Dr. Shannon suggested I try another ECV at another hospital next week. She thinks it is safe and could work, even though the other doctor did not think it was safe and would work. I slept terribly last night due to the anxiety of all of this. I want a natural birth so badly. I’m so scared of major abdominal surgery and the risks that come with it. BUT I also need to be able to turn my brain off and move forward with a hard and fast plan. Another week of “I might have a natural birth or I might have surgery” is like purgatory.
I’m also starting to feel that even if the Chicken could be turned, that I’d still end up on the operating table because that is just how this pregnancy has gone. You know? It seems most women in my family have had very traumatic first births, some ended up in surgery and others ended up with dreadful tearing and serious fear during birth. I have also learned that there is a pretty strong history of breech birth in both my family and the Professor’s family. I don’t know if it is worth fighting anymore. I mean, what is worse to recover from: a planned Cesarean or an emergency? A planned Cesarean or a third or fourth-degree tear?
Yesterday I got my GBS results and of course, it was positive. Just like everything else in my pregnancy and health history – always the complication. So even if I did get a natural birth, I would need IV antibiotics. The antibiotics they give you are penicillin which I’m allergic to so the doctor would give me a different class of drug from the same family and we would “hope” I don’t have a reaction.
Um, hope I don’t have a reaction? I think having a drug reaction while in hard labor sounds like the absolute worst thing ever. It sounds like the kind of thing that would drive me out the 12th floor window, or at least to the surgery table with instructions to knock me the fuck out and not wake me up until my baby was 18.
I feel like I’m in Ground Hog Day this week. Every day I wake up in a panic. Every day I feel guilty because I’ve stopped all the ridiculous things I’d been doing to try and turn baby. Every morning I watch more cesarean birth videos trying to prepare myself and every time I feel this overwhelming sense of dread that I’m going to be that tiny percent that does not leave the operating room healthy and with all her parts intact or, even worse, alive.
Yesterday I felt so much better about the direction all of this was heading. Today, I’m a mess. For the first time since I started Prozac I had to go home after getting halfway to work because I realized I did not count the cats before I left (yes, I count the cats every single time I lave the house and come home. This means two things: 1. I need more mental help and 2. we have too many cats), nor did I check the doors and windows to make sure they were locked. Hello OCD, long time no see. Please go the fuck away.