Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Dates and decisions

I had an OB appointment today. Everything looks good: heart rate, measurement, my weight, my blood pressure. I'm waiting to hear on the glucose screen.

"So let's talk about dates."

We've talked about dates before, but now we're at the point where we could actually schedule. My due date is December 22, and since I've been cut open three times already, we know it's a c-section. The plan is for somewhere in the 39th week. Which means December 15–December 21. At my very first appointment, I told my doctor I couldn't have this baby on December 17. And I've said that again every appointment since.

I'd rather be home on December 17, home curled up on my own couch, with Henry's light on all day, and a candle, and maybe a trip to the cemetery.

The doctor tells me that they could possibly send me home on December 17 if I have the baby on December 15, but I know that I will spend the whole day getting checked and getting the baby checked and waiting, waiting, waiting for discharge. I've gotten discharged 48 hours after a c-section before, but I've never had to go home and take care of anyone but me.

So, could we do it earlier? Maybe the 10th or the 13th, but that would require an amnio, which I managed to avoid with Henry by going into labor and with Kathleen by having the doctor and I suppose the hospital cut me a little slack. Policies have tightened, I guess.

With Kathleen, I needed the extra days, the extra space away from December 17. I needed Brian to be there, not in the final days of class or in a final. And I worried that I was placing too much importance on that. The two or three extras days turned out okay for Kathleen, for which I'm grateful.

I wish I had a little more space this time, but I'm going with best for the baby and no amnio and remembering that December 17 will suck where ever I am. I put in my request for December 15.

And all this thinking, imagining myself on December 17 has left me tired, weary with the unneeded reminder that I had a baby and he died. I've tried not to think too much about December, but now I need to.

I think I can survive, even enjoy, most of the year now, but December with its birthdays and Christmas bookending the day he died, I just don't know how to face it.

A little ice cream, early bedtime, and going back to how I started: I had an OB appointment today—everything looks good. I'll just have to stick with that for now.


  1. The end is so hard, and even harder for you with all that is tied up in those dates. I really didn't make any decisions until, well, the day before Angus was born. I know this might be harder for you, but try not to worry *too* much now. Somehow, I think this will have a way of working itself out for you, and I feel crap just typing that.
    Thinking of you and hoping this baby arrives safe and well, whatever the date is.

  2. Sal, no need to feel bad about what you said. You're right—I did this before with Kathleen, not quite so close, but close enough, and it was hard leading in, but not so bad once I was there. I kind of expect that to happen again. It's just hard to start thinking ahead to December.

  3. Yep, that's it. Seems to get easier once you're there, even though now you're convinced it will be harder. That's the thing with pregnancy, time seems to go so much slower. December probably feels like light years away now, but really it is so close. That little baby is going to be here so soon. I hope everything works out for you with regards to the dates.

  4. I'm glad everything looks good, but I'm sorry the dates are so hard to negotiate right now. I hope that December is very kind this year. And I hope the ice cream was delicious.

  5. I can't imagine. But you are a strong strong woman, and Henry will be there, always, no matter what, to guide you.