If you want to experience the madness first-hand, check out these blogs.

This is my sister’s fourth child, fourth girl, fourth cesarean birth.  The first was an emergency surgery as was the second (after attempting a VBAC), and the third and fourth were electives.  Her third elective ended up being a bit of a nightmarish event.  My sister believes the surgery was scheduled too soon and that her daughter was not ready to be born.  She had serious difficulties establishing a good nursing relationship (she was no amateur to nursing) and was left feeling like not only her body had failed her again but that she had not been firm enough to stand her ground when the doctors scheduled the surgery earlier than she felt comfortable with.

This time, things were VERY different.  She was scheduled on her due date–she told her OB she would not show up if he scheduled it earlier.  The doctor let her hold the baby for an hour immediately after the birth while they sticthed her up (she was able to nurse baby in the operation room) .  She was able to bond with her daughter before they whisked her away (which is usually the way with surgical births).  I spoke to her briefly tonight but I could tell through her tired voice that she felt much more empowered and happy with this birth than with any other she has had before.  I am so happy for her–that her last birthing experince–albeit not the kind we all profoundly desire–ended up being her most empowering.

Here I am waiting for my own turn.  Will I succeed my own VBAC?  If not, will I be able to look past my disappointment and do my best to feel empowered nonetheless with a surgical birth?  I am trying not to have high hopes but it is hard not to when I know this will be my last attempt at a vaginal birth.  My sister has always been a wonderful role model for me and I find her acheivements in life inspiring–I hope if I do have to go down the same path as her, I will find the strength to accept it as the outcome that was meant to be.

Welcome to the world Juliette!

On a much uglier note, I read about how REALLY CRAZY some people can get when it comes to Christmas shopping.  I always wondered why they called it “Black Friday” in the US (apparently it is related to when retailers are in the black in terms of profit as opposed to red), but truly this year, the term “Black Friday” was truly a horrible dark day!  A Walmart employee was trampled to death by shoppers, and two losers shot themselves inside a Toys’R'Us in California.  People, I know there is an economic downturn, but this is just beyond comprehension.  What can you get at WalMart on Black Friday that is worth stepping on a person to get to?  I mean honestly, if you step on something (like a person), wouldn’t you stop and say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crush your spleen, here let me help you get up,” rather than keep on trucking toward that 80% off item before the next lady does?  It’s shameful and scary, but sadly so unsurprising.  And of course, it had to happen at a “big bad WalMart”.  I always knew those stores were evil.

Living in Quebec means I also have to deal with a VERY BORING and UNINSPIRING provincial election as well.  Does anyone feel sorry for me yet.  The only good reason to have this baby late is that I might find myself pushing out a baby on December 8th rather than standing in line to vote for an election that will change nothing.

Noah, the snack-a-holic

I can understand that toddlers have small stomachs that need to filled more often, but someone explain to me how my 2-year old son needs to eat constantly from the time he wakes up to the time he goes to bed?  He is a slim lad–tall and broad–but slim!  He definietly has not inherited his metabolism from me and at times I wish inherited traits could work the other way around too.  Like I could inherit his metabolism and eat all day too.  Basically, an hour after he has had a big breakfast, he wants “cereal”, or a “banana”, or an “apple” or a piece of “birthday cake”!  Once that is done, he wants “fish” (the cheesy kind), or anything else his eyes happen to fall on that looks edible!  The only time he doesn’t want to eat is when he is sleeping and I wouldn’t be surprised if didn’t spend most of his time sleeping dreaming of snacks.

Problem is, I feel partly responsible.  You see, from a young age, I always took snacks with me wherever we went.  It kept him happy while I did groceries, content while we drove to visit friends or family and basically quiet and well-behaved when I needed him to be.  Now, we cannot go 2 minutes in the car without him “demanding” snacks or shopping without him carrying his little container of fish crackers or cheerios.  I created a snack monster!

Please folks, tell me my son is not the only one.  My mother-in-law, who raised 3 active boys, says it only gets worse with time.  She used to have to buy 20 loaves of bread a week to keep her sons fed!  With the price of food nowadays, I might have to win the lottery if I have another boy.

