On Thursday I saw my OB and learned that I'd made some slight progress since my last appointment with her. I was 2.5 cm (barely) and between 80-90 percent effaced. She "swept" my membranes in an effort to get labor going, and then asked me to whip out my calendar and schedule my induction.
She had told me about this possibility since day one. I have gestational diabetes and she would induce at 39 weeks. I'd heard it, but I'd never, ever really processed it, as in my mind, I would never see 39 weeks in this pregnancy.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to stomp my feet. But I didn't. I came in a little on the offensive that day. Ready to argue over the induction. Ready to refuse. I think my Dr. was startled at my defiance. She refuted the "information" I was presenting about increased c-section rates and harm to the baby and calmly explained how the induction works and why it's medically necessary.
I again argued that my gestational diabetes was completely in control and that the baby was not measuring large. She said her concern was my placenta. GD patient's placentas aren't as functioning as non GD moms and there is a higher risk of still birth beyond 39 weeks.
I argued that my non stress tests, meant to observe my placental efficiency were all passed in the minimum amount of time. Never once raising an eyebrow. She said that didn't really matter. The testing was only done to see if I needed to be induced sooner than later and was done twice a week because the passing of the tests "expired" after a few days.
I could tell she was getting a little defensive, I've been seeing this woman for 7 years, and I know she'd never seen me like this and she was surprised. I told her I trusted her and that after what I've gone through, with losing a baby, I didn't want to go against her advice. I leveled with her and explained that I just felt like this whole pregnancy was abnormal-and the one thing I wanted was a "normal" birth. I acknowledge there's no such thing-they are all different. But the whole-"it's time" moment, the laboring at home, the drive to the hospital-the will we make it? The craziness of it all was what I wanted. I wanted to feel like a normal pregannt woman.
I told her I was in no rush to have the baby. I'm not uncomfortable. I'm not tired of being pregnant. This last month has been the best month so far, as I feel like I can live a normal life and the worry and anxiety over a preemie has been lifted. I want my last week!
She said Monday. I twisted my head hastily and took a defiant breath. She just stared at me-right in the eye and said it was for the best. I begged for Wednesday-give me until then. But she repeated, Monday.
"I wouldnt' be surprised if you are in labor on your own by then. Don't stress". I realized she could be right. I still had a chance. A short window-but it was there. I hoped her "vigorous" exam was enough to get things going and I signed my induction papers for her.
I had my last non stress test right after that appointment and since I was early, I took the opportunity to "run" up 6 flights of stairs, in an effort to get things going. Unfortunately that created nothing more than a heaving chest and sweaty back. Almost every old wives tale has been attempted at this point.
Now it's Saturday night. Almost Sunday morning and I haven't a hint of labor. I made the mistake of reading more about inductions and more about the risks it brings to the baby, to me and more about the risk of cesarean. Now I can't sleep. Now I feel frustrated.
What a lesson this all has been for me. I don't entirely cast myself as "type A" but I do like order and I do like being in control. I've never felt more out of control as I have for the past year. I do know in my heart that the only thing that matters is a healthy baby in the end. I know that. But, man, it's hard not to want what you want.