Now that I was back in the United States, the first thing I needed to do would be to find a provider who would support my desire to have a VBAC. That was easier said than done, sad to say. In my town, there are two hospitals. I had had my older daughter at one of the hospitals and decided that I would look into the other hospital to have this baby. The OB I had when I had my older daughter had left the area so I figured maybe a new hospital would be just what I needed. I was also trying to look into a midwife but wasn't having the best of luck there. A lot of this I was trying to do while I was in Korea and I didn't have my birth records with me which made it more difficult for anyone to really know what had gone on when I had my older daughter.
Now that I was in the US, I could really get going. I didn't have much going on because I was staying in a hotel and after I saw everyone the first night I arrived (after a very long, grueling, international flight from Korea to Japan, Japan to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to my home town) I was pretty much left to myself so I called up OB/GYN at the first hospital and scheduled an appointment, hoping to maybe get set up with a midwife there. When I get to my first appointment, the nurse was kind of surprised to hear I was already over 30 weeks. I guess I didn't look that far along because of the extra weight but I was and was very much showing in front but the weight kind of hid it too. They did the glucose testing then and there and I failed it (my fault, I think I over did the Oreos the night before) so they wanted to set up the three hour test at some point during the next week. I was also set up with an OB. I had to see her before I could even see a midwife. In the meantime, I tried to stay with my older sister to save some money on the hotel because it was costing me $200/week. I was there a week already and that had ended. I stayed at my sister's for three days before I realized that it was better for me to stay in the hotel where I was closer to everything, especially since I was trying to watch what I was eating so that I wouldn't fail the three hour test when I finally had it done.
So, Sunday the 16th of May I was back at the hotel and I had appointments scheduled for the next week which included the evil nasty 3 hour glucose testing and an appointment with an OB. The three hour test, as I figured, was evil. I hate needles, hate having my blood drawn, tend to freak out about it. When I had it done during my pregnancy with my older daughter, I almost passed out. I went white, had a bunch of nurses surrounding me with washcloths, had to lie down in another room for about 20 minutes to get my blood pressure back up, in general did not do well. And I would have to endure three or four blood draws. The sugar stuff made me sleepy. I was falling asleep in the waiting room waiting for the blood draw. During the one drawing, the nurse got particularly rough with my inner elbow, rubbing it raw. It just didn't give me warm fuzzy feelings, that's for sure. I wasn't sure about going to this hospital. I had never heard the greatest things about it in as far as its OB/GYN department but wanted to have a clean slate so to emotionally when trying for my VBAC. Should have just gone with the devil I knew, you know?
My appointment with the OB was the next day, I think. I had passed the test (one worry off my mind) but apparently, that didn't matter. My BMI was too high, according to this OB (a woman), and therefore, I would need to have a repeat cesarean scheduled. Before this conclusion, she basically berated me for several minutes as to why I would even want a VBAC, pulling out the dead baby card by saying that because I was SO FAT it would take them up to FIVE MINUTES LONGER to get to my baby if something happened that more than likely my baby would die and I didn't want my baby to DIE, DID I? I kind of mentioned something along the lines of well no, but a cesarean could kill ME but I don't think she heard me. She just went on and on and about risks and how my chance of success were SO LOW because of my HIGH BMI that it was just TOO RISKY for me to even TRY to have a VBAC. So, in other words, I wasn't even going to get a trial of labor. When she passed me off to the nurse, she told the nurse to schedule the cesarean. I had had my birth plan already written up to show her and the nurse wouldn't even look at it. I cried. I had gone through SO MUCH getting to this point and I felt emotionally crushed and I just cried. I don't think I even scheduled it, just scheduled a bunch of appointments and maybe went through a few things for the birth plan (in as far as a cesarean) and then I left, kind of out of it. When I got back to the hotel, I started thinking and I started getting MAD. HOW DARE SHE?! No, I was NOT going to put up with that kind of attitude. I did NOT travel 6000 miles to have this WOMAN treat me that way! That was NOT why I came back to the US!
I called a friend of mine, Tami, and talked to her and it wasn't long after that that she presented an idea that I feel was the absolute turning point of the whole thing. She offered me a place to stay for the summer (I was actually looking into doing a sublease deal for the summer because I had no other options for housing) and she offered to help me out with the midwife she had had when she had her youngest daughter (who was born right around the time I conceived my older daughter). We had actually met on ICAN back when I had joined after Natalie was born and had kept in touch off and on throughout the last four years. I was really surprised that she offered to take me in considering we didn't know each other THAT well but she truly is one of those people who helps those who are in need whenever and however she can. So on Sunday, May 23rd, she picked me up from the hotel and we went down to Iowa for my first appointment with the midwife. Brenda was awesome. We talked a bit and made plans to see each other again. I made plans to get my medical records from Natalie's birth. In the meantime, as we were trying to figure out how to get it all to work, I made an appointment with OB/GYN at the other hospital since we weren't sure if it could all be pulled off and I was getting into my 33rd week of pregnancy. So I went in in early June (due date was July 17) to get something set up.
The OB I was put with was okay. It was a male which I wasn't sure about in the first place (feel more comfortable with females in general). But, on the whole, he was a little more positive and supportive about my chance for a VBAC than the last OB was. While his recommendation would be for a repeat cesarean, he felt that if he did not at least support my attempt to have a VBAC, I would just leave and go to a midwife and he felt that was even more dangerous (crickets kind of sounded after he said that because that was pretty much exactly what I was doing!). I would have to sign a bunch of papers that would say I'm doing this AMA and we would go over everything we needed to go over (like my birth plan which, I do have to say, he did go over very thoroughly with me and explained to me what could be done and what could not be done due to hospital policies so in that regard, he was pretty good). He had me do an ultrasound, baby was fine and within normal size (at least not showing to be excessively large especially since my older daughter was over 9 lbs at birth) and he seemed less concerned when he had taken a look at my scar (which is almost invisible and is at the bikini line). Baby was showing to be head down so it was just a matter of doing the last several appointments.
