Mila's Story Begins: The Prologue
Thirty-nine weeks.
It turns out THAT is the point at which I do something about the "uneasy."
At my thirty-eight week appointment with what turned out to be a 9 lb 6 oz ball of awesome named Mila, my doctor finally seemed to have come to his senses and recognize that we were not in for a truly tiny Tiny Human. At that appointment, he stated that I could continue to consider a VBAC, but that we wouldn't be going past 41 weeks. Period. End of story.
But then at my thirty-nine week appointment, Dr. Know It All tilted his hand of cards and something seemed ... not right.
After determining that Mila was still "sky high" and that a whole ball of nothing was happening, he officially ruled out induction. Risks with induction and VBAC and blah, blah, blah were enough for him to just plain take that option off of the table.
Then he took a late ultrasound to check size off of the table as well.
And it seemed ... not right.
Long of the short, he said that he saw no reason to do an ultrasound to check size because women have big babies all the time. "You shouldn't have any problems with a VBAC," he said. "Don't waste your money," he said. "Ultrasounds are wrong anyway," he said.
I still don't know what that all adds up to, but the fact of the matter is that I wanted to go the VBAC route. Why get major surgery if you don't have to? I wanted to buy what he was selling. So, while I could have scheduled a c-section on my way out the door, I didn't. Instead, I scheduled my forty-week appointment, knowing full well I would be there because there was no way anything would happen anytime soon.
Everything was set up to go the way I wanted it to (other than the whole part where nobody handed the Tiny Human an instruction manual on which way was out). I figured I would wait it out and everything would be just fine.
I left the office with that plan and promptly headed to Dunkin' Donuts. I figure that any time someone shoves their hand somewhere it doesn't belong, I deserve a donut. Or five. As I was shoving said donut or five in my face, I just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. AT ALL.
I knew what I had to do.
I picked up the phone and called the doctor's office and scheduled Plan B. I scheduled a c-section for as far out as seemed reasonable. I even scheduled it around Dr. Know It All's rotation because I figured if Plan B became a thing, I wanted to avoid him.
With the appointment set, the waiting game began. And HOLY CRAP was it a wait.
False labor started late Friday and never did end. 20-30 second contractions started to pepper my days and nights, making it harder and harder to do much of anything. Sleeping became a joke as erratic and completely pointless contractions riddled my nights. And days. And everything in between.
Six days later, the time came for Plan B. I wasn't disappointed AT ALL. I was stupid relieved. There is no way that I could have dealt with even a few more hours of pointless contractions that were doing exactly nothing other than hurting and being stupid and pointless.
Not long after the "stupid and pointless" was confirmed by a doctor, something else was confirmed.
Mila was a big baby. Obviously.
But she wasn't just weight big -- her head was big, too.
Déjà vu, anyone? Because we have played this game before. It's name is Alexis and it's clearly spelled out in my medical records that she was born via c-section because of lack of progress and a large head. General size was an issue, but it wasn't really her weight that caused the drama. It was her head. It was all known facts because a late term ultrasound clearly laid out the facts.
Mila's head was 1/2 inch bigger than Alexis'. 15 full inches of beautiful and perfect, in fact.
She wasn't going anywhere on her own. She hadn't dropped because she couldn't drop and no amount of labor in the world was going to fix it all.
It obviously all worked itself out in the end and Mila is perfect and amazing and wonderful, but HOOBOY am I annoyed with myself for not acting further on the uneasy and forcing the issue on an ultrasound. But, at least I scheduled that c-section.
These big-headed girls are going to rule the world.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Reader Comments (15)
I know all about big babies, and doctors are in denial. I am glad that Mila is out and healthy.
I know all about big babies, and doctors are in denial. I am glad that Mila is out and healthy.
Big headed babies FTW!! My boys' heads were both off the chart (literally) the whole time they measured heads!
Congratulations! She is adorable! Just out of curiosity were you thinking Tiny Human was going to be a girl? Sorry you didn't get the VBAC you were hoping for, but looks like everything worked out how it was supposed to. I can't trust ultrasounds. My OB insisited my middle son was big that he was just going to be HUGE 90th percentile they kept telling me. Then he came out a 5 pound peanut so you never know!
Big heads to hold amazing big brains.
And I ADORE her name. x
1st and most importantly - congratulations on your new beautiful baby girl. You sure know how to grow beautiful baby girls!
2nd - Dr. Know-it-all kind of scares me. I'm glad you're done with him.
I was told Social Diva was an average 7 lb baby. One emergency c-section later, hello 10 lb 15 oz baby!
Love the pic of the girls! Glad everyone is doing well.
Big headed girls are awesome. Says one. :)
Those are two beautiful girls you have there! Congratulations!
You make beautiful children! Congrats.
Mila is beautiful. Congratulations on your adorable family.
Sheer gorgeousness <3
They are both beautiful
More room to stuff all the stories and secrets and all sorts of things Big Sis will teach her. Look out, Mama. ;-)
i love that i will be able to share hats with your girls.
:)