Part 2: The Road to a Choice

This post is a continuation of a previous post.  To read Part 1 click HERE.

~

Some of this isn't super relevant to Charlotte's birth story but for journaling purposes bear with me.

When Abby was about 9 months old I began to start thinking about how long I wanted to wait before getting pregnant again.  Our original plan was to space our kids about two years apart.  When we were engaged Bud and I had talked about wanting between 4 to 6 kids but due to the fact that we met and got married a little later than we both would have liked we knew that age was going to be a factor.  So we figured if we spaced them two years apart that we could have four by the time I was 38 and avoid getting too close to 40.  Even though many people have children at this age the fact is that there are increased health risks, infertility possibilities and as silly as it may sound I don't want to be too old to enjoy my grandchildren when the time comes.  But because my experience with Abby was so difficult and I was so afraid of it happening again I originally thought I'd want to wait a little longer to allow my body more time to heal.  But about a month or so later I began to feel that the timing was right and we decided to put things in Heavenly Father's hands and move forward.  It wasn't long after that I discovered that I was pregnant again.

The first three months are kind of a blur.  I was quite a bit sicker than I remembered being with Abby and struggled to stay active since I had that "I've been on the tea cups way too many times" feeling throughout most of the day.  Fortunately we were living with my in-laws at the time and so was Bud's sister Jackie so Abby had a cousin to play with during the day and Jackie (who was 6 months pregnant at the time) and I took turns taking naps and trying to keep the kids busy.  In November Abby and I traveled to UT to visit my family.  By this time most of the nausea had worn off but I was still a little wary of flying for fear of hitting bad turbulence which is common when flying into Salt Lake City.  Unfortunately my fears were realized and the last 15 minutes before landing were a nightmare.  At first I thought I'd be able to handle it but right before landing it got really bad.  Abby was squirming in my lap and I was trying to keep her from kicking the person next to me.  I felt so nauseous I thought for sure I was going to throw up, which is something I've never done while being pregnant (I know crazy right?) but I wasn't about to let that happen while stuck on an airplane with a toddler on my lap crammed next to a bunch of strangers.  I was fighting the urge so bad that I started sweating like crazy trying to hold it in.  To make matters worse my air vent was stuck and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't adjust it to blow on me to give me some relief.  So instead I held Abby tight, closed my eyes, did some deep Lamaze style breathing and prayed for mercy.  Fortunately my prayers were answered.  But I was so exhausted from the experience that when we got to the gate I was shaking.  Of course I had decided not to bring a stroller because my mom already had one and so I had to carry Abby to baggage claim.  But I didn't make it more than 50 feet from the door before I had to sit down.  I rested for a second, said another little prayer and continued to make my way down.  Luckily our gate was really close and my mom was standing there when we came out.  I just about cried when I saw her standing there and practically threw Abby into her arms.  It took me almost two hours to fully recover from the experience and you better believe I will never forget it.  We had a great trip and then drove back to CA with my parents to celebrate Thanksgiving with Bud and my grandparents.  Unfortunately Abby got croup on our way home and this seemed to be the catalyst for bad health for me for the next few months.

At the end of November I got a Bad sinus infection which lasted almost two weeks and completely knocked me out.  In December right after Christmas we all had some crazy flu bug that hit us like a freight train and swept through the entire household and even some of the extended family.  Sometime at the beginning of the year I caught some type of pneumonia and coughed so much I thought I'd never be able to sing again.  And toward the end of my pregnancy I got the flu again.  The best part of all of this was that because Bud's transfer to the CA union took so long we were without health insurance from August to January.  Thank heavens for Bud's uncle Donald who is a doctor who was willing to see me and give me some prescriptions or I would have been in bad shape.  But this also meant that I wasn't able to have my first pre-natal check up until I was about four months pregnant.  I was really nervous about not knowing how the baby was doing but I just kept telling myself that if something was wrong there would be nothing that could be done this early in the pregnancy anyway and that I just had to trust that everything would be ok.  At the beginning of January I was finally able to have my first check up.  I received a referral to a doctor from my sister-in-law Kristalyne and was anxious to meet him and discuss my previous experience with Abby and how we might possibly avoid it this time.  I had a really good feeling about this doctor as my sister-in-law indicated that he had a small private practice of his own and that he made it his practice to deliver all babies whenever possible regardless of the day and time they arrived.  It always made me nervous to think that a random doctor that I didn't know might possibly deliver my baby after having built a relationship of trust with someone else so this was very comforting especially given my history.

Bud and I went to the appointment together and were excited to see our baby for the first time.  Since I was almost 4 months pregnant we knew that we would see a tiny little person moving instead of just a little dot on the screen and maybe just maybe find out what we were going to have.  The doctor performed the routine exam and then did the ultrasound.  The heartbeat was there and the baby was moving and growing perfectly, but he told us that we wouldn't find out the gender until later that month when he'd send us for a detailed ultrasound.  I was excited and happy to see and hear that the baby was doing well.

 On my patient form I had indicated the complications that occurred when I had Abby and he said that he wanted to discuss them further and asked me to get dressed and meet him across the hall.  When we met with him he indicated even though I had healed very well that he could tell that there had been significant trauma during Abby's delivery.  I will spare you the details but basically some muscles had been damaged in sensitive areas and would never be the same again.  I asked him why he thought I tore so severely and he said it was impossible to know because there are so many factors involved and every person is so different, not to mention the fact that he wasn't there.  I asked him what the risks were of tearing that severely again and again he told me it was hard to know.  He said in his experience people most people who tore severely the first time tore only a little or not at all the second time but that there were cases where it happened again and sometimes worse.  It was at this point that he said, Many of my colleagues would disagree with me but I feel very strongly in cases like these that I should offer my patients the option of having a C-section.  It is your body and I feel that you should be able to weigh the pros and cons and make the decision yourself.  I will not push you into anything that you do not want I just want to give you a choice."  He knew that I had endured a very difficult recovery and told me that I was perfectly capable of delivering vaginally again but that no matter what he did to prevent tearing there were obviously no guarantees that it wouldn't happen.  My heart sank.  I guess I expected him to tell me that this time would be a breeze and that there would be no complications.  But the reality was he couldn't do that and although I was extremely grateful that he cared enough about me to give me a choice I just didn't know what to do.  I never expected to be confronted with this decision and I didn't know how I felt about electing to have major surgery.  I knew that there would be risks either way and I wanted to do what was right.  And So I spent the next few months doing research, talking to friends and family who had been in my situation and praying for guidance and direction.  Everyone had different opinions, everyone wanted what was best for me but no one could make the decision for me and that was the hardest part.

To be continued...