In the meantime, I decided to hire the midwife on as montrice. Due to the due date and the timing of things in July, it was possible that since I would need two midwives that we would have to do a montrice situation to begin with if I went into labor before my due date. If it was after my due date, the plan was to do the labor and delivery at a hotel down in Iowa. I wasn't very sure about this. First of all, I wasn't sure about the idea of having two different plans depending on when I went into labor. I also really did not feel comfortable with the idea of going down to Iowa and having the baby at a hotel. It didn't quite meet my idea of a homebirth and I also kind of felt that it would sort of take away some of the benefits of having a homebirth/midwife birth. So, after some thinking, I decided and asked if it would be possible to have the midwife on as just a montrice. And she came back to me saying that that's what we can do and so I think finally, around 35 weeks, everything was in place and I just had to wait. The plan was when I went into labor, to labor at home as long as possible, AT LEAST past where I was when I had the cesarean with Natalie (so past 4 cms, that was important to me), then go to the hospital where my friend Tami would serve as my doula.
My last appointment with the OB was July 5th. When he used the dopplar, it malfunctioned, making some REALLY loud noises. When he used one that worked, he noted that the baby's heart rate was kind of high so had me go and do a NST. Well, during that, I realized that my cell phone was missing so ended up a little panicked which probably didn't help the test and since the heart rate was still a little high, I got sent up to L&D. I KNEW the baby was fine, just likely freaked out by the loud dopplar and my own panicking but got sent up there anyway for several hours only to find out the baby was just fine. Obviously, they weren't overly concerned because my next appointment wasn't set up until July 15--ten days later and two days before my due date. When that day came I decided to cancel the appointment. I realize that it was a gamble and a lot of people probably would judge me for making that kind of decision but the baby had been moving around fine and when I had asked the OB, he told me that he would be doing a cervical check starting at week 39. I didn't want it. I didn't want to be discouraged and I didn't want him to become concerned about something and decide I needed to go up to L&D. If baby didn't come by Tuesday morning, I would go in then. If baby stopped moving, I would go in. If anything didn't feel right, I would go in. In the meantime, I would do a bunch of walking and moving around in hopes of getting things moving. I felt good about that decision and if I was worried, I had a midwife who was a phone call away and a friend/doula who likely knew when to be concerned as well. Now, we just had to wait until Isabelle was ready to come out.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Isabelle's birth story--the long version--Part 4
Now that I was back in the United States, the first thing I needed to do would be to find a provider who would support my desire to have a VBAC. That was easier said than done, sad to say. In my town, there are two hospitals. I had had my older daughter at one of the hospitals and decided that I would look into the other hospital to have this baby. The OB I had when I had my older daughter had left the area so I figured maybe a new hospital would be just what I needed. I was also trying to look into a midwife but wasn't having the best of luck there. A lot of this I was trying to do while I was in Korea and I didn't have my birth records with me which made it more difficult for anyone to really know what had gone on when I had my older daughter.
Now that I was in the US, I could really get going. I didn't have much going on because I was staying in a hotel and after I saw everyone the first night I arrived (after a very long, grueling, international flight from Korea to Japan, Japan to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to my home town) I was pretty much left to myself so I called up OB/GYN at the first hospital and scheduled an appointment, hoping to maybe get set up with a midwife there. When I get to my first appointment, the nurse was kind of surprised to hear I was already over 30 weeks. I guess I didn't look that far along because of the extra weight but I was and was very much showing in front but the weight kind of hid it too. They did the glucose testing then and there and I failed it (my fault, I think I over did the Oreos the night before) so they wanted to set up the three hour test at some point during the next week. I was also set up with an OB. I had to see her before I could even see a midwife. In the meantime, I tried to stay with my older sister to save some money on the hotel because it was costing me $200/week. I was there a week already and that had ended. I stayed at my sister's for three days before I realized that it was better for me to stay in the hotel where I was closer to everything, especially since I was trying to watch what I was eating so that I wouldn't fail the three hour test when I finally had it done.
So, Sunday the 16th of May I was back at the hotel and I had appointments scheduled for the next week which included the evil nasty 3 hour glucose testing and an appointment with an OB. The three hour test, as I figured, was evil. I hate needles, hate having my blood drawn, tend to freak out about it. When I had it done during my pregnancy with my older daughter, I almost passed out. I went white, had a bunch of nurses surrounding me with washcloths, had to lie down in another room for about 20 minutes to get my blood pressure back up, in general did not do well. And I would have to endure three or four blood draws. The sugar stuff made me sleepy. I was falling asleep in the waiting room waiting for the blood draw. During the one drawing, the nurse got particularly rough with my inner elbow, rubbing it raw. It just didn't give me warm fuzzy feelings, that's for sure. I wasn't sure about going to this hospital. I had never heard the greatest things about it in as far as its OB/GYN department but wanted to have a clean slate so to emotionally when trying for my VBAC. Should have just gone with the devil I knew, you know?
