Parenting Debates

Just when I think I have it all figured out with this season of motherhood, I am thrown a curve ball. It has happened to me so often by now, that I find it rather entertaining.

With just about every decision we have to make as parents, there is a debate about what is the best choice. I am one who researches each topic and gathers all the data, before choosing the best course of action. I am very confident in myself and the motherhood/parenting decisions I make. I can debate my position all day, if necessary.

As my children and I get older, I realize that the debate is not necessary. Every child and every family is different. There is no clear-cut solution for any situation that will apply perfectly to everyone.

I find that the Moms who are quick to share their parenting choices and offer advice are the Moms who are the most insecure about the choices they have made. I suspect they are really looking for affirmation that they made the best choice. They want someone else to agree with them so that they feel better about what they are doing.

The Moms who have the most wisdom to offer, tend to only share when asked. They share what worked for them in a humble way, taking time to note what variables led to their success and why they liked the outcome of a choice they made. They present their experience in a way that lets other Moms know that there is no single right answer for everyone.

I started out as a hard-core debating Mom who just knew I had all the right answers. I found that to be a very stressful way to live. I was constantly keeping an eye out for criticism. I was on edge, waiting for the next opportunity to defend myself. I offered strict advice regularly.

My joke is that Jersey #3 is the child who humbled me. My first 2 daughters were so happy, smart, well-fed, well-rested, well-adjusted, well-behaved, friendly, and social....according to me. I was certain it was all because of my superb parenting skills and mothering choices. Jersey #3 was clingy, insecure, unsocial, and high maintenance. He forced me to eat every critical word or thought I had ever had about any other parenting style. That was a lot of humble pie!

I have since learned to recognize and appreciate the individual differences in my children, and how that makes them unique and brings adventure to my life. I am enjoying the motherhood roller coaster ride I am on. I find myself further from the edges of debate as time advances.

Now, when I hear another Mom dish out her strict advice on a topic, I try to hold my tongue away from the debate, and instead listen for cues to the ways I can encourage her about the decision she has made. Clearly she is considering what is best for her family.

I find it harder to keep quiet on some topics than others. It is a growing process and I have a lot to learn.

Each time that my own motherhood experience receives a curve ball, I amuse myself by looking back to where I was then and where I am now. That list is growing. Here are a few fun examples...

I used to believe that "time-outs" were a silly and weak discipline method. I now realize that they can be a great tool for learning how to cope when emotions escalate. I offer to my children that they can take their space on their beds if they want to tantrum, until they cool down and can conduct themselves respectfully.

I used to support vaccinations so much that I was certain everyone needed to vaccinate their children. After learning about some of the unethical practices of producing vaccines....such as the rubella, Hepatitis A, and chicken pox vaccines being made from cell lines of aborted babies...I now very carefully choose which vaccinations to give my children, and I completely support other parents having the right to choose a vaccination time line, if they choose them at all.

I used to whole-heartedly support treating ear infections with antibiotics, even though current recommendations advise that ear infections may be caused more by viruses than by bacteria (and antibiotics only work on bacteria). Considering the extensive ear damage that runs in my extended family due to ear infections, I argued that IF there was a chance the infection was bacterial, then I wanted to attack it right away to try to prevent damage. Now that I have a son who is allergic to certain antibiotics, it is time to delay such treatments and let nature run its course.....at least for him....because ironically, we treat Jersey #2 with antibiotic prophylaxis in an attempt to prevent heart infection, even though the exact source of the bacteria that leads to heart infection is unknown, and the exact amount of antibiotic that is effective is also unspecific.

I used to fear c-section as if it was a childbirth failure. After having 2 cesarean deliveries (for completely different reasons), I actually find the surgical deliveries to be really cool. I completely agree that recovery is easier and shorter following vaginal delivery. Otherwise, c-section versus vaginal delivery (including the subset of vaginal with or without an epidural) are really just different ways to experience the joy of welcoming new life into the world. I realize I am no less or more of a woman or a mother based on how or where my baby was delivered.

