In some ways waiting and ticking off the days really was a pleasure. I reveled my pregnant physique and continued to be quite active with gardening, aqua-fit and evening walks with my mom. In fact with all the walking I was doing it was a surprise I didn't walk this baby right out. Sure tying my shoes became next to impossible, getting up out of chairs and bed became tedious, and the heartburn was sure to attack the moment I lay back; however, besides these few irritants I was very conscious that I was sustaining life and I cherished being so intimately attached. Probably what was most irritating for me was having so many people, even complete strangers, react as if going overdue was absurd and then go on to say, "Go have lots of sex; that's what worked for me." Seriously even a Winners employee told me to go home and have sex. Thanks lady, in case you'd like to know my name is Erin Campbell; is there any other personal unsolicited advice you'd like to bestow upon me? I smiled and I laughed it off. If my baby wasn't in a rush then neither was I.
It was Thursday morning May 2nd that I went in for another non stress test and ultrasound. Since I was only a couple days away from being a full forty-two weeks it was now mandatory to have a consultation with an obstetrician and be informed as to the professional opinion. The non stress test went smoothly, as I knew it would as I could feel my baby girl moving and stretching and I felt no inner alarm. The ultrasound also confirmed a healthy placenta. However, the level of amniotic fluid had dropped. So there I was: first waiting for the obstetrician to make an appearance and second to hear what he had to say. Luke and I waited all morning but our scheduled appointment kept getting bumped. Eventually we were sent for lunch. Finally the obstetrician showed up around 2pm. His professional opinion was that I induce immediately. Plus he informed me that my cervix had yet to dilate which meant I was a sure candidate for a caesarean; later our midwives informed us that he didn't even want to give me that option and had simply wanted to schedule the surgery that day.
I was shocked and taken back. I was also offended; the medical staff didn't even try to mask their opinion that going overdue, especially two weeks overdue, was simply putting the baby at risk. I felt like reminding them that going overdue is actually normal and that studies have proven the safety of going right up to forty-three weeks, otherwise the College of BC Midwives wouldn't support it. I had heard the obstetrician's opinion but I was not about to be pushed around. I insisted that I consult with the midwives before I made any decision. He was not impressed that I dared challenge him. He made it clear that by not taking his advice meant he wouldn't be responsible for any adverse outcomes.
I don't remember exactly when I started to cry. It appeared that my home-birth was slipping away and with it any sort of control that was mine. I was desperately afraid that if I really was induced and admitted to the hospital all my hopes of a natural drug free birth would spiral away and the inevitable cesarean would loom ever larger. I felt paralyzed by fear; sucked into the vortex of the medical realm with the doors to the operating room swung open to the black hole that awaited me. It was too much. It was all I could see and all I could think about. Luke held me; consoling and reminding me that we would see the midwives and take it one step at a time. By the time the nurse came back to inform us that a midwife was waiting for us at their office I had somewhat regained my composure. I still clung to the hope that the medical opinion was overzealous and simply unwilling to see what was normal. Yet, my amniotic fluid had dropped and what did that mean?
Luke and I chose to walk to the midwives' office. Again a small part of me hoped that by some miracle just walking would put me into labour and that all this worry and fuss would be for nothing. It wasn't to be. Our midwife explained that the dropping of the amniotic fluid meant that my body's ability to sustain our baby girl was decreasing. Although there was still an adequate amount of fluid if it dropped any further then there wouldn't be enough for our baby to endure labour. Therefore I had a choice: I could either be induced or I could wait until Monday and go in for more monitoring. However, if my amniotic fluid dropped further then a natural birth would no longer be an option and an emergency c-section would be performed.
The next decision to make was if I was going to be induced would it be that evening or the next morning. That evening meant it would have to be at the Abbotsford Hospital (a half hour drive away) because the midwife on call was already attending a birth there. Or I could get a good night's rest and simply walk down the road and get induced at the Chilliwack Hospital the following morning. Initially Chilliwack seemed so convenient being right down the road; however, Abbotsford was a new facility with brighter, bigger and private rooms - and birthing tubs. I asked the simple question that would determine my choice: which hospital has the lower cesarean rate? As it turns out the obstetrician that I consulted with at the Chilliwack Hospital, his actual name I cannot recall although he has the nickname Dr. Doom and Gloom and Luke later referred to him as Dr. Cut Me Up, would be the O.B. on call that weekend, and of the O.B.s his cesarean rate was the highest. So, while the midwives would fight tooth and nail for whatever decisions I made, I had to be aware that not only would I not have his support, but I would be pressured into giving up and letting him do what he does best: operate. Yet, at the Abbotsford Hospital the midwives were all highly respected and as long as there was hope and progress the entire staff, doctors and nurses alike, would exhaust all options supporting a vaginal delivery. That was all I needed to hear.