My appointment with the OB was the next day, I think. I had passed the test (one worry off my mind) but apparently, that didn't matter. My BMI was too high, according to this OB (a woman), and therefore, I would need to have a repeat cesarean scheduled. Before this conclusion, she basically berated me for several minutes as to why I would even want a VBAC, pulling out the dead baby card by saying that because I was SO FAT it would take them up to FIVE MINUTES LONGER to get to my baby if something happened that more than likely my baby would die and I didn't want my baby to DIE, DID I? I kind of mentioned something along the lines of well no, but a cesarean could kill ME but I don't think she heard me. She just went on and on and about risks and how my chance of success were SO LOW because of my HIGH BMI that it was just TOO RISKY for me to even TRY to have a VBAC. So, in other words, I wasn't even going to get a trial of labor. When she passed me off to the nurse, she told the nurse to schedule the cesarean. I had had my birth plan already written up to show her and the nurse wouldn't even look at it. I cried. I had gone through SO MUCH getting to this point and I felt emotionally crushed and I just cried. I don't think I even scheduled it, just scheduled a bunch of appointments and maybe went through a few things for the birth plan (in as far as a cesarean) and then I left, kind of out of it. When I got back to the hotel, I started thinking and I started getting MAD. HOW DARE SHE?! No, I was NOT going to put up with that kind of attitude. I did NOT travel 6000 miles to have this WOMAN treat me that way! That was NOT why I came back to the US!
I called a friend of mine, Tami, and talked to her and it wasn't long after that that she presented an idea that I feel was the absolute turning point of the whole thing. She offered me a place to stay for the summer (I was actually looking into doing a sublease deal for the summer because I had no other options for housing) and she offered to help me out with the midwife she had had when she had her youngest daughter (who was born right around the time I conceived my older daughter). We had actually met on ICAN back when I had joined after Natalie was born and had kept in touch off and on throughout the last four years. I was really surprised that she offered to take me in considering we didn't know each other THAT well but she truly is one of those people who helps those who are in need whenever and however she can. So on Sunday, May 23rd, she picked me up from the hotel and we went down to Iowa for my first appointment with the midwife. Brenda was awesome. We talked a bit and made plans to see each other again. I made plans to get my medical records from Natalie's birth. In the meantime, as we were trying to figure out how to get it all to work, I made an appointment with OB/GYN at the other hospital since we weren't sure if it could all be pulled off and I was getting into my 33rd week of pregnancy. So I went in in early June (due date was July 17) to get something set up.
The OB I was put with was okay. It was a male which I wasn't sure about in the first place (feel more comfortable with females in general). But, on the whole, he was a little more positive and supportive about my chance for a VBAC than the last OB was. While his recommendation would be for a repeat cesarean, he felt that if he did not at least support my attempt to have a VBAC, I would just leave and go to a midwife and he felt that was even more dangerous (crickets kind of sounded after he said that because that was pretty much exactly what I was doing!). I would have to sign a bunch of papers that would say I'm doing this AMA and we would go over everything we needed to go over (like my birth plan which, I do have to say, he did go over very thoroughly with me and explained to me what could be done and what could not be done due to hospital policies so in that regard, he was pretty good). He had me do an ultrasound, baby was fine and within normal size (at least not showing to be excessively large especially since my older daughter was over 9 lbs at birth) and he seemed less concerned when he had taken a look at my scar (which is almost invisible and is at the bikini line). Baby was showing to be head down so it was just a matter of doing the last several appointments.
In the meantime, I decided to hire the midwife on as montrice. Due to the due date and the timing of things in July, it was possible that since I would need two midwives that we would have to do a montrice situation to begin with if I went into labor before my due date. If it was after my due date, the plan was to do the labor and delivery at a hotel down in Iowa. I wasn't very sure about this. First of all, I wasn't sure about the idea of having two different plans depending on when I went into labor. I also really did not feel comfortable with the idea of going down to Iowa and having the baby at a hotel. It didn't quite meet my idea of a homebirth and I also kind of felt that it would sort of take away some of the benefits of having a homebirth/midwife birth. So, after some thinking, I decided and asked if it would be possible to have the midwife on as just a montrice. And she came back to me saying that that's what we can do and so I think finally, around 35 weeks, everything was in place and I just had to wait. The plan was when I went into labor, to labor at home as long as possible, AT LEAST past where I was when I had the cesarean with Natalie (so past 4 cms, that was important to me), then go to the hospital where my friend Tami would serve as my doula.
My last appointment with the OB was July 5th. When he used the dopplar, it malfunctioned, making some REALLY loud noises. When he used one that worked, he noted that the baby's heart rate was kind of high so had me go and do a NST. Well, during that, I realized that my cell phone was missing so ended up a little panicked which probably didn't help the test and since the heart rate was still a little high, I got sent up to L&D. I KNEW the baby was fine, just likely freaked out by the loud dopplar and my own panicking but got sent up there anyway for several hours only to find out the baby was just fine. Obviously, they weren't overly concerned because my next appointment wasn't set up until July 15--ten days later and two days before my due date. When that day came I decided to cancel the appointment. I realize that it was a gamble and a lot of people probably would judge me for making that kind of decision but the baby had been moving around fine and when I had asked the OB, he told me that he would be doing a cervical check starting at week 39. I didn't want it. I didn't want to be discouraged and I didn't want him to become concerned about something and decide I needed to go up to L&D. If baby didn't come by Tuesday morning, I would go in then. If baby stopped moving, I would go in. If anything didn't feel right, I would go in. In the meantime, I would do a bunch of walking and moving around in hopes of getting things moving. I felt good about that decision and if I was worried, I had a midwife who was a phone call away and a friend/doula who likely knew when to be concerned as well. Now, we just had to wait until Isabelle was ready to come out.
Now that I was in the US, I could really get going. I didn't have much going on because I was staying in a hotel and after I saw everyone the first night I arrived (after a very long, grueling, international flight from Korea to Japan, Japan to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to my home town) I was pretty much left to myself so I called up OB/GYN at the first hospital and scheduled an appointment, hoping to maybe get set up with a midwife there. When I get to my first appointment, the nurse was kind of surprised to hear I was already over 30 weeks. I guess I didn't look that far along because of the extra weight but I was and was very much showing in front but the weight kind of hid it too. They did the glucose testing then and there and I failed it (my fault, I think I over did the Oreos the night before) so they wanted to set up the three hour test at some point during the next week. I was also set up with an OB. I had to see her before I could even see a midwife. In the meantime, I tried to stay with my older sister to save some money on the hotel because it was costing me $200/week. I was there a week already and that had ended. I stayed at my sister's for three days before I realized that it was better for me to stay in the hotel where I was closer to everything, especially since I was trying to watch what I was eating so that I wouldn't fail the three hour test when I finally had it done.
