When I walked in the door last tonight, Husband greeted me with a warm embrace because he knew I had been crying.
I needed a hug.
My weekly OB appointment was yesterday. It was originally scheduled Monday but Icemageddon hit our area and I’m smart enough to stay off icy roads. Assuming it was a routine check-up, I convinced Husband to go to work because I was perfectly fine going alone … and provided me some time to leisurely stroll through the aisles of Kohls and Home Goods. Unfortunately, I was not prepared for the conversation that occurred between me, my doctor and the lead nurse. My emotions are all over the place, and I will look back on this one day and realize how ridiculous I’m being, but it seems as if my improved health, perfect blood pressure, and weight loss are biting me in the ass. Since I have no health issues and Kamden’s growth is perfect normal, my doctor asked: Do you want to schedule an induction on Tuesday, December 17?
Granted, I’m the most indecisive person in the world, but, no, I don’t want to schedule an induction. I don’t want Kamden born on my birthday either.
But it’s not about my birthday anymore.
My parents are leaving Kentucky around 9:00am on Wednesday, December 18 and driving to Texas. There is nothing I want more than for them to be at the hospital when Kamden is born. I don’t want this to sound like I’m dismissing the rest of our family, as I love them all very much, but Kamden will be my parent’s first — and only — grandchild. As soon as I recover from childbirth, I’m having surgery to remove my gallbladder and tie my tubes. This is one-and-done in the baby department. For my in-laws, Kamden will be their fourth grandchild. I want our parents in the waiting room. I want Husband to introduce Kamden to his grandparents. I want our birth photographer to capture it all.
When I said no to being induced on the 17th, I also had to accept that my doctor may not be available to deliver Kamden. When she said this, I started crying again. The attentive, compassionate doctor wiped away my tears and tried to explain but my overwhelmed, under-prepared, very emotional brain didn’t comprehend much. Something about the hospital allows each doctor (or office practice) a couple of days to “reserve spots” in order to schedule inductions, but these “appointments” are not available on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. Kamden’s estimated due date is Sunday, December 22. Without a scheduled induction, nobody knows the day or hour Kamden will make his entrance into the world. My perfectly scripted birth plan goes something like this: Mom and Dad get to our house on the evening of Wednesday, December 18, my water breaks on the 19th, I get an epidural, Kamden is born on the 20th, he’s healthy and happy, and we spend Christmas at home. Sounds reasonable, right? Our situation is further complicated by the time of year (holidays-smolidays, geeesh) and it seems as if every pregnant woman in DFW is due in the next few days/week and wants Dr. W to deliver their baby. I’m going to be a spoiled brat for a moment and scream and yell and throw a tantrum. WHAT ABOUT ME? I’m being very selfish, not only towards the other pregnant ladies but to the medical folks who have to work on/near Christmas because Husband and I had sex in March and made a baby. Technically speaking, we didn’t actually PLAN this pregnancy, but Divine Intervention did and we’re grateful.
So here I sit facing the reality that my parent’s only child might go into labor and deliver their only grandchild before they arrive in Texas and the doctor I’ve seen for more than eight years — and trust infinitely — may not deliver said child. My new big, scary fears are the anesthesiologist paralyzing me for life because he/she is hungover from a Christmas party and the on-call doctor looks like a psycho truck-driver, uses an ice pick to break my water, and extracts Kamden from my womb with a pair of calf pullers borrowed from a nearby cattle ranch. If there is anything worse than worst case scenario, this could be it.
Now that I’ve had some time to cry, talk to Mom, process the situation, and get a hug from Husband, I think I’ll call the doctor’s office later today and speak with the nurse again. Obviously I have questions now that my brain couldn’t create yesterday.
On a much more positive note, I met with Kamden’s pediatrician after my wrecking-ball OB appointment yesterday and it went really, really well. Doctor J came highly recommended from my OB, the nurses at Methodist Hospital in Mansfield, friends whose children are patients of his, and employees of Cook’s Children’s Hospital. He and his staff made me feel incredibly at ease, despite my laundry list of questions and concerns, and praised my research on breastfeeding and vaccinations and Husband’s unwavering support for it all. I appreciated his humility when he learned the commute required from us. Yes, there are pediatricians located near our home, but I’m willing to drive for quality care, compassionate medical experts, and be connected to the best children’s hospital in Fort Worth. Besides, I used to drive four hours (round-trip) from my college apartment to Doctor W’s office (OB/Gyn) because I insisted on having a female doctor. Some things are non-negotiable, one of them being my son’s pediatric care and the other is my lady business. Which takes me right back to our previous conversation about strangers with ice picks and calf-pullers.
At least my hospital bags are packed. And I bought a pajama set with a button-down top (compatible for nursing) and matching bottoms. I’ve wanted old-man pajamas for a while, but couldn’t find anything I liked or priced reasonably. This cute and comfortable striped ensemble cost just $22 on Black Friday (regular price $55), plus free shipping!
Pajama Set // Lane Bryant