That Which I Cannot Change

You know when you're a little kid and you imagine Disneyland and then you go to Disneyland for the first time and it's super hot and the lines are long and the rides are short and the gobs of other kids make it so you never even see Mickey Mouse? That's kind of how I'm feeling right now. Despite Hollywood and daytime TV, I've always pictured birth as this calm, serene experience, where a mother and a father work hard together to bring their creation into the world and then bask in that just-born glow for hours after as a party of 3. Maybe it was that first experience of birth when I was practically a baby myself and my mother birthed my little brother in the comfort of our home. Or maybe it's just my natural aversion to medical intervention and the "big business" mentality of American health care - I'm not sure. I have been immeasurably blessed with two children whose births were traumatic at best. I've (mostly) reconciled those experiences with the satisfaction of the outcome and the belief that it was the only way possible. Matt and I have wrestled for years with whether we'd have more children or not. There were the obvious issues and fears but there was one thing I couldn't ignore. I wanted my natural birth. I wanted it like a part of me that was lost but still meant to be. I wanted it like my life would never be complete without it. I want it still. Even with all the shock of finding out I was pregnant this time, there was one little thing humming in my mind; this time I can have it, this time it'll happen. Almost immediately I started researching the success rates of vaginal births after two cesarean sections. I looked at the risks, success rates of the hospitals and providers who were supportive. I looked at everything - I felt confident. My perinatologist had agreed to a trial of labor while I was pregnant with Ethan, but her disapproval was written all over her face. I knew I couldn't depend on her support this time. For 4 months I called and emailed various midwives and birthing centers in my area, looking for someone who would agree to oversee my birth. It was the last thing I had expected when I found that no one would. Politics have made their way into the natural birth world in Oregon and it's left the community being very selective about VBAC's. My high risk birth is not one that anyone is willing to touch...though I've been wished lots of luck - insert slew of unhappy words here - . Desperation has had me consider an unassisted home birth, but without my husband's support, I know it isn't a true option. I'd love to bag on my husband not standing by my side for something I want so badly, but I can't blame him for his fear or for believing what most medically dependent Americans believe...he's only thinking about what he feels is best for us. And so, these last weeks, I've held onto a string of hope that my doctor would offer another trial of labor for this birth. And now - that's gone too. We talked today about my plans to have my tubes tied post birth. She was silent for a moment as she reviewed my chart and then turned to me and said "Well, you'll definitely be having a c-section, so we'll just have that done during the procedure". And then she repeated it again, just for good measure. Some sort of clinical insanity or motherly desperation in my head still has be believing that somehow I'll get the birth I want, but my rational side is working hard to get me to accept what is most certainly the inevitable. It's like the loss of something dear. Not quite as bad as when my favorite dog Sam died, but worse than when my beloved wallet of 10 years was destroyed by my current dog Allie. It's like when you're 5 years old and you find out you're too short to ride Space Mountain. Devastating. I've been asked several times why I want this so badly, and it's truly hard to explain to someone who doesn't want it too. Thinking about the surgical removal of my baby from my womb...again, is enough to push my hormonal state of mind over the edge. So, I hope this little guy hangs out for a while, mommy needs some time to reconcile dreams with reality; some time to accept that which I cannot change.