Wow...I can't believe I am about to write this post. There are so many things I want to remember about the last couple of weeks. Amazing things. Scary things. Beautiful things. Frustrating things. And every single one of them, completely life changing.
At 39 weeks I was still at 1 cm and 50% effaced. That. Is. It. Despite having contractions for three weeks straight, our sweet Lilah Bear was just not ready to meet the world. And after waiting for months to meet her, Mommy was getting a little anxious. After much prayer, research and talks with some of those dearest to me, I was determined to have a VBAC. Given the circumstances for which Soph was delivered via c-section (breech and IUGR), the percentage of success was estimated to be about 80%. So then, why wasn't it working???
I was sooooooo frustrated. If you know me at all, once I set my mind to something, it is not that easy for me to adjust. If you tell me I can't do something, it makes me that much more determined to prove you wrong. But this was something I couldn't control. I couldn't fix it. I couldn't make it all better. I couldn't "fix" my body to make myself dilate.
There was even a moment following the 39 week appointment, after a failed attempt to strip my membranes, that I was ready to give up. Just ready to throw in the towel and accept that I was going to deliver via c-section. There was a part of me who wanted to call my doctor and just move up the c-section date. But I couldn't. I didn't want to rush my baby. I didn't want to rush the Lord. And I most certainly didn't want to regret my decision later on ~ I mean it's not like you get a redo on a choice like that!
So I did what any normal, hormonal, huge pregnant Mommy would do...I cried and cried and cried some more. I grieved a dream ~ a dream of knowing what it's like to deliver my child vaginally, to hold her immediately, to not have to spend the first several hours of her life separated from my precious baby...the one person that in ten months I had never been away from for one second.
And then I attempted to pick myself back up. I prayed as best as I could for peace and understanding. I thanked God for the precious gift growing inside me...a healthy, beautiful baby girl. And I was honest...I told Him I was disappointed, confused and heart broken. But also that I trusted Him and would try to be patient, something I realize I'm not all that good at.
I say all of that and then for the sake of total honesty, I set about spending any free moment researching ways to help myself dilate and to get labor started. I scheduled a prenatal massage for the next day, a gift from a dear and precious friend. I researched acupuncture, reflexology, exercise balls and anything else the all-knowing Google could offer me. And the next few days went a little like this...
Thursday, June 7th ~ Babysat my two precious nieces; Mexican for lunch; Prenatal massage #1
Friday, June 8th ~ Called the doctor to schedule a second membrane stripping attempt for Monday
Saturday, June 9th ~ Julian's birthday party; Foot reflexology; Dinner with friends
Sunday, June 10th ~ Prenatal massage #2; Purchase and use of exercise ball; Mexican for dinner
Monday, June 11th ~ Successful attempt at membrane stripping; Mexican for lunch; More exercise ball
Tuesday, June 12th ~ Officially in LABOR!
Ok, granted...I have no idea if any of the above did anything whatsoever. Cause truth be told, the Lord had it all worked out anyway. This was just my measly attempt at making myself feel like I was actually doing something. And I'm sure in my crazy attempts, I gave Him a few good laughs along the way :)
Either way (at least in hindsight) I could care less! Why? Because at the end of the day, it didn't matter how my sweet girl entered this world ~ she was perfect, beautiful and has completely captured my heart.
And it's a good thing it didn't matter in the end because labor and delivery certainly did not work out exactly how I had it planned in my head...
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