So, I went in for my scheduled c-section on April 11 at 5 am. Scarlett was already giving me labor pains 3-4 minutes apart; so this was her day ready or not! The nurses on the OB floor were all whispering about me. Isn't she our lactation counselor? Why is she having a repeat c-section. She would be a perfect candidate for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean section)? And, they are right. I would be. And this was the looks I was used to from the last ten months of judgment when I would tell people I was doing a repeat by choice. But I couldn't shake it! Everytime I would pray about it or even think about a VBAC this overwhelming dread would come over me. I shared this with some of my friends and a couple of nurses that I work with - I just felt like I would hemorrhage or maybe even die if I had a vaginal birth. I'd felt that way my whole life. So, when I had to do an emergency c-section on my first one, I felt a little relieved. But, fear is normal, I would tell myself. Everyone is afraid, but this was different.
So, in the middle of my repeat, my nurse turns to me and says, "Hey, you were right. If you would have delivered vaginally you would have hemorrhaged and we would have had to do an emergency hysterectomy on you to try and save your life." Excuse me...what was that? And then my doctor preceded to tell me that I had something called placenta increta which google shared with me is a disorder where the placenta embeds too deeply in the uterus and causes major damage when delivered, sometimes into your muscle, sometimes into your organs. And it gets worse with each pregnancy. Thankfully, we had decided not to have any more, so the doc just tied things up and called it a day.
A friend of mine heard me share this and told me a lady in her church died last year who had the same thing. They weren't able to get enough blood to her in time...I can't imagine my children being without their mother.
I can't imagine what would have happened had I listened to the seemingly sound voices around me. I'm just thankful for that still small voice that guides me sometimes without me even knowing to the right or to the left.