I used to be prideful when my children reached developmental milestones early and worried when they reached milestones on time or late. I now realize that every child is unique, just as adults are different.

I used to believe that infant formula was as unhealthy to an infant as rat poison. After Jersey #5 refused to breastfeed, and after I ran out of milk after 4 months of pumping, because a pump is not as effective as a baby, I was on my knees thanking God for the infant formula resource that was available for me to feed my baby.

I used to believe that preschool was extremely important for a child to become academically advanced. After Jersey #3 explained to me that he did not want to "do school" because he was still little.....telling me, "I'm only 3"....I learned that another year of unstructured days can be a developmental benefit, not a setback.

I used to believe that the proper bedtime routine involved a bath, lotion, PJs, and a bedtime story. After experiencing Jersey #2 become energized, not relaxed, after a bath and remain wide awake for an extra 2-3 hours at night, I started bathing her earlier in the day.

I used to believe that MY way was the best way to care for our children. Now, I fully realize the power of a Father, and how important it is to give The Referee the space to interact with our children HIS way. Our children are better off having both unique parents, instead of having duplicate copies of 1 parent.

The Grand Finale

Attempting to bring a 5th living baby to our family was a hard-fought decision. My husband was content with 4, and certain he did not want to endure another pregnancy adventure again. I had not prepared to be done, and always hoped he would eventually come around to my way of thinking, and be willing to accept all the children we could be blessed with. We thought we had matured quite a bit in our marriage by now, but we quickly learned that the size of our family was still our most polarized issue. This time, we decided to come to the table together, to discuss it and try to resolve it once and for all. Surely we could negotiate a compromise. My husband explained to me how the emotional havoc of each pregnancy was more than he could handle. I explained to him that the joys of each new life overshadowed the trials we endured to get them here. I was such an optimist and a planner, that I stored away all the baby items to be used by the next child. I had already been storing away items that Jersey #4 outgrew. My heart already loved our next child, and I was not sure I could handle halting my dream so abruptly like that. I concluded that I understood and respected his position, but if he required that we have no more children, I was certain I would harbor much resentment towards him. We also discussed my dream to adopt children into our family. He was much more open to that idea, since it would not require a pregnancy on my part (and remains an open topic for our future). In the end, he agreed to support 1 more pregnancy, provided that I agreed that the 5th was the last. I was excited to be able to have another baby. He was relieved to know the end was in sight. We referred to this as our grand finale baby!

The first trimester of pregnancy with Jersey #5 was a breeze by comparison to my other pregnancies. I did not have morning sickness. I was very tired. I napped regularly with my toddlers. The first ultrasound at 11 weeks showed a healthy baby. I joked with Dr. S that I was planning to have one of those “normal” pregnancies that I hear other people talk about.

Unfortunately, stress entered the scene all too soon. First came a series of external stresses. My husband had a terrible time with some major job stress, which included a horrible coworker to face each day, and the financial instability of the company to threaten his job security. He was grumpy all the time, and focused on himself. Then, Jersey #2 and Jersey #4 both came down with the flu. Sick children can be quite exhausting to manage, and it did not help that we were really terrified that Jersey #2 might not have the heart health to handle such an illness. She fought the flu for over a month, and gave us a couple good scares in there. Thankfully, she eventually prevailed and regained her health over time. My Mom surprised us with a visit with the intention of helping us take care of Jersey #2, restore order in our household, find some rest ourselves, and free up my husband, so he could focus on his job. My husband threw himself into his work like a crazy man. I did not take the rest I needed, and instead continued to wear myself out with errands and activities. My Mom wore herself out with the workload of all the piled up chores at our house, in addition to care of 4 children. Stress mounted. Tempers flared. I listened to my Mom’s negativity all day, and my husband’s negativity all night….until I could not take it anymore. And then I snapped. I got into an epic argument with my Mom, that was halted only by the sensation of a gush of blood! Not again!

