Stories

I wrote in my other journal a while ago how in May Carl and I would wind up at the Crowne Plaza in Ottawa 4 days a week. He would go to work, and I would write in the morning and then walk and then come back to the hotel in time for Life Network's Adoption Stories, being careful to miss the show before (Birth Stories). And I would lie in the king sized bed in front of the cable tv and sob through the show.

At that time I could perhaps see a day when we might adopt a, you know, guaranteed alive on arrival child, but I couldn't see growing one and all that implied. In fact though, I wasn't watching it to figure out what to do next. That was just kind of my way of taking a half hour to cry every day and wallow in it, so that I could get on with the other 23.5 hrs.

I also felt guilty. We don't install cable into our own homes (although I seem to be doing fine using the cable here) and the only birth story I'd watched had been the one at the pre-natal classes. I still have some feelings that if only I'd been better informed about the pushing stage we might have flipped out and gotten a c-section, and at that time they were really overwhelming. Plus I didn't want to watch other people taking home their squealing newborns.

This week I watched my first Birth Stories. It happened sort of accidently; I was flipping channels and they were showing a c-section, and I thought this time I'd better watch and see what I might be in for if we opt for that.

The first thing about the c-section was it looked very violent to me; the mum didn't opt for total numbness I guess and she kept saying it felt weird and full of pressure. Then the doctors wrestled (or so it looked to me) the baby out of her stomach, tugging the baby out and not gently lifting the way I suppose I thought it would be. Then, of course, she couldn't hold the baby right away.

And then the baby started crying, and so did I. Emily never cried; the only sounds we heard her make were those breaths that were noisy and chirpy and then gasping. It was hard to watch. Really hard. I try not to spend too much time being envious of other parents; so many bad things can happen to kids and raging at everyone to whom those things don't happen doesn't help much. But of course I loathed them all anyway, the smug Life Network parents who end up with healthy breathing babies.

But I guess it was time. This time I want to know everything; what's more it is in a sense getting to where we can actually do it. One way or another the baby has to come out, if we get there. I'm increasingly unsure about a c-section, but I'm not sure how I feel about an induction - that seems like a way to set up a bad labour, which will be bad enough anyway.

We'll see.

I don't yet feel like I might be among the parents who end up on the good side. But if taking pre-natal vitamins and not physically overdoing, and not ingesting bad things, and eating and resting can manage that, I certainly have been going that far.

Today I feel pretty low-energy; I've been doing well on food, but only got 8 hours of sleep last night (which used to be plenty). It'll be an early night I think.

Saturday is Emily's birthday. Around this time last year I was just coming down with the stomach flu. I was nervous about leaving work soon. And I was bitching about a flame war.

I do wish I'd danced more, but now I find myself scared to let myself go that far. Maybe once I can really feel the baby move. You're not supposed to be able to yet, but I think I have felt flutters a few times now, when witch baby gets scraping up against the right spot.

Shandra