Isabelle's birth story--the long version--Part 3

Going back to South Korea didn't make things easier. If anything, the stress got worse, much worse. I found out first of all that South Korea's cesarean rate is higher than the US's by as much as 10%, maybe even more than that. Second, my weight as well as the weight of my first daughter when she was born really freaked out the OB I started seeing. I mean, REALLY freaked him out (not to mention, he thought I was 16 years older than I was because he saw my husband's birth date and not mine). He started talking about needing an ultrasound before the due date to see how big the baby was and I knew that that was a big red flag. Third, I came to find out that because South Korea has such a low obesity rate compared to the US (only 3% over there), most of the clinics and hospitals were unprepared to deal with a woman my size. The clinics I went to (I went to two different OBs while I was there) did not have blood pressure cuffs that fit me. They likely didn't have gowns my size. And it was doubtful that they would even have an epidural needle long enough for me if one was needed which meant that if a cesarean was needed, I would likely have to be put under. The thought of have a cesarean done by a doctor who had had absolutely NO experience with an obese woman terrified me. I honest to goodness felt that if I had stayed there and ended up needing a cesarean, I would die. And nothing anyone told me helped that feeling. I honestly felt that if I stayed in South Korea to have the baby I would die. It took some convincing but John agreed that it would be for the best that I return to the US to have the baby.

In the meantime, I was under a lot of stress, far more stress than I was under when I was pregnant with my older daughter. I became depressed. I became so depressed, I was almost suicidal. I was freaking out over all of the decisions that had to be made. I was worried because I couldn't get on the national insurance over there (even though both Natalie and I were supposed to be on the insurance) and every appointment I went to was costing us money (not a ton of money compared to what it would cost in the US but it was money we needed) so I wasn't going to very many prenatal appointments. My self esteem was low, VERY low, because of my weight and because every time I turned around I was reminded how the world saw me because of it whether it was an article on obesity and pregnancy risks or how midwives in the UK would no longer take obese women. I was even starting to consider gastric bypass because I felt that I would never be accepted as a fat person. I would read The Plus Sized Pregnancy website and blog constantly for reassurance, reassurance that just because I was fat didn't mean I couldn't have a vaginal birth, didn't mean I was defective. It was hard though because I saw so many comments towards overweight mothers to be, even got some comments (some, of all places, from my own husband!). I came extremely close to having, for the first time in my life, an honest to goodness eating disorder and it was almost easy because I hated most of the food over there, I was constantly nauseous, and I was stressed and depressed and just not able to eat a lot of the time.

Not only was I dealing with all of this but John was also having job issues. The school he had been working ended its English program which meant he had to change jobs which meant new visas which meant I ended up off the insurance (that I was on for one week and then never really got on again until a week or so before I left Korea). Thankfully it didn't mean we had to move but we probably should have with all of the mold issues we were having (among other issues but the mold was the big one and it was literally all over the room we all slept in which is what happens when you build a building entirely out of cement and then don't bother to do anything with it to keep moisture out!).

And if that wasn't enough, I found out that my younger sister's first husband's father (the first husband who was killed in 2003 by my father and is the reason both of my parents are in prison for life) had lung cancer. He had sort of unofficially adopted us all after my parents were incarcerated and had become a HUGE part of my life since that time, more so than my own biological father had. He was given six months without treatment, maybe two years with treatment (he passed away just over 13 months ago, not quite 13 months after he was first diagnosed).

So, it was a really difficult time, with a lot of uncertainty and a lot of agonizing over decisions including what to do with Natalie. Due to the price of plane tickets going up substantially since I went to the US in November, it was looking like I would have to leave her behind. I could deal with leaving John behind and could even deal with not having him there when I had the baby (he wasn't much help when I was in labor with Natalie) but the thought of leaving Natalie behind really worried me and it was a decision I really agonized over and it didn't help that a lot of moms judged me for even thinking of leaving her behind and accused me of not doing everything I possibly could to be able to take her with. I also worried about the economy in the US and how I would survive and what we would do after the baby was born.

I think, towards the end, all of the stress was getting to me and it was starting to effect my pregnancy. When I went to the OB to get cleared for my return, she expressed some concern with my blood pressure. I was possibly having some pregnancy induced high blood pressure. She wanted me to be seen by a doctor as soon as possible after I returned to the US. Fortunately, she did clear me for my flight and gave me the records I would need for the doctors over there. I also had John get the records I would need from the other OB I saw. Everything was in place for me to leave. I would be leaving Natalie behind though and that was the hardest decision I ever had to make for her since the morning she was born. But I had no choice. If I was going to have the best chance at having a VBAC (or even a cesarean I wasn't going to die from), I had to return to the US.

So, on May 6, 2010, I left South Korea for the last time. I was almost 30 weeks pregnant and I had no idea what was going to happen when I returned. I didn't have a provider. I didn't have any idea who I was even going to try and see. I was taking a HUGE gamble. I didn't have a place to live even or anyone to stay with. John set up a hotel room for me for a week at $200. That was where I was going to be staying. There was a ton of uncertainty facing me. But I knew and John knew that it was the best chance we had to achieve what was really almost next to impossible to achieve. I mean, my chance of a VBAC in the US was 10%, maybe even less considering my weight (though I didn't know it was that low at the time--probably a good thing I didn't!) but I knew my chance of a VBAC in South Korea was even lower than that and I just couldn't take the chance of something going wrong, I just felt that I needed to come home. Maybe it was instinctual, maybe it was the incredibly great need to be somewhere familiar to me, I don't know but I knew, without a doubt, I needed to come home and have my baby in the US. But getting home was only half the battle...