So, Sunday the 16th of May I was back at the hotel and I had appointments scheduled for the next week which included the evil nasty 3 hour glucose testing and an appointment with an OB. The three hour test, as I figured, was evil. I hate needles, hate having my blood drawn, tend to freak out about it. When I had it done during my pregnancy with my older daughter, I almost passed out. I went white, had a bunch of nurses surrounding me with washcloths, had to lie down in another room for about 20 minutes to get my blood pressure back up, in general did not do well. And I would have to endure three or four blood draws. The sugar stuff made me sleepy. I was falling asleep in the waiting room waiting for the blood draw. During the one drawing, the nurse got particularly rough with my inner elbow, rubbing it raw. It just didn't give me warm fuzzy feelings, that's for sure. I wasn't sure about going to this hospital. I had never heard the greatest things about it in as far as its OB/GYN department but wanted to have a clean slate so to emotionally when trying for my VBAC. Should have just gone with the devil I knew, you know?
My appointment with the OB was the next day, I think. I had passed the test (one worry off my mind) but apparently, that didn't matter. My BMI was too high, according to this OB (a woman), and therefore, I would need to have a repeat cesarean scheduled. Before this conclusion, she basically berated me for several minutes as to why I would even want a VBAC, pulling out the dead baby card by saying that because I was SO FAT it would take them up to FIVE MINUTES LONGER to get to my baby if something happened that more than likely my baby would die and I didn't want my baby to DIE, DID I? I kind of mentioned something along the lines of well no, but a cesarean could kill ME but I don't think she heard me. She just went on and on and about risks and how my chance of success were SO LOW because of my HIGH BMI that it was just TOO RISKY for me to even TRY to have a VBAC. So, in other words, I wasn't even going to get a trial of labor. When she passed me off to the nurse, she told the nurse to schedule the cesarean. I had had my birth plan already written up to show her and the nurse wouldn't even look at it. I cried. I had gone through SO MUCH getting to this point and I felt emotionally crushed and I just cried. I don't think I even scheduled it, just scheduled a bunch of appointments and maybe went through a few things for the birth plan (in as far as a cesarean) and then I left, kind of out of it. When I got back to the hotel, I started thinking and I started getting MAD. HOW DARE SHE?! No, I was NOT going to put up with that kind of attitude. I did NOT travel 6000 miles to have this WOMAN treat me that way! That was NOT why I came back to the US!
I called a friend of mine, Tami, and talked to her and it wasn't long after that that she presented an idea that I feel was the absolute turning point of the whole thing. She offered me a place to stay for the summer (I was actually looking into doing a sublease deal for the summer because I had no other options for housing) and she offered to help me out with the midwife she had had when she had her youngest daughter (who was born right around the time I conceived my older daughter). We had actually met on ICAN back when I had joined after Natalie was born and had kept in touch off and on throughout the last four years. I was really surprised that she offered to take me in considering we didn't know each other THAT well but she truly is one of those people who helps those who are in need whenever and however she can. So on Sunday, May 23rd, she picked me up from the hotel and we went down to Iowa for my first appointment with the midwife. Brenda was awesome. We talked a bit and made plans to see each other again. I made plans to get my medical records from Natalie's birth. In the meantime, as we were trying to figure out how to get it all to work, I made an appointment with OB/GYN at the other hospital since we weren't sure if it could all be pulled off and I was getting into my 33rd week of pregnancy. So I went in in early June (due date was July 17) to get something set up.
The OB I was put with was okay. It was a male which I wasn't sure about in the first place (feel more comfortable with females in general). But, on the whole, he was a little more positive and supportive about my chance for a VBAC than the last OB was. While his recommendation would be for a repeat cesarean, he felt that if he did not at least support my attempt to have a VBAC, I would just leave and go to a midwife and he felt that was even more dangerous (crickets kind of sounded after he said that because that was pretty much exactly what I was doing!). I would have to sign a bunch of papers that would say I'm doing this AMA and we would go over everything we needed to go over (like my birth plan which, I do have to say, he did go over very thoroughly with me and explained to me what could be done and what could not be done due to hospital policies so in that regard, he was pretty good). He had me do an ultrasound, baby was fine and within normal size (at least not showing to be excessively large especially since my older daughter was over 9 lbs at birth) and he seemed less concerned when he had taken a look at my scar (which is almost invisible and is at the bikini line). Baby was showing to be head down so it was just a matter of doing the last several appointments.
In the meantime, I decided to hire the midwife on as montrice. Due to the due date and the timing of things in July, it was possible that since I would need two midwives that we would have to do a montrice situation to begin with if I went into labor before my due date. If it was after my due date, the plan was to do the labor and delivery at a hotel down in Iowa. I wasn't very sure about this. First of all, I wasn't sure about the idea of having two different plans depending on when I went into labor. I also really did not feel comfortable with the idea of going down to Iowa and having the baby at a hotel. It didn't quite meet my idea of a homebirth and I also kind of felt that it would sort of take away some of the benefits of having a homebirth/midwife birth. So, after some thinking, I decided and asked if it would be possible to have the midwife on as just a montrice. And she came back to me saying that that's what we can do and so I think finally, around 35 weeks, everything was in place and I just had to wait. The plan was when I went into labor, to labor at home as long as possible, AT LEAST past where I was when I had the cesarean with Natalie (so past 4 cms, that was important to me), then go to the hospital where my friend Tami would serve as my doula.