It was four o'clock, it had been a long day and there was a lot of information to absorb; Luke and I decided to walk home and discuss it. Ultimately, while I could've waited the weekend the chance I wouldn't be able to have a vaginal birth, and thus wouldn't be able to go through the act of labour, was the determining factor. While this meant I had to give up my home birth at least this way I was assured the opportunity of having as normal a birth as possible. So with the information we had Luke and I decided that an induction that evening at the Abbotsford Hospital would be best. I made the phone call and an appointment for five-thirty was made. Our baby girl's presence was eminent.
It was Thursday morning May 2nd that I went in for another non stress test and ultrasound. Since I was only a couple days away from being a full forty-two weeks it was now mandatory to have a consultation with an obstetrician and be informed as to the professional opinion. The non stress test went smoothly, as I knew it would as I could feel my baby girl moving and stretching and I felt no inner alarm. The ultrasound also confirmed a healthy placenta. However, the level of amniotic fluid had dropped. So there I was: first waiting for the obstetrician to make an appearance and second to hear what he had to say. Luke and I waited all morning but our scheduled appointment kept getting bumped. Eventually we were sent for lunch. Finally the obstetrician showed up around 2pm. His professional opinion was that I induce immediately. Plus he informed me that my cervix had yet to dilate which meant I was a sure candidate for a caesarean; later our midwives informed us that he didn't even want to give me that option and had simply wanted to schedule the surgery that day.
I was shocked and taken back. I was also offended; the medical staff didn't even try to mask their opinion that going overdue, especially two weeks overdue, was simply putting the baby at risk. I felt like reminding them that going overdue is actually normal and that studies have proven the safety of going right up to forty-three weeks, otherwise the College of BC Midwives wouldn't support it. I had heard the obstetrician's opinion but I was not about to be pushed around. I insisted that I consult with the midwives before I made any decision. He was not impressed that I dared challenge him. He made it clear that by not taking his advice meant he wouldn't be responsible for any adverse outcomes.
I don't remember exactly when I started to cry. It appeared that my home-birth was slipping away and with it any sort of control that was mine. I was desperately afraid that if I really was induced and admitted to the hospital all my hopes of a natural drug free birth would spiral away and the inevitable cesarean would loom ever larger. I felt paralyzed by fear; sucked into the vortex of the medical realm with the doors to the operating room swung open to the black hole that awaited me. It was too much. It was all I could see and all I could think about. Luke held me; consoling and reminding me that we would see the midwives and take it one step at a time. By the time the nurse came back to inform us that a midwife was waiting for us at their office I had somewhat regained my composure. I still clung to the hope that the medical opinion was overzealous and simply unwilling to see what was normal. Yet, my amniotic fluid had dropped and what did that mean?
Luke and I chose to walk to the midwives' office. Again a small part of me hoped that by some miracle just walking would put me into labour and that all this worry and fuss would be for nothing. It wasn't to be. Our midwife explained that the dropping of the amniotic fluid meant that my body's ability to sustain our baby girl was decreasing. Although there was still an adequate amount of fluid if it dropped any further then there wouldn't be enough for our baby to endure labour. Therefore I had a choice: I could either be induced or I could wait until Monday and go in for more monitoring. However, if my amniotic fluid dropped further then a natural birth would no longer be an option and an emergency c-section would be performed.
The next decision to make was if I was going to be induced would it be that evening or the next morning. That evening meant it would have to be at the Abbotsford Hospital (a half hour drive away) because the midwife on call was already attending a birth there. Or I could get a good night's rest and simply walk down the road and get induced at the Chilliwack Hospital the following morning. Initially Chilliwack seemed so convenient being right down the road; however, Abbotsford was a new facility with brighter, bigger and private rooms - and birthing tubs. I asked the simple question that would determine my choice: which hospital has the lower cesarean rate? As it turns out the obstetrician that I consulted with at the Chilliwack Hospital, his actual name I cannot recall although he has the nickname Dr. Doom and Gloom and Luke later referred to him as Dr. Cut Me Up, would be the O.B. on call that weekend, and of the O.B.s his cesarean rate was the highest. So, while the midwives would fight tooth and nail for whatever decisions I made, I had to be aware that not only would I not have his support, but I would be pressured into giving up and letting him do what he does best: operate. Yet, at the Abbotsford Hospital the midwives were all highly respected and as long as there was hope and progress the entire staff, doctors and nurses alike, would exhaust all options supporting a vaginal delivery. That was all I needed to hear.
It was four o'clock, it had been a long day and there was a lot of information to absorb; Luke and I decided to walk home and discuss it. Ultimately, while I could've waited the weekend the chance I wouldn't be able to have a vaginal birth, and thus wouldn't be able to go through the act of labour, was the determining factor. While this meant I had to give up my home birth at least this way I was assured the opportunity of having as normal a birth as possible. So with the information we had Luke and I decided that an induction that evening at the Abbotsford Hospital would be best. I made the phone call and an appointment for five-thirty was made. Our baby girl's presence was eminent.
attempts at writing this post: 9
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| 16 weeks: Enjoying jumping around outdoors |
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