive, allowing me the freedom to make the decision with his support whichever way I decide. But he's fearful. Fearful of losing a child. Fearful of losing his wife. Fearful of the unknown. And I am fearful of all this and more.

I just don't know. We have time to decide. But I covet your prayers and support.