*Original post date: 01-5-14*
Picking a doctor is a tough choice for us this time around. Last time, I had already been seeing a doctor recommended by one of my bosses for regular gynecological visits. He was such a kind and gentle older man and I LOVED his nurses and office staff. His professionalism was light-years beyond my previous (and first) doctor who gifted me with a few colorful horror stories. Seriously. She was the worst. I probably should have reported her or something.
Anyway, it was an easy choice for me because he already had all my records, etc. But towards the end of my pregnancy, Matt and I both started feeling rather uncomfortable and pressured and like he was really focused on making any extra dollars off of us that he could. And then my labor and delivery proved that he just wasn't to be trusted as having my best interest at heart. Hindsight is SO 20/20, my friends.
(If you don't wanna read through all that...and I can't blame you...to find out why I'm not going back to the same doctor, just know that I ended up having a completely medically-induced labor ending in c-section when that was the very last thing EVER that I wanted. Was it maybe truly the best thing for me and for my baby? Maybe. Possibly. I mean, I trust the Lord. But I don't trust that doctor. Not anymore.)
So, here we are. It's been almost 3 days since I took a positive test and I have no doctor. I had already done a ton of research on VBACs (vaginal birth after cesarean) and am aware that very few typical OB/GYNs agree to perform them. I called a birth center conveniently near Josiah's school (appointments before pick-up!) earlier today and she immediately turned me down. Unless I wanna try for a home birth. Uhhh...not that brave or confident. In fact, just imagining that happening gives me a little giggle.
She did give me the name for a doctor they recommend as being friendly to VBAC patients. I googled him. And all I found were unsavory news reports on how he had a history of neglecting patients that resulted in several malpractice suits. YIPES! If that wasn't enough...and it was...his office was also on the other side of town. Ain't nobody got time for that.
I must admit, I started to get a bit defeated. Maybe it's not the end of the world to just have another routine, scheduled c-section. Women do it all the time. Perfectly healthy women. Even women that I know and love and admire and respect. Strong women. How much easier would that be? Not only could we hand-pick this child's birthday (and fit it to work with what's sure to be THE CRAZIEST MONTH OF OUR LIVES!!!) (Did I mention already that this kid is due to arrive two weeks after Welcome Week? Oh Father, your timing is something else.), but I've already done the c-section thing before. I kinda know what to expect whereas with a normal birth...what?!?! Ahhh! Oh my gracious...I don't know. I just don't know. Too many questions and unknowns and uncertainties. Yeah...another simple c-section sounds great.
But as I began to pray and allowed the Lord to quiet my mind and my fears, I felt even more strongly that I needed to not give up so quickly. My body really hasn't recovered so well from that cesarean and I'm not getting any younger. It'll be even more difficult the second time around to repair the damaged muscles. I really had to ask the Lord to help me check my motives for wanting to try for a VBAC. Yes, I feel like I have something to prove and I have a "right" to have the kind of childbirth experience that I "deserve" and...so on. But I'm not sure any of those reasons are genuinely honoring to the Lord. They might sound nice in our humanistic society. I just want what JESUS thinks is best for me, for my body, for this baby, for our whole family.
So all that rambling leads me to this:
After more research, I finally have a few names of seemingly highly recommended doctors who are widely known for their support of VBACs. I'm planning to make a few calls first thing tomorrow morning and I'm praying for wisdom and favor and clarity from the Lord.
I'll update later.
***UPDATE***
After waiting two weeks to finally get an appointment, we saw a woman who is likely to become one of my very best friends over the next several months...and maybe beyond. My new doctor (in the Texas Children's Pavilion for Women in the Med. Center) is wonderful! She was super kind and helpful and gave us both plenty of time to ask all our silly questions. But the best thing of all was how supportive she is of me attempting a VBAC. We both left that first appointment with so much peace and hope. Both of which we never really experienced before. I'm so thankful that I know a God who is concerned with even these small things in my heart.
*Maybe this is the time to clarify, because I'm sure someone reading this is thinking how naive I am. I have zero problems with ending up with another cesarean birth. I did it before and I can do it again. I have a beautiful, perfectly healthy son who was born with a perfect, little round head and no puffy eyes. But I absolutely (still) feel very cheated out of the chance to go into spontaneous labor and see what this body of mine can do. (I definitely have had to walk through the process of forgiveness with my previous doctor...it's a long road, folks, but I'm on my way.) And I am no doctor, but I've gotten to know my body in these 30 years and I believe I could've waited a lot longer to be induced, which possibly could have eliminated both the need for an epidural and major surgery that I've had quite a tough time recovering from.