I called my husband home from work to take me to the hospital so that we could see what we were dealing with this time. He calmly responded, “ I was thinking it was about time for something like this again.” Sure enough, I was 14 weeks along. Time for a bleeding scare, we supposed. As we sat in the waiting room, I proceeded to vent to my husband about the awful argument with my Mom. He sat there next to me, pretending to listen to me, but reading an electronic article on his Palm Pilot instead.

Thankfully, the doctor’s assessment revealed that the baby was still alive and well in the womb, and my cervix was still closed. Unfortunately, the cause of bleeding could not be determined. The ultrasound department was booked, so they sent me home (after another RhoGam shot) with an ultrasound appointment for the following week. They encouraged me to rest as much as I could, as they were most worried about how much I was bleeding.

My Mom decided to go home and let me rest, thinking her presence was adding too much stress. I was torn between the relief of her going, and the desire to beg her to stay and help me. I was an emotional wreck. I was so scared, we might be losing the baby, and I was so weak physically from the stress, strain, and blood loss. I was also still angry about some of the things she said to me during our argument. I was embarrassed about the way I had behaved. And, I was hurt and furious with my husband, and all his negativity, selfishness, and lack of support for any of my emotional or pregnancy-related needs. That was too much emotional stress to even think straight. I went to bed to try to sleep it off. I rested in bed through the weekend. My husband took care of the kids and watched movies with them in the living room. He avoided me as much as possible. I felt very alone.

The ultrasound appointment revealed that indeed something was bleeding in the womb, but it was not real clear what it was. Placenta previa was ruled out, because the placenta was not over the cervix. My husband responded with “Oh great! We go from having rare problems to having unexplainable problems!” The ultrasound also revealed that the baby was alive, healthy, and a BOY! The plan was to keep resting, monitor the bleeding, and follow up with additional ultrasounds to try to identify the source of the problem.

We went through the motions of our life, with a heightened level of stress underlying everything. I needed the comfort of a friend. My husband needed something on his long list of stresses to give—to go away and stop plaguing him. I resented him for not supporting me like a friend. He resented me for even putting him through another stressful pregnancy in the first place. I accused him of not caring about me. He blamed me for everything he did not like about his life. Our relationship as we knew it, blew up in our face. We spent the remainder of the pregnancy barely speaking to each other…and certainly never speaking kindly. He worked extra days and longer hours. I set up a routine of life with me and the kids that seldom included him.

It took a lot of prayer to help me grow through the trials I was buried in. Our church family offered me a lot of support and encouragement. I prayed for God to work a miracle in the womb, and in our marriage. I did not appreciate the stress in my life, but I certainly knew where to turn to find peace.

I had an ultrasound appointment every 3-4 weeks for the entire 2nd trimester. Each ultrasound revealed a new suggestion as to what could be causing the bleed, or what to call the bleed. My body continued to bleed for over 2 months. Thankfully, Jersey #5 was able to continue to grow and thrive in the womb. Praise the Lord for His protection! The bleeding finally stopped toward the end of the 5th month of pregnancy, halting just as abruptly as it began. Early in the 3rd trimester, the perinatologist concluded that a piece of the placenta had broken away from the wall of the uterus (placental abruption). That is what was causing the bleeding. Thankfully, instead of continuing to pull the placenta away from the wall (which would have threatened the life of the baby and me, both), the abrupted part eventually broke off entirely from the placenta. It remained as a blood clot inside the womb, and Jersey #5 played with it for a while, as if it were a toy for him! Over time, that blood clot dissolved, and went away by the last month of pregnancy. Praise the Lord!

Delivery was the next challenge. If the placenta had continued to have problems, a C-section would have been encouraged. Since it appeared to be mended, my delivery options were open. A repeat Cesarean delivery, versus a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) is a heavily debated topic in the childbirth world. I met with the surgeon to discuss my options, seeking what was the safest way to deliver Jersey #5. The surgeon was a big fan of VBAC, especially in women who have successfully delivered vaginally before. He explained the risks of both options, and informed me that I was a great candidate for either option. From a medical perspective, he could not advise me to choose one method over the other, based on the statistics. I was hoping he would give me an easier conclusion than that. I was expecting him to nudge me in the direction of his preference, so he really surprised me when he told me that I should trust my intuition, and he would respect whichever decision I made. He said that he could quote the risk statistics to me all day, but since they were all at or below 1%....and he knew I represent that 1%.....those statistics would not do any good in my case. Rare things happen to me, so the statistics are just not helpful.

