I was really moved by Jenna Von Oy’s birth story she posted on her People.com blog Monday. While her baby was born at 37 weeks, she captured the feelings of a birth plan gone awry, dealing with pregnancy complications, and dealing with being separated from your baby in those first precious hours after birth so well. I was in tears remembering the first days of my son’s birth and the delay we had in touching or holding him.
From the early days of my pregnancy, I knew I had dealt with some spotting issues and low end normal progesterone levels as well as high blood pressure controlled with meds and then finally in early 2nd tri, gestational diabetes. I had planned early on for possible bed rest. I scheduled my birth class for January even though I was due in April. All the other moms in my class were due in February or early March. I scheduled my baby shower for early February. I had a feeling as the weeks crept by one of my complications was going to cause the dreaded boredom of bedrest.
I was so tired all the time, and I never felt the healthy vitality that some women seem to have during pregnancy. I never felt like I glowed.
I have so much guilt from the weekend before Drake’s early Monday birth. I went out to dinner and to an event with my girl friends on Friday night. I washed the walls of our office (severe nesting apparently) on Saturday. I went over and watched movies with a friend on Sunday. I felt restless during that final weekend of my pregnancy, but I never felt like I was in LABOR.
I will never forget the feeling of my water breaking. It felt like it should have been the audible pop of a champagne bottle being uncorked. *POP*
And my world changed. My new normal was starting before I even realized fully what would happen.
I pretty much knew I could possibly have to have a c-section. At my first meeting with my perinatologist after the diabetes diagnosis, he warned me that an induction would be scheduled for 38 weeks no matter what. Premature birth never entered my radar.
I was wheeled by Drake’s isolette in the NICU on my way from recovery to my room. I didn’t get to touch him until the next day. Or hold him until another 4 days had passed.
My first meltdown occurred when my husband and some of the grandparents went to visit Drake on the 2nd day while I pumped milk. I heard the words something is wrong with his foot and I lost it. I was sore, tired, emotionally battered and now something was WRONG with my infant I hadn’t held yet, and I wasn’t the first to even HEAR about it.