My last appointment with the OB was July 5th. When he used the dopplar, it malfunctioned, making some REALLY loud noises. When he used one that worked, he noted that the baby's heart rate was kind of high so had me go and do a NST. Well, during that, I realized that my cell phone was missing so ended up a little panicked which probably didn't help the test and since the heart rate was still a little high, I got sent up to L&D. I KNEW the baby was fine, just likely freaked out by the loud dopplar and my own panicking but got sent up there anyway for several hours only to find out the baby was just fine. Obviously, they weren't overly concerned because my next appointment wasn't set up until July 15--ten days later and two days before my due date. When that day came I decided to cancel the appointment. I realize that it was a gamble and a lot of people probably would judge me for making that kind of decision but the baby had been moving around fine and when I had asked the OB, he told me that he would be doing a cervical check starting at week 39. I didn't want it. I didn't want to be discouraged and I didn't want him to become concerned about something and decide I needed to go up to L&D. If baby didn't come by Tuesday morning, I would go in then. If baby stopped moving, I would go in. If anything didn't feel right, I would go in. In the meantime, I would do a bunch of walking and moving around in hopes of getting things moving. I felt good about that decision and if I was worried, I had a midwife who was a phone call away and a friend/doula who likely knew when to be concerned as well. Now, we just had to wait until Isabelle was ready to come out.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
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...
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...
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...
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...
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Isabelle's birth story--the long version--Part 2
I found out I was pregnant less than 48 hours after I arrived in the US for a month long vacation (a much needed mental break because I had become so homesick during the seven months I had been in South Korea so far). I started suspecting I was pregnant a couple of days before I left when I reached day 29 and realized I had yet to get my period. Uh oh. Started thinking, realized that I had been especially tired lately, Natalie had been nursing more lately, I had been feeling just a little off...NO, we had been careful! At least, I thought we had been... John agreed. No way are you pregnant, he told me. We even got a bottle of champagne and I had a glass the night before I was to fly off. We were careful. There's no way I'm pregnant. My period is just later this month, still within the 26-31 day window (though usually by day 29 I'm starting to spot and I wasn't but still...).
By the time my plane lands, I'm 12 hours late. My younger sister and the friend I'm staying with for the month both laugh at me. They think I'm being absolutely absurd. Maybe I am. Afterall, stress can affect one's cycles. I was all for rationalizing it though in the back of my mind there was that little thought nagging at me... That little nagging thought really gets going the next night when I start to feel nauseous at my younger sister's inlaws. When I was pregnant with my older daughter, I had gotten a couple of good signs that I was pregnant and a couple of those signs were missing so I wasn't sure. I asked my sister if she ended up finding out she was pregnant without any signs present and she said yes. I couldn't ignore that nagging feeling anymore. I was 36 hours or so late at this point. It was time to pick up a pregnancy test.
We pick up the trusty old digital model from Walmart, the one that tells you in plain words if you are pregnant or not. I get back to my friend's house and I don't even wait until the next morning. I had two tests on hand, I was going to take one now. It didn't even take three minutes before the results came in: PREGNANT. I swore. Yeah, probably not my proudest moment but this was definitely NOT expected at all! I mean, I had ordered cloth menstrual pads for crying out loud, had them sent to my friend's house fully expecting to use them on my period that I would be on when I got to the US for the visit. What's that old saying? People plan, God laughs? God definitely had to have been rolling on the floor and laughing His head off. Ha ha ha. What was really fun was trying to reach my husband with a 15 hour time difference. It took me a day or so before I finally got him on the phone and I had even sent an email saying, "Hey, need to talk to you!". That was kind of funny considering the news I had to tell him and it was definitely the last thing he had expected. His reaction was this sort of shocked, "Wow." Yeah, that about sums up how I was feeling too.
The rest of the month was kind of a jumble of emotions for me. I was scared half out of my mind and absolutely unsure of what to do. As with any pregnancy, there was always the chance that it wouldn't get all the way to term. Granted, I had never had a miscarriage before but I my sisters have and I certainly had risk factors for miscarriages including extra weight and a previous cesarean section. So the plan was to just wait it out, return to Korea, and see what could be done there in as far as having a child over there. I found information on a doula who lived over there online and we decided we would meet up when I returned to Korea. Other than that, there wasn't much else I could do. No sense in seeing a doctor since it was so early in the pregnancy and I wouldn't be setting up care in the US. I just did what I could to enjoy my time there even though at the same time, I was getting hit harder with first trimester pregnancy symptoms (including, oh the irony and the cruelty, morning sickness hitting right in time for Thanksgiving). I also ended up having to replace my computer during that time because I managed to break my laptop's hard drive on the way to the US (tripped and fell at the airport, banging up the computer enough to break the hard drive). It was a vacation that sort of fell flat with everything I was having to deal with. And to add to it, my friend also had a lot she was dealing with at the same time. So when I left December 8 (literally hours before a massive snow storm hit that would close the airport the next day due to 17 inches of snow, I mean, they were deicing the plane as I sat in it listening to--again, the irony--Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow), it was supposed to have been for the last time for possibly two years...at least, that was the plan. Little did I know that I would actually be returning less than five months later...
By the time my plane lands, I'm 12 hours late. My younger sister and the friend I'm staying with for the month both laugh at me. They think I'm being absolutely absurd. Maybe I am. Afterall, stress can affect one's cycles. I was all for rationalizing it though in the back of my mind there was that little thought nagging at me... That little nagging thought really gets going the next night when I start to feel nauseous at my younger sister's inlaws. When I was pregnant with my older daughter, I had gotten a couple of good signs that I was pregnant and a couple of those signs were missing so I wasn't sure. I asked my sister if she ended up finding out she was pregnant without any signs present and she said yes. I couldn't ignore that nagging feeling anymore. I was 36 hours or so late at this point. It was time to pick up a pregnancy test.