We brainstormed a healthy “compromise” that I felt good about. We scheduled a repeat C-section for the date when I was a day past 39 weeks, so that we would not risk him being born earlier than his lungs were ready. Since Jersey #5 was head down and in a good position for birth, there was no concern if I happened into labor on my own. If I did go into labor before that scheduled surgery, then we would assess the speed and progression of my labor, to see if a VBAC would work out. It covered all the bases for me. I would not go overdue (and risk meconium issues, or the placenta breaking down from age). I would not be induced (because induction is harder on the uterine muscles and could potentially aid in rupture of the old scar). Jersey #5 would not be rushed out of the womb too early, for the sake of avoiding labor. And, if nature ran its course and labor came easily, I could confidently allow it to run its course. If nature did not run its course, then Jersey #5 would be brought into the world via surgical delivery, and I would enjoy getting the planning and scheduling that comes with it. It was a win-win situation! I spent the remainder of the pregnancy praying that God’s will be done in this situation, and praying that I would be blessed with a healthy, living baby boy. I did not want to try to take matters in my own hands. I knew who was in control!

And that was when I had to start drinking from the saucer….because my cup runneth over! Blessings were poured out all over me those last few weeks of pregnancy. My husband decided he had had enough stress from his unstable job, so he started to seek a new one. He was offered a great job, in his field of interest, with a local company that was of good size and stable. They offered him a competitive salary that met our needs, along with good health insurance, and the perk of an education benefit for my husband to return to school for a higher degree. As his other stresses began to decrease, he also began to realize that pushing me away was not in his best interest. He started speaking kinder and acting nicer towards me. He started to take a greater interest in his family. We worked together to get things organized and prepared for our new addition. My Mom arrived a couple days before the surgery date, to take care of the kids during the delivery. We were able to enjoy some time to visit, my husband was able to process out of one job and into the other….and still have two weeks off to be home to help. We installed a brand new infant car seat (because our other one had expired!) I packed up a bag for the hospital, and we attempted to get a good night’s rest.

The only time that I seem to go into labor early and on my own is when I schedule a c-section delivery! Sure enough, my water broke at 4am, the morning I was scheduled to report to the hospital by 7am. I took my time getting showered and dressed, waiting to see if things would progress. Nope. It was PROM (premature rupture of membranes) again, and there were no contractions. Dr. S recommended I just go to the hospital early and see how things were progressing. So we did. Oddly enough, the bag of waters had broken, but my cervix was not even acting like it was ready for delivery. (I do not know how that is possible.) The surgeon happened to be on the floor when I arrived, so he assessed me and said that he really didn’t have any new recommendation beyond what he recommended a month ago. My situation was not any different, as far as he could tell, since my body was not actually in labor. I was not going to go for an induction to move things along, since that would bring risk. So, we opted for the c-section. Since I arrived early that morning, the night nurses got me prepped early, and I was the first surgical patient of the day! It was nice to go through the surgical delivery in the morning, when I was rested and awake. The anesthesiologist gave me a bit of concern when she attempted to draw blood and ended up butchering my arm veins. She must have seen the worry on my face, because she assured me that she would be much better at placing the epidural needle in my back. Yikes! It was true…she was fantastic at placing the epidural needle. She turned out to be a really good anesthesiologist. She told me to tell her if I began to feel queasy, but somehow she always knew I was getting queasy and was already fixing it, even before my mind was considering the idea. I remember thinking “Oh, I think I am getting queasy"....then I would see her out of the corner of my eye, inject something into my IV…and instantly I would change my mind, “Nope, it’s gone.” The surgeon was the same surgeon who had delivered Jersey #4, and he admired his handiwork and complimented the quality of my healing from that first cesarean. Jersey #5 must have been up high, because there were points when I was feeling pressure as if they were digging around in my ribs to find him! And then, he was born! Jersey #5 came out so healthy and alive! He cried to let us know he could, then he immediately settled down and checked out the new environment. He was content with his Daddy holding him, next to me, while the surgeon finished closing everything up.