In any case, what I really want for my birthday folks is to meet my baby.  I told him last night that it would be the best birthday gift ever, but I think this baby has a mind of its own and probably doesn’t want to share his birthday with famous people like Tina Turner or Charles Shulz.  After all, Jimi Hendrix and Bruce Lee were born on the 27th, Mark Twain and Ben Stiller were born on the 30th, or maybe wait until the official due date (Dec. 4th) to share a birthday with Jeff Bridges and Marisa Tomei.  Or hey, why not come late and be born on the same day as Tom Waits and Larry Bird?

Whatever this little one decides, let it be known that I was fully ready to receive on this day!

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PS:  To MommyKnows, the answer to your question is: Today, I feel like Dory (from Finding Nemo): “Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming!”.  My version: “Just keep hauling, hauling, hauling”.  As for the picture, the 4th picture in the 4th folder is one of my husband and son taking a bath (and if I post that one I risk not getting flowers tonight), so I’ll post the next one which is of the birthday cake I made for my son’s 2nd birthday in August (in keeping with the apparent birthday theme today).  Your exercise also made me realize how I need to reorganize and clean up my photos folders. Uggh.

Noah

I’ll start from the beginning.  My sisters, of which I have 3, have had a total of 7 children.  They have all been born via c-sections–5 emergency, 2 electives (including 1 attempted VBAC-vaginal birth after c-section).  So when I got pregnant with my son two years ago, I was determined to beat the odds.  I researched and read so much about birthing I felt I knew more about the process (at least the natural birthing process) than most health care professionals.  It was sick.  I became rather obsessed with my goal to have a vaginal birth.  I firmly believed (and still do) that my body would not grow a baby that couldn’t be birthed naturally–it made no biological sense to have it otherwise (I am part biologist in training).  After 32 hours of natural labour with a (less-than-ideal) doula by my side and my hero husband in one of the most progressive hospitals in Montreal–my son was born via a cesarean.  In short, I was devastated.  I felt like a failure of a woman.

Fast forward two years and I am pregnant again.  This time, I researched into VBACs.  Not quite as obsessive this time, but almost.  Problem is, things in my life aren’t making the planning easy.  I manage to find care with a VBAC-supportive birthing centre in Montreal (which I am guessing is my best bet at success), but my husband and I have to move to Ottawa for his work midway through the pregnancy.  I am transferred to a birthing centre here.  At first, they seem über supportive of my efforts.  But then my belly starts growing REAL FAST and consistently measures much larger than “normal”.  (It was the exact same story with my first son).  At first the midwife appears to not be too concerned.  Then, out of nowhere, I get a call from her.  They are transferring me to the care of an OB at the local puppy mill…I mean hospital.  WHAT?  I am VERY angry.  I feel deceived.  They have no real medical reason other than I am measuring larger than my expected due date.  They don’t even want to wait for the ultrasound results.  Basically, I am being thrown to the lions and I know exactly where this is heading.

So, for the last few weeks of my pregnancy, I have been under the care of an OB at the hospital.  The difference in care is like night and day.  I have to wait hours to finally see the OB when I have an appointment.  She is courteous but not friendly.  Every time I see her she asks me the same questions as though she has never seen me before.  It goes something like this:

OB:  So, you are 3- weeks pregnant.  I see here you have had a previous section but want to attempt a VBAC this time?

ME: That’s correct.

OB: You are aware of the risks?

ME: Umm…yes.

OB: Okay, well, here is your appointment slip for next week unless you go into labour before then (little smile).

–OB exits–

So, this isn’t the most supportive place in the world to have a VBAC.  I am glad I have done my own research on the risks and benefits of vaginal births after c-sections because I certainly would not be getting any kind of valid information from this woman whose profession is to help women give birth.  I am also not too concerned about her attitude because I know I will probably not even get to see a doctor during my labour–they usually show up about 5 minutes before the baby is ready to be pushed out.  My success, in terms of external support, depends mainly on the nurses who will be monitoring the labour and relaying information back to the OB.  They are the ones that count and sadly, I will have no idea who they are, what their attitude is toward natural birthing and how supportive they are of helping a woman have a vaginal birth after a cesarean.  It’s like playing birthing roulette.

If I was brave, I would attempt a home birth.  Alas, I am not.  If I was totally scared to fail, I would opt for an elective.  Alas, I am not.  I am somewhere in between.  I am trying not to lose faith in my body.   Wherever this birthing journey leads me, I will know that I will have tried everything in my power to achieve my goal.  I am doing all I can to define my own success.  At this point, I feel it is the only thing left within my control.