We pick up the trusty old digital model from Walmart, the one that tells you in plain words if you are pregnant or not. I get back to my friend's house and I don't even wait until the next morning. I had two tests on hand, I was going to take one now. It didn't even take three minutes before the results came in: PREGNANT. I swore. Yeah, probably not my proudest moment but this was definitely NOT expected at all! I mean, I had ordered cloth menstrual pads for crying out loud, had them sent to my friend's house fully expecting to use them on my period that I would be on when I got to the US for the visit. What's that old saying? People plan, God laughs? God definitely had to have been rolling on the floor and laughing His head off. Ha ha ha. What was really fun was trying to reach my husband with a 15 hour time difference. It took me a day or so before I finally got him on the phone and I had even sent an email saying, "Hey, need to talk to you!". That was kind of funny considering the news I had to tell him and it was definitely the last thing he had expected. His reaction was this sort of shocked, "Wow." Yeah, that about sums up how I was feeling too.
The rest of the month was kind of a jumble of emotions for me. I was scared half out of my mind and absolutely unsure of what to do. As with any pregnancy, there was always the chance that it wouldn't get all the way to term. Granted, I had never had a miscarriage before but I my sisters have and I certainly had risk factors for miscarriages including extra weight and a previous cesarean section. So the plan was to just wait it out, return to Korea, and see what could be done there in as far as having a child over there. I found information on a doula who lived over there online and we decided we would meet up when I returned to Korea. Other than that, there wasn't much else I could do. No sense in seeing a doctor since it was so early in the pregnancy and I wouldn't be setting up care in the US. I just did what I could to enjoy my time there even though at the same time, I was getting hit harder with first trimester pregnancy symptoms (including, oh the irony and the cruelty, morning sickness hitting right in time for Thanksgiving). I also ended up having to replace my computer during that time because I managed to break my laptop's hard drive on the way to the US (tripped and fell at the airport, banging up the computer enough to break the hard drive). It was a vacation that sort of fell flat with everything I was having to deal with. And to add to it, my friend also had a lot she was dealing with at the same time. So when I left December 8 (literally hours before a massive snow storm hit that would close the airport the next day due to 17 inches of snow, I mean, they were deicing the plane as I sat in it listening to--again, the irony--Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow), it was supposed to have been for the last time for possibly two years...at least, that was the plan. Little did I know that I would actually be returning less than five months later...
Isabelle's birth story--the long version--Part 2
I found out I was pregnant less than 48 hours after I arrived in the US for a month long vacation (a much needed mental break because I had become so homesick during the seven months I had been in South Korea so far). I started suspecting I was pregnant a couple of days before I left when I reached day 29 and realized I had yet to get my period. Uh oh. Started thinking, realized that I had been especially tired lately, Natalie had been nursing more lately, I had been feeling just a little off...NO, we had been careful! At least, I thought we had been... John agreed. No way are you pregnant, he told me. We even got a bottle of champagne and I had a glass the night before I was to fly off. We were careful. There's no way I'm pregnant. My period is just later this month, still within the 26-31 day window (though usually by day 29 I'm starting to spot and I wasn't but still...).
By the time my plane lands, I'm 12 hours late. My younger sister and the friend I'm staying with for the month both laugh at me. They think I'm being absolutely absurd. Maybe I am. Afterall, stress can affect one's cycles. I was all for rationalizing it though in the back of my mind there was that little thought nagging at me... That little nagging thought really gets going the next night when I start to feel nauseous at my younger sister's inlaws. When I was pregnant with my older daughter, I had gotten a couple of good signs that I was pregnant and a couple of those signs were missing so I wasn't sure. I asked my sister if she ended up finding out she was pregnant without any signs present and she said yes. I couldn't ignore that nagging feeling anymore. I was 36 hours or so late at this point. It was time to pick up a pregnancy test.
We pick up the trusty old digital model from Walmart, the one that tells you in plain words if you are pregnant or not. I get back to my friend's house and I don't even wait until the next morning. I had two tests on hand, I was going to take one now. It didn't even take three minutes before the results came in: PREGNANT. I swore. Yeah, probably not my proudest moment but this was definitely NOT expected at all! I mean, I had ordered cloth menstrual pads for crying out loud, had them sent to my friend's house fully expecting to use them on my period that I would be on when I got to the US for the visit. What's that old saying? People plan, God laughs? God definitely had to have been rolling on the floor and laughing His head off. Ha ha ha. What was really fun was trying to reach my husband with a 15 hour time difference. It took me a day or so before I finally got him on the phone and I had even sent an email saying, "Hey, need to talk to you!". That was kind of funny considering the news I had to tell him and it was definitely the last thing he had expected. His reaction was this sort of shocked, "Wow." Yeah, that about sums up how I was feeling too.
The rest of the month was kind of a jumble of emotions for me. I was scared half out of my mind and absolutely unsure of what to do. As with any pregnancy, there was always the chance that it wouldn't get all the way to term. Granted, I had never had a miscarriage before but I my sisters have and I certainly had risk factors for miscarriages including extra weight and a previous cesarean section. So the plan was to just wait it out, return to Korea, and see what could be done there in as far as having a child over there. I found information on a doula who lived over there online and we decided we would meet up when I returned to Korea. Other than that, there wasn't much else I could do. No sense in seeing a doctor since it was so early in the pregnancy and I wouldn't be setting up care in the US. I just did what I could to enjoy my time there even though at the same time, I was getting hit harder with first trimester pregnancy symptoms (including, oh the irony and the cruelty, morning sickness hitting right in time for Thanksgiving). I also ended up having to replace my computer during that time because I managed to break my laptop's hard drive on the way to the US (tripped and fell at the airport, banging up the computer enough to break the hard drive). It was a vacation that sort of fell flat with everything I was having to deal with. And to add to it, my friend also had a lot she was dealing with at the same time. So when I left December 8 (literally hours before a massive snow storm hit that would close the airport the next day due to 17 inches of snow, I mean, they were deicing the plane as I sat in it listening to--again, the irony--Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow), it was supposed to have been for the last time for possibly two years...at least, that was the plan. Little did I know that I would actually be returning less than five months later...