He was able to nurse when I was moved to recovery, and then he settled right to sleep on my chest.

The recovery room nurses were so happy with us and kind to us. They zipped me through recovery because I was doing so well, and they moved me to my room in time for lunch…..taking me to the nicest room in the new wing of the hospital. It was a corner room with an amazing outdoor view! With our grand finale baby, we were going out in style!

She Turned Our World Upside-Down

Jersey #4 does not have a pregnancy & childbirth STORY....she has an ADVENTURE!

The largest age gap between our children is this one between Jersey #3 and Jersey #4. This is because Jersey #3 was a high maintenance baby! His demands left us drained, exhausted, and barely able to function for nearly his entire first year (but that would be another post entirely)! When I finally reached a point where I felt brave enough to desire another baby, The Referee offered a mathematical solution...."We've already got 2 girls and 1 boy, so let's have another boy and make it even!" (Sure enough, Jersey #4 is a girl.)

Pregnancy arrived easily and we were excited to share our big news that our family was growing! Unfortunately, our extended families reacted poorly. We heard a lot of "With all that you have been through, are you sure you want to try to have more kids?" and "I thought you were done"..."I thought your husband was done".....or the ever-popular "I thought you would stop once you got your boy." My husband and I were both a little shocked by such negativity. I was more shocked that anyone who knew me would dare think I was done having kids, since I have always expressed a desire for a large family. My husband was shocked that folks even had strong opinions about the size of OUR family, as if that was any of their business. He went so far as to react to his Mom with, "Well, it is not like I am asking you to pay for them or take care of them." In some ways, the negative reactions from others were a blessing to us, as we were able to turn towards each other for support at the start of this pregnancy, acting as a team.

Once again, the first trimester was filled with morning sickness and exhaustion. Blah. And, once again there was a big bleeding scare. This time, I was just past 13 weeks. Thinking we knew the routine, we went to the hospital to see what we might be dealing with. With Jersey #3, Dr S said placenta issues were usually to blame, so that is what we were expecting again. There were a few major differences this time around. First, it was A LOT of bleeding. A lot. Second, the resident doctor in charge that day has no business working in the field of prenatal health. I do not know her story, but I do know she really should pick a different career. The intern was awesome, and he was able to find the baby's heartbeat. That was a huge relief, because at least we knew the baby was still alive. He also came to my defense when the Resident doctor continued to suggest that bleeding in pregnancy can be caused by many things, including sexually transmitted diseases, especially if I had any new sexual partners recently. I stared at her---completely jaw dropped open---wondering what in the world she was talking about! Apparently, she didn't bother to read anything in my chart before entering the room. The intern actually told her that all of my children also belonged to my husband (not that he even asked me that question), but I am guessing even he thought his superior was on the wrong tangent. I finally interrupted her and gave her a brief run-down of my previous pregnancy, where a bleeding scare like this was caused by placenta previa. She brushed off the idea of placenta issues, and said she had no need to check on things via ultrasound. By that point, I had enough of her, and just replied that since we heard the heartbeat and knew the baby was alive, I was content with that, and I would just follow up with Dr. S when he returned from vacation the following week. The Resident Doctor then offered the "comfort" of telling me that IF this pregnancy was even wanted, that I MIGHT have some grief if I miscarried! What? I informed her that I completely understood the grieving cycle, as I had already had a stillborn baby and a baby I miscarried. I assured her that women DO grieve the loss of their babies. I waited around for the nurse to give me yet another RhoGam shot (due to RH incompatibility), and went home to rest.

