13 days to go…

Well, friends. We are 13 days away from baby day.

We go to the hospital for the planned C-section on the 27th unless labor progresses on its own before then.

We are under two weeks away.

I say ‘we’ although it feels more like ‘I.’

Ya know… I carried this baby. I tore my body up. I suffered and puked and cried and endured the pregnancy on my own. Somehow it still feels selfish to take all the credit. I’m conflicted, however, because a cesarean is no joke and I’m the one going under the knife. To be honest, I’m scared to death to do it again, but I understand it’s something I’ve got to do. I’ve expressed my worry to my fiancé and he is very supportive and doing his best to understand, but in the back of my mind I still know that after all, it’s me that is ultimately going through this. Not him. He is in a way – but not really.

So yeah, I’m anxious and worried and scared.

So send good vibes and wish us luck on a healthy remaining two weeks!!! Because I’m doing my best to try to keep my mind at bay, but it’s been a struggle and every day that we get closer is another day closer to me freaking out!

I can do this. Almost there.

September Blogging Challenge: Day 10

A Day in Your Life

I’m going to choose one of the best days in my life so far… the day my daughter was born!

January 5th, 2019

My daughter was measuring almost 10 pounds, and with my petite statute of 5’4, my OB warmed me that a vaginal delivery could be dangerous as my daughter would probably get stuck on my hips. So my fiancée and I decided to have an elective cesarean birth.

We got up at 4am, went to the hospital, and anxiously awaited for the time to come.

1:56pm. I was in labor from about 6am until she was born and it was a long, exhausting day full of emotion, anxiety, and fear. I was induced on a Saturday and they don’t normally do elective procedures on the weekend due to the shortage of anesthesiologists that work on Saturdays, but we were able to get one come down for Della’s delivery.

She came and our lives have been changed for the better ever since.

Our beautiful Della Rae.

Oh, how she’s changed.

Oh, the obstacles we’ve conquered since she’s been in our lives.

Oh, how her beauty and spunk has shaken our world up.

I love her to pieces and I can’t imagine a life without her.

The Night Before Her Birth

Until you’ve experienced it, childbirth is a scary thing to think about. For a long time, it was at the very TOP of my list of biggest fears. I didn’t have any experiences to compare the most painful and emotional thing that I was ever going to put myself through, so the thought of becoming a mom was absolutely terrifying for me. There is no moment in your life that will prepare you for motherhood. It’s something you just have to dive into, even if you’re scared shitless and don’t have a clue what to expect.

My daughter was measuring two weeks ahead and in the 99 percentile from the very first ultrasound. As my due date got closer and my belly got bigger, our concerns became about the method of delivery. I am 5’3” (on a good day) and my hips are pretty narrow. My doctor was worried about delivering vaginally because she may have gotten stuck on the way out, resulting in a traumatizing delivery or emergency c-section. He left the decision up to me: Did I want to try a vaginal delivery and risk her getting stuck? Or did I want to go ahead and schedule a c-section and avoid the trauma?

After a lot of deliberation and weighing the options carefully, I decided to have the c-section.

With that decision came a lot of emotion. For some reason, people have this invalid perception that having a baby cut from your womb is “the easy way out.” I am here to tell you that it is without a doubt, not an easier way to give birth. Any method of delivery is beautiful, worthy, courageous, and just plain hard.

Seven layers of flesh are cut during a c-section.

The recovery time is much slower than that of a vaginal birth.

You are awake the entire time, knowing that your insides are open and laid out behind the sheet in front of you.

I didn’t get to hold my baby until almost an hour after she was born.

Five months later and I still can’t feel nearly half of my abdomen when I touch it.

I went in to be induced at 39 weeks, on January 5, 2019. I was told to be at the hospital by 6am. The night before I knew I had to be there, I laid in bed with my mind spinning and imagining what I was going to be experiencing in just a few short hours.

I don’t think I even blinked the entire night.

Being induced and knowing that it is most likely going to result in a c-section is perhaps one of the most nerve-wracking things I’ve ever gone through. I laid there that night and thought about how once I left the house, I would not return until the human that I had been housing inside of me for the last nine months was introduced to the outside world. I worried about how I would be as a first-time mom. I watched videos of c-sections and scared myself even more (Still cool though – I’m a science nerd). I was more scared the night before we went to the hospital than I was the entire nine months prior combined.

Laying in bed with my fiancé the night before we went to the hospital

Four o’clock came fast. After what seemed like year-long pregnancy, it was finally time to get up, grab my bags, and go meet my baby girl for the very first time.

I never knew excitement and terror could co-exist so charmingly.