By the time my plane lands, I'm 12 hours late. My younger sister and the friend I'm staying with for the month both laugh at me. They think I'm being absolutely absurd. Maybe I am. Afterall, stress can affect one's cycles. I was all for rationalizing it though in the back of my mind there was that little thought nagging at me... That little nagging thought really gets going the next night when I start to feel nauseous at my younger sister's inlaws. When I was pregnant with my older daughter, I had gotten a couple of good signs that I was pregnant and a couple of those signs were missing so I wasn't sure. I asked my sister if she ended up finding out she was pregnant without any signs present and she said yes. I couldn't ignore that nagging feeling anymore. I was 36 hours or so late at this point. It was time to pick up a pregnancy test.
We pick up the trusty old digital model from Walmart, the one that tells you in plain words if you are pregnant or not. I get back to my friend's house and I don't even wait until the next morning. I had two tests on hand, I was going to take one now. It didn't even take three minutes before the results came in: PREGNANT. I swore. Yeah, probably not my proudest moment but this was definitely NOT expected at all! I mean, I had ordered cloth menstrual pads for crying out loud, had them sent to my friend's house fully expecting to use them on my period that I would be on when I got to the US for the visit. What's that old saying? People plan, God laughs? God definitely had to have been rolling on the floor and laughing His head off. Ha ha ha. What was really fun was trying to reach my husband with a 15 hour time difference. It took me a day or so before I finally got him on the phone and I had even sent an email saying, "Hey, need to talk to you!". That was kind of funny considering the news I had to tell him and it was definitely the last thing he had expected. His reaction was this sort of shocked, "Wow." Yeah, that about sums up how I was feeling too.
The rest of the month was kind of a jumble of emotions for me. I was scared half out of my mind and absolutely unsure of what to do. As with any pregnancy, there was always the chance that it wouldn't get all the way to term. Granted, I had never had a miscarriage before but I my sisters have and I certainly had risk factors for miscarriages including extra weight and a previous cesarean section. So the plan was to just wait it out, return to Korea, and see what could be done there in as far as having a child over there. I found information on a doula who lived over there online and we decided we would meet up when I returned to Korea. Other than that, there wasn't much else I could do. No sense in seeing a doctor since it was so early in the pregnancy and I wouldn't be setting up care in the US. I just did what I could to enjoy my time there even though at the same time, I was getting hit harder with first trimester pregnancy symptoms (including, oh the irony and the cruelty, morning sickness hitting right in time for Thanksgiving). I also ended up having to replace my computer during that time because I managed to break my laptop's hard drive on the way to the US (tripped and fell at the airport, banging up the computer enough to break the hard drive). It was a vacation that sort of fell flat with everything I was having to deal with. And to add to it, my friend also had a lot she was dealing with at the same time. So when I left December 8 (literally hours before a massive snow storm hit that would close the airport the next day due to 17 inches of snow, I mean, they were deicing the plane as I sat in it listening to--again, the irony--Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow), it was supposed to have been for the last time for possibly two years...at least, that was the plan. Little did I know that I would actually be returning less than five months later...
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Isabelle's birth story--the long version--Part 1
A blog highlighting the topic that is near and dear to all mothers, the moment we became mothers (found here: http://www.themompledgeblog.com/search/label/Defining%20Moments) and the fact that May 6 will mark two years since I returned to the United States for the last leg of my pregnancy journey have me thinking about what I went through to bring my youngest into the world almost two years ago. It was quite an emotional and very unexpected journey. My husband and definitely did not anticipate that we would be having another child so soon even though our oldest was almost 4 when I became pregnant again. We hadn't even really decided if we were going to have another child when I became pregnant but life has a funny way of happening while you're busy making other plans.
The birth of our oldest daughter, Natalie, did not go at all the way I wanted it to. I had planned to have as natural a birth as possible but it all went awry when I was hit with back labor in the early morning hours of December 26, 2005. The whole story is here: http://theworldofnatalie.blogspot.com/2006/02/miss-natalie-has-arrived.html
It was one of those situations where I had never felt so out of control in my life. It was absolutely not at all what I had expected my daughter's birth to do. I felt more like I was just watching it all unfold and not part of it at all. And afterward, a number of things happened that just made those feelings worse. She had to get poked many times because of her weight which meant concerns with blood sugars. They were low (big surprise, I hadn't eaten in hours by the time she was born) so they gave us the choice to either give her formula or she would have to go to the NICU and have an IV put in her forehead. We didn't want her to have any formula at all but felt we had absolutely no choice in the matter whatsoever and that was hard on me, especially when later on I read all the stuff on the virgin gut and how anything other than breastmilk is detrimental for a baby. There was the fight my husband had with the pediatrician because he didn't want her to get the Vitamin K shot. I told him to go along with it though because I was worried about any complications from her traumatic birth. I had her get the eye drops too because of all the meconium not knowing that it's really only needed in the event of an STD which I absolutely did not have.