I saw Dr. S the first business day he was back in town, and he immediately ordered an ultrasound to see what we were dealing with. He could not find the baby's heartbeat with the Doppler that morning, and I was not feeling movement, so I was secretly in a state of panic. It did not take the ultrasound tech long to figure out that my panic was not a secret, because as soon as she placed the transducer on my abdomen and started to search for the baby, I stopped breathing completely and was trembling so hard that she reached out her other hand and held my arm down against the table to hold me still. She captured an image of the baby--with a beating heart--immediately! She then took a pause to let me catch my breath, calm down, and wipe the tears of relief from my face. She did not say a word about my reaction, but her entire posture was filled with compassion. Instead of starting with crown-to-rump measurements, she stayed right there on the heart, and played the recording of the heartbeat 3 times in a row (probably because I relaxed more and more each time it played).

This tech did a great ultrasound evaluation. She was able to get a great view of the problem....a subchorionic hematoma. This is a blood clot between the layers of the amniotic sac. It looks like a big bubble on ultrasound....

The cause is unknown. These are often discovered during the first trimester, during routine ultrasounds. They sometimes bleed, but sometimes not. They usually resolve themselves by the 2nd trimester. Of course, since this is me we are talking about, the subchorionic hematoma I had was huge. It was causing so much bleeding that when I returned to the hospital later in the pregnancy for another RhoGam shot, the nurse remembered me from "that miscarriage that had so much blood." (She was shocked to learn I was actually still pregnant, and the baby was still alive). And, I was in the 2nd trimester when it was discovered...so no one knew if it would actually resolve by delivery, since I was not following the textbook.

So, once again, I spent the second trimester resting as much as I could, praying constantly, and worrying way too much about something that was out of my control. And, once again, my husband decided he could not handle the emotional strain of a risk to the life of our child, so he threw himself into his work and avoided home as much as possible. Thankfully, the bleeding did eventually stop after a couple weeks. We monitored the size of the hematoma with ultrasounds every 3-4 weeks, and it eventually started to shrink. By the time I was in the 3rd trimester, we knew we were having a baby GIRL, and the doctors were confident that the hematoma was not affecting the growth of the baby, and it would be dissolved completely by the time of delivery. Praise the Lord!

And then, the other shoe dropped.....

The company that my husband was working for announced they needed to lay-off about 10% of their employees, due to major financial woes. My husband received 60 days advanced notice that he was going to be laid-off from his job. Jersey #4 was due in 58 days!

There was no time to cry or lament. We took one evening to face the emotional impact of this disappointment. Then, he got busy! He updated his resume, attended the career counseling seminar the company offered, and started job hunting with great passion. We also took charge of trying to get out of a rental property mess we were dealing with, and evicted the non-paying renters, and put the property on the market to be sold (at a loss). I prayed constantly, and asked for prayers from our family and friends, repeatedly. We decided to aim for local jobs first, but opened ourselves up to the possibility of moving out of state.

Thankfully, my husband received 2 job offers within a month. My husband was excited about the "really cool" start-up opportunity, so he chose that job. We were so thankful he found another job so quickly. Praise the Lord! The additional blessing was that the transition between jobs would occur right around the time of our daughter's birth, giving my husband at least a week or two to be home to help. How nice that things are working out so well for us!

And then a 3rd shoe drops....(aren't there usually only 2 shoes?)....

At my 37 week prenatal appointment, I commented to Dr. S that I was not convinced that Jersey #4 was in the proper head-down position. Usually, Dr. S has great skill at determining the position of the baby, just by pressing on my abdomen. He palpated to check, and was a little unsure. So, he called a colleague and sent me over to that clinic for a quick ultrasound peek at the baby's position. That doctor was busy when I arrived, so he had one of his Resident Doctors meet with me first and run the ultrasound. Sure enough, Jersey #4 was breech. She was determined to be a "Footling Breech," because she was standing on one foot in the womb. Her foot was down, her head was up. She was not in the proper labor-ready position for birth. I had already research some of the options, so I knew that a breech baby would encourage a c-section delivery. I had also read about the procedure to attempt to externally turn a breech baby, known as a version. I had many questions and concerns.