My desire for a VBAC is simple: God gave me this magnificent, intricate, miraculous body and I just wanna see what it can do! No stress either way.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Friday, February 21, 2014
The Day We Found Out
*For the sake of being better at documenting this pregnancy, I began writing about it since the day we found out. I'll post all the updates since then over the next few days. Not sure how many people will actually read this stuff, but it's for me and my memory.*
Before I got pregnant with Josiah, I'd had all these cute and creative ideas for how to tell Matt. But because we had been trying to get pregnant for a little over a year and a half and because I wasn't really at all expecting the positive test, I ended up just jumping into bed with him still half asleep and showing him the test. Totally anti-climactic, but totally sweet and memorable. I was shocked and excited and, quite frankly, a little disbelieving. I had taken ever so many pregnancy tests and had never once seen a positive. I almost didn't even look at it. So of course, I simply couldn't contain my excitement and immediately told him.
But I promised myself that the next time around, I would definitely just exhibit a little self-control and execute something creative to tell him.
Well, this morning (Monday, January 13th) at about 7am, totally having this major "gut" feeling, but also completely expecting yet another in a long line of negatives, I revealed my SECOND PREGNANCY (!!!!) the exact.same.way. So, I ran into the bedroom with peestick in hand and jumped in on top of my half-asleep husband.
It's amazing what two little lines can do to a person. Like I said, I've had a very strong "feeling" for about a week. Of course, it helps that I was 10 days late (according to a silly iPhone app which may or may not have all the accuracy of the Aztecs). Other than that, any teeny, tiny hint of a pregnancy symptom could easily be explained away as something perfectly normal and completely unrelated to pregnancy. I still dreamed and speculated and counted days and tried to figure out the potential due date. I had previously told Matt that I thought I might be and probably needed to invest in a home test or two. Just in case.
But like I said...my history with my "gut feelings" is not exactly a shining record. Too many times have I been pretty well convinced and have been left with nothing but another set of tortuous cramps and crazy moods. (Well played, Eve.) I even gave myself a little pep-talk in the mirror this morning while doing a little "gotta go" jig.
"Katey. Listen to me. If you pee on this stick and it's positive, you can celebrate and be as excited as you can possibly be. You can be grateful and praise Jesus for the miracle. But if that stick comes back negative, you will still be grateful and praise Jesus. The negative gives you more time to get healthy."
And then I peed. And two little positive lines appeared immediately. And then I freaked out.
Those two little lines confirmed SO MANY things over the last couple days and weeks. Weird dreams, insatiable hunger, cranky moods, inexplicable crying, exhaustion, extra bathroom trips (already?!?!), on and on. But mostly they confirmed that this one time, I'm not crazy. I'm not just some gullible hope-addict that can't seem to get over the fact that it's just not happening. Because sometimes, it feels that way.
So listen. I told Matt (who is excited, by the way) that I really want to be better about documenting more of this pregnancy than I did with Josiah. I still have fairly strong memories of certain aspects of being pregnant with him, but the memory fades, my friends. But I must say, I will most likely not be showing off my "bump", seeing as how said "bump" is already the size of a seven-month pregnant belly. I'm only a mere 5 weeks (when this was written).
It goes without saying just how over-the-moon excited we are! So, so grateful to the Lord that we get to do this all over again. Of course, there are tons of unanswered questions and a million things we could worry about, but for now, we're just so happy.
A few things I want to remember about this day:
-Telling Matt in the very same unoriginal, yet completely significant and sentimental way I did with Josiah.
-Cuddling with him and then a few minutes later, Josiah and dreaming of future cuddles as a family of four.
-Asking Josiah if he wants a brother or a sister and his response being, "sister, but not a girl." Hmmm. We'll see how that one plays out. SO GLAD he doesn't get to be the Decider. (As a side note. We are not telling him for a while. By the time this is posted for public viewing, he will indeed know. We want him to be the first one to know, but are gravely aware of his impeccable repeating abilities. Therefore, it will be a secret of mine and Matt's until we are ready for everyone within Josiah's 10-mile radius to also know. But we always ask him this question...just for kicks.) (Longest "side note" ever.)
-Taking Josiah for a walk/run and to play on the playground and being unable to control the emotions as I watched him play. I was just so overwhelmed at the thought of him as a big brother. Oh, he'll be the best, sweetest, most helpful big brother. Mark my words. The best.
