When I was 35 weeks pregnant with Zachary, my first child, I started getting Braxton Hicks contractions every night. They intensified each night, until one day, two weeks later, I found myself in Labor and Delivery wondering aloud whether the anesthesiologist was some kind of a sadist for taking so long to show up and give me an epidural.
My labor was not all that long, 14 or 15 hours in total. My delivery, however, was a disaster. Despite all the rumors that an epidural makes delivery take longer because the woman cannot feel to push, I was apparently an excellent pusher. The OB and the nurses were pretty damned impressed, in fact, with how well I pushed. Especially given that I pushed for three and a half goddamned hours. The suctioned, they episiotomized, and then they finally gave up. Although the tip of Zachary’s head was coming out with every push, the rest of that scrawny little body was staying inside of me.
The verdict? My pelvis was too small for a baby to get through. They pushed him back in and wheeled me down the hall for a Cesarean section. He came out purple and battered from all that time in the birth canal, and I was fortunate enough to emerge with two sets of scars.
So, it was pretty easy to determine that my second child would be delivered by planned c-section. At 38 weeks, we calmly went to the hospital, got me some pain control, and the doctor reopened the scar.
We had a c-section scheduled for this third baby for 39 weeks. That may seem foolish, waiting so long, but I was hoping to avoid major abdominal surgery prior to my 35 birthday, given that my mother died before her 35th. So, we scheduled it for the 26th of September, one day after my birthday and one week before my due date.
And then I realized that meant I would be coming home from the hospital on Rosh Hashanah, which is even more inconvenient when you consider that my kids go to a Jewish preschool that closes for every single holiday. So, we pushed it off.
I am scheduled for a c-section on October 3. That also happens to be my due date. It would be very convenient if I actually had the baby that day. And maybe I will. Every now and then, life turns out as we have planned it.
I am having contractions every night, getting more intense and more regular each day. I get them all day long, too, but the painful, I-can’t-talk ones are in the evening. I have notes typed up, people on call, and a bag out (although not packed). Chances are, this baby ain’t waiting for October 3. Babies have a tendency to like to do things their way.
While I cannot imagine a more fitting day than today for bringing a new life into the world, I just hope she waits until this afternoon. I am planning on waxing my legs today.