Wednesday, October 7, 2009
I'm 38 and 1/2 weeks pregnant. I haven't slept in two nights. But tonight...tonight I'm going to sleep. I drank my TeePee Dreams. I took two Calms Forte. I swallowed three dropperfuls of Sleepytime drops. I am tinctured, tabbed and tea-ed to the hilt.

And it works. Until the pain hits. Oh god. I can't believe this is happening. There's no way. Could this? Nooooo. But...At first I fight it. You see, I've never felt these pains before. I'm 32 years old and I've never felt anything like this so I'm not sure that this is really it, you know? So I lay in bed. I flip from one side to the other, which is not an easy feat at this point. I straighten my bottom leg. I bend both legs. I put my arm up over my head. I drape my other arm over an extra pillow. I sigh. I flip back over to the side I was on. I readjust my pillows once again. And finally, I concede. Holy shit. This is it. These pains can only mean one thing...

Yup. For the first time in my life, I am about to go downstairs and have ... a midnight snack. I have never had a midnight snack before. Now, I'm not saying that I've never eaten this late before. No, I have stood in a drunk-ass pizza line at 3am with the best of them. I have sat around and munched on cold and congealed cheese dip while playing Cranium well into the night. But I have never in my life gotten up out of bed to eat because the hunger was so much that I couldn't bear it. Hunger has never interrupted what otherwise promised to be a good night's sleep. Nope. Never.

I know what you were thinking. You thought I was going into labor. Yeah, wouldn't that be nice? But alas, for reasons I am not ready to discuss, I am scheduled for my second and last C-section on Sunday. No VBAC for me. And now that I've had a few days to process it, I'm as ok as I can be. I'm terribly disappointed. I'm heartbroken. I cried my eyes out the day I found out and I still get a little choked up thinking about it. But in the end, when it comes down to it, like any good mother, I can't make the selfish choice. I can't make the choice that would make me happy, knowing that there's any potential for harm to my child. Like any mother will tell you, the sacrifices you make for your baby begin before she's even born, and you make these sacrifices so often and so willingly, that they become second nature.

"Mama, I want more." On this chilly fall morning, I looked down at my bowl of oatmeal, the perfect consistency with just the right amount of butter - the last of the butter. And like the half-full bowl of oatmeal I passed across the table to a still-hungry E, I pass this across the table to B. Without a second thought. This is just the first of a lifetime of sacrifices I will make on her behalf. And as hard as some of those sacrifices will be, as much as they will tear me up inside, each and every time, I will do it with love and without remorse. Although sometimes I might not be able to keep from thinking, "Oh, for Pete's Sake. You've got two legs. Get your own oatmeal."

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