The hospital stay was a nightmare. I was SO exhausted but wasn't allowed to sleep because I was nursing. It seemed like every time I was finally able to go to sleep, I would be woken up to feed her. They would wake her up too and most of the nights, she would cry and it would be this squealing cry. She was very fussy her first few days of life because of all the poking she went through. The first nice a nurse even got frustrated with her! I was stuck to the bed and couldn't do anything and felt SO helpless! My husband worked nights so I was alone and tired and so horribly overwhelmed already. Our second to last day there, I sent her to the nursery to try and get some sleep. When she came back, she had a band aid on her foot. They had done the newborn screening without even asking us or telling us that they had done it. I was FURIOUS! More poking which meant another night of her being fussy. Friday came and though I would have been allowed to stay another night, I was DONE. I wanted to go home. By that point, I was in TEARS when the ped came in to do a check up and woke my daughter up again! My milk still hadn't come in yet and my nipples looked horrible. It was an absolute nightmare. And it didn't end then. For the next 15 weeks, I went through horrible pain while breastfeeding and almost gave up many many times. I did manage to continue despite all of this and nursed her until 10 weeks before her sister was born, when I left South Korea for the last time.
Still, due to that horror story of a beginning, the last thing I wanted to do was have another baby. One was enough. I could live with having an only child. And the older she got, the more I was okay with it. We didn't need another baby. I blocked out what happened as best as I could and tried not to think about it. I couldn't deal with what happened. I had gone through witnessing a murder only two and a half years before my daughter's birth as well as two murder trials and numerous court hearings and dealing with having my parents put in prison. Caring for a baby was too difficult of a job to deal with one more trauma in my life. I would just not have another baby and therefore, would not have to worry about dealing with all of this again. It took me six months to become pregnant with her so obviously, it would take some work to get pregnant with another one again. Enough said. Besides, my husband didn't want another one, we were both happy with having one, there was no need to even think about having another baby.
And so we didn't until our oldest started talking about wanting a little brother or sister. She would watch commercials on TV with babies and talk about how that baby was SO cute and why don't we have another baby. I remember saying to her one night to ask her daddy. So, when John came home from work, she did. We were in South Korea though and a pregnancy at this point would not be ideal but the thought was trickling in my mind that maybe we would think about trying again just before we leave...maybe. Apparently, the universe listens to the wishes of children more than it listens to those of adults because it wasn't long after that that I became pregnant.
The birth of our oldest daughter, Natalie, did not go at all the way I wanted it to. I had planned to have as natural a birth as possible but it all went awry when I was hit with back labor in the early morning hours of December 26, 2005. The whole story is here: http://theworldofnatalie.blogspot.com/2006/02/miss-natalie-has-arrived.html
It was one of those situations where I had never felt so out of control in my life. It was absolutely not at all what I had expected my daughter's birth to do. I felt more like I was just watching it all unfold and not part of it at all. And afterward, a number of things happened that just made those feelings worse. She had to get poked many times because of her weight which meant concerns with blood sugars. They were low (big surprise, I hadn't eaten in hours by the time she was born) so they gave us the choice to either give her formula or she would have to go to the NICU and have an IV put in her forehead. We didn't want her to have any formula at all but felt we had absolutely no choice in the matter whatsoever and that was hard on me, especially when later on I read all the stuff on the virgin gut and how anything other than breastmilk is detrimental for a baby. There was the fight my husband had with the pediatrician because he didn't want her to get the Vitamin K shot. I told him to go along with it though because I was worried about any complications from her traumatic birth. I had her get the eye drops too because of all the meconium not knowing that it's really only needed in the event of an STD which I absolutely did not have.
The hospital stay was a nightmare. I was SO exhausted but wasn't allowed to sleep because I was nursing. It seemed like every time I was finally able to go to sleep, I would be woken up to feed her. They would wake her up too and most of the nights, she would cry and it would be this squealing cry. She was very fussy her first few days of life because of all the poking she went through. The first nice a nurse even got frustrated with her! I was stuck to the bed and couldn't do anything and felt SO helpless! My husband worked nights so I was alone and tired and so horribly overwhelmed already. Our second to last day there, I sent her to the nursery to try and get some sleep. When she came back, she had a band aid on her foot. They had done the newborn screening without even asking us or telling us that they had done it. I was FURIOUS! More poking which meant another night of her being fussy. Friday came and though I would have been allowed to stay another night, I was DONE. I wanted to go home. By that point, I was in TEARS when the ped came in to do a check up and woke my daughter up again! My milk still hadn't come in yet and my nipples looked horrible. It was an absolute nightmare. And it didn't end then. For the next 15 weeks, I went through horrible pain while breastfeeding and almost gave up many many times. I did manage to continue despite all of this and nursed her until 10 weeks before her sister was born, when I left South Korea for the last time.
Still, due to that horror story of a beginning, the last thing I wanted to do was have another baby. One was enough. I could live with having an only child. And the older she got, the more I was okay with it. We didn't need another baby. I blocked out what happened as best as I could and tried not to think about it. I couldn't deal with what happened. I had gone through witnessing a murder only two and a half years before my daughter's birth as well as two murder trials and numerous court hearings and dealing with having my parents put in prison. Caring for a baby was too difficult of a job to deal with one more trauma in my life. I would just not have another baby and therefore, would not have to worry about dealing with all of this again. It took me six months to become pregnant with her so obviously, it would take some work to get pregnant with another one again. Enough said. Besides, my husband didn't want another one, we were both happy with having one, there was no need to even think about having another baby.
And so we didn't until our oldest started talking about wanting a little brother or sister. She would watch commercials on TV with babies and talk about how that baby was SO cute and why don't we have another baby. I remember saying to her one night to ask her daddy. So, when John came home from work, she did. We were in South Korea though and a pregnancy at this point would not be ideal but the thought was trickling in my mind that maybe we would think about trying again just before we leave...maybe. Apparently, the universe listens to the wishes of children more than it listens to those of adults because it wasn't long after that that I became pregnant.
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