(If you know me in real life, please refrain from discussing this situation over the phone, facebook, or across the dinner table. I'm serious. And yes, that even applies to my mother, my sister, and any other females who share my DNA.)
I don't know what the deal is, but I'm a big, fat, ball of nerves today. Last night I woke up to pee around 2 o'clock and watched the minutes tick by until 5:30, when I finally fell asleep again. I've got to say, that for those three and a half hours, my mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of my midwife moving to stinking West Virginia.
And that is precisely why my husband, who spent his morning with a naturopath, an acupuncturist, and an aromatherapist got the following text message this morning:
Can u get some kind of calming potion from the calmologist who
you're meeting with today? I'm not joking. I'm wound up so tight.
Well apparently he didn't get the text until all three of those hipped-up alternative care providers were puttering away in their Prius (carpooling, duh), and there will be no magical, herbal, calming potion for this girl tonight.
Perhaps a frying pan to the head will work just as well.
I'm not sure how it happened, but in my mind, I set myself up to need my midwife more that I probably really do. I had a plan A, B & C for how I wanted things to go, and somehow she ended up as the star player in each of those scenarios. Not me, not Jared, not the baby--but the midwife.
And really now, who is this about? Right. That would be me, Jared, and the baby--not the midwife.
I guess I feel extra reliant on her because I met her at a time when I was feeling super, super vulnerable. Pregnancy after a loss is a very scary thing (which is the understatement of the universe), and somehow she really helped me through the initial uncertainty of it all. She was kind of like my security blanket. With boobs.
On top of that, I had a c-section with James. And as easy as the recovery was, it's definitely not something I'm hoping to repeat. The good news is, as long as this little girl stays head down, it shouldn't be an issue. I went into labor with James on my own, I progressed really quickly, and if he hadn't have been in a transverse kind of lay, I'm sure the whole experience would have been smooth as silk. Silk that stabs you in the abdomen with a rusty knife over and over and over again, but you know, details details.
So yeah, I'm going for a VBAC--vaginal birth after cesarean (sorry guys, for using the V word on my blog)--and Jared and the midwife were in a dead tie as my number one fan. Now, for the time being, my only fan is Jared, and as much as I love the man, I know for a fact that he has no foam finger and he's very under experienced as a labor coach.
So now she's gone, I'm going to see a new midwife who I've never ever met, and I'm an absolute basketcase. Yes, I've had friends who've used this woman, and they all seem to place her on a pedestal next to Jesus, Moses, and Betty Crocker--but as far as I know, she's not on call 24/7. I could end up with someone else.
Me. Over here. Basketcase. Have I mentioned that yet?
I completely trust two out of the three physicians in this practice, so that's a good thing. This hospital is way over-the-top as far as natural birth and breastfeeding go (we're talking water births, doctors trained in hypnobirthing, very low c-section rate, no pacifiers allowed), so that's a great thing, too.
But that third physician? Yoinks.
I said to Jared, "If I end up with her, I swear I'll be the only documented case of a woman who got a c-section and an episiotomy for the very same labor. Just watch." He agreed.
So I'm all worked up.
And all of the sudden I feel completely ill-prepared for this upcoming labor and delivery. I mean really, why would I have needed any kind of refresher course when I had my magical midwife by my side?
So now I have nine weeks to turn Jared Lawson into something equally magical. Wish me luck.
Last night, after reading Dooce's labor & delivery story I was like, "Jared, all I'm asking is that you make me feel like a flowing lawn ornament in the palm of your almighty hand."
And he was all, "I have no idea how to do that, or even what you're taking about."
We've got a long way to go--a new midwife to meet, four-hundred-thirty-two podcasts to listen to, sixty-four books to read, sixteen cheers to learn, and oh yeah, I'm hoping to achieve the highly sought after state of nirvana. I've heard it's excellent.
If my head pops off, please don't act surprised.