- Going through my list of all the people I want SO BADLY to tell right now. And the creative ways I'll get to tell them. Never gets old.
Before I got pregnant with Josiah, I'd had all these cute and creative ideas for how to tell Matt. But because we had been trying to get pregnant for a little over a year and a half and because I wasn't really at all expecting the positive test, I ended up just jumping into bed with him still half asleep and showing him the test. Totally anti-climactic, but totally sweet and memorable. I was shocked and excited and, quite frankly, a little disbelieving. I had taken ever so many pregnancy tests and had never once seen a positive. I almost didn't even look at it. So of course, I simply couldn't contain my excitement and immediately told him.
But I promised myself that the next time around, I would definitely just exhibit a little self-control and execute something creative to tell him.
Well, this morning (Monday, January 13th) at about 7am, totally having this major "gut" feeling, but also completely expecting yet another in a long line of negatives, I revealed my SECOND PREGNANCY (!!!!) the exact.same.way. So, I ran into the bedroom with peestick in hand and jumped in on top of my half-asleep husband.
It's amazing what two little lines can do to a person. Like I said, I've had a very strong "feeling" for about a week. Of course, it helps that I was 10 days late (according to a silly iPhone app which may or may not have all the accuracy of the Aztecs). Other than that, any teeny, tiny hint of a pregnancy symptom could easily be explained away as something perfectly normal and completely unrelated to pregnancy. I still dreamed and speculated and counted days and tried to figure out the potential due date. I had previously told Matt that I thought I might be and probably needed to invest in a home test or two. Just in case.
But like I said...my history with my "gut feelings" is not exactly a shining record. Too many times have I been pretty well convinced and have been left with nothing but another set of tortuous cramps and crazy moods. (Well played, Eve.) I even gave myself a little pep-talk in the mirror this morning while doing a little "gotta go" jig.
"Katey. Listen to me. If you pee on this stick and it's positive, you can celebrate and be as excited as you can possibly be. You can be grateful and praise Jesus for the miracle. But if that stick comes back negative, you will still be grateful and praise Jesus. The negative gives you more time to get healthy."
And then I peed. And two little positive lines appeared immediately. And then I freaked out.
Those two little lines confirmed SO MANY things over the last couple days and weeks. Weird dreams, insatiable hunger, cranky moods, inexplicable crying, exhaustion, extra bathroom trips (already?!?!), on and on. But mostly they confirmed that this one time, I'm not crazy. I'm not just some gullible hope-addict that can't seem to get over the fact that it's just not happening. Because sometimes, it feels that way.
So listen. I told Matt (who is excited, by the way) that I really want to be better about documenting more of this pregnancy than I did with Josiah. I still have fairly strong memories of certain aspects of being pregnant with him, but the memory fades, my friends. But I must say, I will most likely not be showing off my "bump", seeing as how said "bump" is already the size of a seven-month pregnant belly. I'm only a mere 5 weeks (when this was written).
It goes without saying just how over-the-moon excited we are! So, so grateful to the Lord that we get to do this all over again. Of course, there are tons of unanswered questions and a million things we could worry about, but for now, we're just so happy.
A few things I want to remember about this day:
-Telling Matt in the very same unoriginal, yet completely significant and sentimental way I did with Josiah.
-Cuddling with him and then a few minutes later, Josiah and dreaming of future cuddles as a family of four.
-Asking Josiah if he wants a brother or a sister and his response being, "sister, but not a girl." Hmmm. We'll see how that one plays out. SO GLAD he doesn't get to be the Decider. (As a side note. We are not telling him for a while. By the time this is posted for public viewing, he will indeed know. We want him to be the first one to know, but are gravely aware of his impeccable repeating abilities. Therefore, it will be a secret of mine and Matt's until we are ready for everyone within Josiah's 10-mile radius to also know. But we always ask him this question...just for kicks.) (Longest "side note" ever.)
-Taking Josiah for a walk/run and to play on the playground and being unable to control the emotions as I watched him play. I was just so overwhelmed at the thought of him as a big brother. Oh, he'll be the best, sweetest, most helpful big brother. Mark my words. The best.
- Going through my list of all the people I want SO BADLY to tell right now. And the creative ways I'll get to tell them. Never gets old.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Dear Winter...An Open Letter
Dear Winter,
I love you. I really do. As a girl from Houston, who has never (and will never) get used to the scorching, suffocating heat of the summer, I long for you often. I vowed long ago to never complain about those days when you are fiercer than normal, even when everyone else is, because I would be devastated if you ever took offense and chose to not come around anymore. I so appreciate you and all that you do for my comfort.
