“So what we’re gonna do is go in through your nose, reach all the way down, and pull the baby out back through your nose. And we can schedule you for this procedure tomorrow,” the doctor says this all with a smooth voice.
“Okay, you’re going to pull the baby out through my nose, but you’re saying that if you do this I would be no longer pregnant tomorrow,” the very pregnant lady asks.
“Yes,” the doctor assures.
“Okay, let’s do it,” she agrees.
I think this is how so many inductions happen. I am 36 weeks pregnant. This baby is a lot bigger than Emma. I am so uncomfortable and so large that even washing dishes feels like a monumental physical feat.
I told someone who has never had children that at this point I would rather be holding the baby in my arms than in my body. Her eyes got really big, like I had said something horrible.
I had another ultrasound this week because I am measuring ‘large for gestational age’ according to the sonographer this baby is 9.2lbs. I feel like a walking freak show. One of those women that you hear about from friends,
“My sister’s friend from college just had a 12lb baby!” A friend whispers in shock, eyes wide, hand over mouth. You picture the women in your head, she’s big, she has a proclivity for overeating, so of course her baby would be huge. Right? Nope, apparently you should just picture me.
Once my midwife saw the results of the ultrasound she started talking about a c-section. For those of you just dialing in: my last delivery was a 40 hour ordeal that ended in a c-section. Turns out the cord was wrapped around Emma’s neck and was keeping her from descending. I have been pretty committed to having a VBAC. To have that empowering feminine experience of pushing a baby out of my body unaided by medicine.
But on Thursday when my midwife said that phrase, ‘c-section,’ I thought,
“I could go for that.” They could just cut this baby out of me. I know what it feels like, I’ve done it before. I was running within a month. When my friends talk about sitz baths and mesh panties I think,
“Maybe this ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Really I was hoping she would announce that this baby is way too big and they would have to cut her out of me tomorrow and I would not have to be pregnant anymore. But they won’t touch me until 39 weeks. They are very well behaved. I did however spend the next 24 hours in a funk, with tears, thinking that I might not be able to have normal childbirth experience, because I had gained too much weight and grew a freakishly large baby. Up until this point I haven’t really felt like there was a correlation between maternal weight gain and size of the baby. They seem to take what they want and get as big as they want.
Several friends I recounted my ‘huge baby’ diagnosis to tsk’d, ‘they don’t know,’ came the response and then a recounting of a huge baby that turned out to be well within legal limits. Hopefully they’re wrong and this baby is more normal than large. I can tell she’s bigger than my first, but my first was, and still is, a peanut. Hopefully regardless of what happens in the delivery room I will be at peace and feel like the right decisions were made. Hopefully at the end of all this I will have a healthy baby girl and a healthy me.