The roller-coaster continues . . . Doc came in this morning with some kind of portable u/s monitor thingy to check on the baby’s movement and the amniotic fluid. We could see it practicing breathing, wiggling around, and plenty of fluid. All is well with the Critter! Not so much with the Mama! BP was frustratingly up again this morning (144/107), despite a pretty solid sleep.
So we had a frank discussion about blood flow, placenta, contractions, and whatnot – as I understand it, I had a contraction while on the monitor the other day which showed that the baby “doesn’t like” contractions. More specifically, the contraction seemed to compromise the blood flow to the Critter. Because high BP can also negatively impact blood flow through the placenta, that’s additional cause for them to keep me here for regular monitoring.
I don’t mind the bedrest, and I don’t mind being in the hospital. What I do mind is hearing that even if the baby were to turn head-down, they’d still probably want to do a C-section because of concerns about blood flow during contractions. At 37 weeks. So it’s pretty certain my mom won’t be able to be here. And I don’t know what the implications are for working with a doula; from T’s perspective, there really isn’t a point to hiring her after all.
So while everything the Doc explained made sense, I was (and am) still pretty upset. I’m mad at myself for getting my hopes up for an unmedicated, vaginal birth. I’m upset that I spent all that time reading and learning and thinking about the “midwifery model” of childbirth and becoming convinced that that’s what I wanted. I feel like I’m letting everybody down – myself, T., the baby, and everyone who has a claim on him or her. I feel helpless and a loss of control. I feel cheated. Again. Just as it was hard to read blogs about BFPs and pregnancies before conceiving, it’s hard now to read blogs of women who are on the verge of going into labor. I won’t have that option. I won’t even be allowed to try to push this baby out on my own. I feel like a failure. And I’m scared, I’m scared of the surgery, scared that I’ve done something wrong, that ultimately it’s still my fault (I waited too long to start TTC… I didn’t eat the right foods last summer… I drank too much… all the things you second-guess yourself about… )
I’m putting on a bright face for T’s and my parents, but meanwhile I’m just kind of an emotional wreck over here this morning.