But I need to be honest with you today. I'm struggling. I've caught myself several times in the last few days feeling a complaint rise up within me.
You see...yes. It does have a little to do with the fact that you have graced us Houstonians with slightly more than our normal share of wintery weather. We're usually consider ourselves lucky if we have one snow day in 2 or 3 years! But we've had several "ice" days in the last month.
(As a side note and suggestion: I think more people down here would be more welcoming of your presence if you would simply offer just a little bit more of the white stuff along with the frigid temps. It's almost as if you get our hopes up and then just decide at the last minute to play a dirty trick on us. Or at least share the wealth. When our neighbors to the north and west get several actual days of the flurries, it kinda hurts our feeling when all you give is dangerous roads. Just sayin'.)
But here's the real deal. My recent spiral into dissatisfaction with you comes more-so with the lack of sufficient wardrobe. Yes, for me. I'm limited in my cold-weather clothing.
But honestly? For my child.
He's healthy and he's growing like he should and his pants are becoming more and more awkwardly too short every time I put them on him. I cringe. He could care less. And his father doesn't see a difference. But Mommy cares.
But it's not just the pants. It's not even the few long-sleeved shirts he has that are already causing my precious, innocent (*ahem*), little boy to be one who lacks modesty. (He does have a cute, little belly, though. That could be filed under #normalkidproblems. Every kid has that recurring issue of the high-waters. It's called "growing up" and it's something we parents (typically) greatly encourage.
The real issue and struggle I have is the child's coat. To the naked eye, it fits. Sure. But Mommy knows a secret. (*it's two sizes too small*) I chose not to invest in another coat for him because how many really cold days are we gonna have anyway? Yeah. So that's where I am.
See, Winter, my friend. I would never (and will never) ask you to leave. I want you to know that you are always welcome to breathe your coolness on us anytime...especially in those super hot days we all know are fastly approaching. But would you be so kind as to please give me (and my fellow southerners) some indication of how long you plan to stick around? I mean, like...should I go buy the kid another coat?
Sincerely,
The Cold Momma
(who is slightly embarrassed)
I love you. I really do. As a girl from Houston, who has never (and will never) get used to the scorching, suffocating heat of the summer, I long for you often. I vowed long ago to never complain about those days when you are fiercer than normal, even when everyone else is, because I would be devastated if you ever took offense and chose to not come around anymore. I so appreciate you and all that you do for my comfort.
But I need to be honest with you today. I'm struggling. I've caught myself several times in the last few days feeling a complaint rise up within me.
You see...yes. It does have a little to do with the fact that you have graced us Houstonians with slightly more than our normal share of wintery weather. We're usually consider ourselves lucky if we have one snow day in 2 or 3 years! But we've had several "ice" days in the last month.
(As a side note and suggestion: I think more people down here would be more welcoming of your presence if you would simply offer just a little bit more of the white stuff along with the frigid temps. It's almost as if you get our hopes up and then just decide at the last minute to play a dirty trick on us. Or at least share the wealth. When our neighbors to the north and west get several actual days of the flurries, it kinda hurts our feeling when all you give is dangerous roads. Just sayin'.)
But here's the real deal. My recent spiral into dissatisfaction with you comes more-so with the lack of sufficient wardrobe. Yes, for me. I'm limited in my cold-weather clothing.
But honestly? For my child.
He's healthy and he's growing like he should and his pants are becoming more and more awkwardly too short every time I put them on him. I cringe. He could care less. And his father doesn't see a difference. But Mommy cares.
But it's not just the pants. It's not even the few long-sleeved shirts he has that are already causing my precious, innocent (*ahem*), little boy to be one who lacks modesty. (He does have a cute, little belly, though. That could be filed under #normalkidproblems. Every kid has that recurring issue of the high-waters. It's called "growing up" and it's something we parents (typically) greatly encourage.
The real issue and struggle I have is the child's coat. To the naked eye, it fits. Sure. But Mommy knows a secret. (*it's two sizes too small*) I chose not to invest in another coat for him because how many really cold days are we gonna have anyway? Yeah. So that's where I am.
See, Winter, my friend. I would never (and will never) ask you to leave. I want you to know that you are always welcome to breathe your coolness on us anytime...especially in those super hot days we all know are fastly approaching. But would you be so kind as to please give me (and my fellow southerners) some indication of how long you plan to stick around? I mean, like...should I go buy the kid another coat?
Sincerely,
The Cold Momma
(who is slightly embarrassed)
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