The Resident Doctor was a big fan of the version, and very against c-sections. She started to explain the version, and completely ignored my concerns. I refused to be dismissed, so I continued to ask questions and express my concerns. I told her that I was not certain I was even a good candidate for the version, considering the subchorionic hematoma I had. If the amniotic sac was weakened in some way that it had a bleed, then was it even wise to go adding external pressure like that? She brushed off my question with the reply that most of those hematomas resolve themselves by the 2nd trimester. Yes, that is true, but mine did not. I then explained to her that I was suffering from torn abdominal muscles, (due to a big coughing illness I had during that pregnancy), so I wasn't even sure my abdomen would handle the procedure very well. She brushed that off and said it wasn't a problem. I then explained my BIG concern which was that the version has a chance at causing the umbilical cord to wrap around the baby's neck. And, this doctor lost her case when she casually shrugged and told me that cords around the neck were not usually a problem either. I sternly informed her that my first baby arrived stillborn due to the umbilical cord being around her neck, and what was "not usually a problem" for her, was a BIG problem for me! When the statistical risks are quoted as only being around 1%, I AM THAT 1%!!! Those rare problems always seem to happen to ME! And, when it is happening to ME, it is 100% for ME!!! She then argued back at me that since I had already had 4 successful vaginal deliveries, I did not want a C-section. I informed her that of course I did not want a C-section delivery...no one wants a C-section...I wanted my baby to be born ALIVE! I was choosing the delivery option that was the safest for my baby, because I was not going to risk burying a child just to bring down the c-section statistical rates! She had the nerve to hand me an appointment card, with the version scheduled for the next morning, and assured me that I could talk to the surgeon then and opt out of the procedure.

I left that clinic and called my husband. He listened to the information and said that if the version only had a 70% success rate at turning the baby, but also ran a risk of harm to the baby....and a c-section was safe for the baby, but added risks to me of infection and a longer recovery time...then it sounded like a no-brainer to him to schedule a c-section. After all, our top priority is a living baby. Infections and recovery complications we could handle. Keeping everyone alive was the priority. I totally agreed.

I called Dr. S and gave him a run-down of the appointment, the advice I was given, and our decision to refuse the version and go with a c-section. He assured me that we were making a wise decision, and he would call the surgeon and inform him. I was worried that the surgeon was going to be mad that I didn't let him try the version. I had nothing to worry about, though, because the surgeon was totally understanding and respectful of our decision. He apologized for being too busy that day I arrived in his clinic, saying he wished he had the chance to talk to me himself instead. He was also completely understanding of my history of complications, and even offered to schedule the c-section 3 days before my due date, to follow along with Dr. S's pattern of "mercy."

I assured the surgeon that I had never gone into labor early before, and I felt comfortable waiting until the date he originally proposed for the c-section (which happened to be 2 days before my due date). He had explained to me from the beginning that he did not want me to go into labor on my own, because with the baby's foot on my cervix, and not her head, there was great risk of the cord swooshing out of my body, if my water broke, because nothing would be there to stop it (and that is an emergency situation). He did not want to do the surgery too early, because he wanted the baby to have as much time to grow and develop as possible. Balancing those priorities was very important. He gave me his pager number and told me to page him at the first sign of labor, or he would otherwise see me the morning the c-section was scheduled.

In the days that followed, I read all I could to learn about c-sections, so that I would be prepared for the procedure, what to expect with it, what could go wrong, how it would be different, and how to best heal while also taking care of a newborn. I received a lot of encouragement from 3 older women, who all told me their breech baby vaginal delivery stories (or nightmares, as the case may be). One lady put it best when she said that breech babies come out looking like they were in a fight. I also paid attention to all the c-section stories I could gather from the moms I knew who had experienced them. I was ready. I buried my fears of the unknown and tried to focus on the positive...getting to "schedule" the birth day....what a cool thing for a planning person like me.

...and then shoes started dropping all over the place.....

I never did get to experience the benefit of scheduling Jersey #4's delivery. No, my body decided to go into labor on its own. Early. For the first time ever. Two days before the scheduled c-section (4 days before my due date), our Realtor called me to tell me that she had received a cash offer on the property we were trying to sell. Two hours later, my water broke! (our Realtor takes credit for sending me into labor with her awesome news). My husband was at work at the time, attempting to out-process from his job. He had already turned in his pager, and was in an area where he could not take his cell phone. I could not reach him. My Mom was planning to visit and stay with the kids during the delivery, but she was not set to arrive until the next day. I paged the surgeon and got his voicemail message that said he was out of town for the day and to not leave a message! I started to panic. I called Dr. S (who enjoyed a chuckle at my predicament) and he advised me to go to the hospital immediately, before I risked delivering on the interstate! I sat frozen in the chair, so that I did not move and encourage the cord to move anywhere it shouldn't be, and started to make a series of phone calls to our church family. I called our babysitters, who gladly came over to watch the kids. I called my friend (who is a trained nurse), who gladly came over to drive me to the hospital...and was even ready to deliver the baby on the way, if necessary! I called my Mom, who jumped into her truck and started the drive to my house.

My sister called me as I was on the way to the hospital. She told me she was busy calling and emailing my husband, so that when he returned to the world of technology, he would know the news and could meet me at the hospital. She was also very curious to know if my water broke first, before contractions began. Yes. This is a funny thing to us, because it supposedly only happens about 10% of the time, yet it has happened to me and both of my sisters, and our Mom!

We made it to the hospital in plenty of time. Contractions had not started yet. The cord was not swooshing out. All was well. My husband made it to the hospital shortly after, thanks to my sisters' messages. Since I had eaten a hamburger for lunch, they wanted to delay the surgery for as long as possible, to allow me time to digest. The surgeon made it back to town, and to the hospital while I was waiting and digesting. The baby was being monitored, and she was doing great. My Mom arrived to stay with the kids. Contractions did not start for 4 hours after my water broke. Things were running fairly smoothly, under the circumstances, until a series of emergency c-sections bumped my name down the list and required further waiting. I was dilated to 4 cm and it was 11pm, by the time it was my turn in the delivery room.

The C-section delivery was really, really cool! I don't know if we were open to adventure, or if we were just that elated that our daughter was being born, but my husband and I had a blast with the surgical birth experience! My husband dressed up in the surgery room scrubs and proudly modeled his new look for me. I strained my head to try to capture any glimpses of the surgery in the reflections off the metal equipment around my head. (There was a sheet blocking us from the surgical site). I enjoyed resting on a bed while the surgeon did all the work to remove the baby from my body. My husband and I chatted and joked with each other and the anasthesiologist. Here is a picture of us, while the surgery was in the early stage.....

I was numb from the waist down, and could not feel anything. The surgeon explained to us that Jersey #4 would be born feet first....he would reach in and grab hold of her feet and pull her out. She did not appreciate his services, and came out screaming! We were so thankful to know she was alive! She was healthy and alive! And screaming! Lots of screaming. She calmed down when her Daddy held her. He brought her for me to see. I asked what color was her hair, and my husband replied that she did not have any. She was so blonde that she was bald. She was also demanding to nurse. She was not real patient with the surgeon trying to close up shop. She screamed in the operating room. She screamed in the hallway as we were rolling to the recovery room. The assistant wanted to do an assessment of the baby while she had a chance as soon as we arrived at the recovery room, but Jersey #4 refused. She screamed to nurse. So, the doctor gave in and handed her to me and suggested I nurse her first, before they attempted anything else. Jersey #4 nursed well, snuggled in my arms, and fell asleep on my chest. Thankfully, I was recovering very well from the surgery, so the nurses were able to let me just lay there undisturbed for a while, and hold my baby girl. As my husband dosed, sitting in the chair beside us, I reflected on the implications of this child and her adventurous life thus far. We just might have our hands full with this one. She refused to turn head down to be born the regular way. She refused to wait for her scheduled delivery. And...I had just witnessed a doctor give in to a newborn baby and quit an assessment because she was demanding her Mama and would not settle for anything else. For some reason, when I was dreaming about the arrival of a 4th child into our family, I was expecting her to be calm and easy-going. Instead, Jersey #4 completely turned our world upside-down!