Yesterday, the doctor reevaluated my ultrasound and called for me to come in as soon as I could. At the clinic, my CNM told me that my placenta had degraded to the point where it would probably not even be able to support the baby through labor. Not only that, but in a month's time, my baby had shown only about 6 days worth of normal fetal growth. She recommended immediate induction, but after looking at healthy movement on the fetal monitor, said I could go home for the night.
We went home, talked to the other midwife, thought about it, looked stuff up online, and decided to attempt to induce as naturally as possible. It is 6:56 am. OBs schedule all of their inductions at the same time in order to keep an easier routine -- break waters at 7, if that doesn't work, use pitocin at 9, no progress then do c-section at 2, etc. In order to rehumanize my birth we are intentionally going in late. One of many guerilla childbirth techniques we'll be using today.
Last night I told my kids what was going on. Tucking the Scientist in, I told him he and the Storyteller are the most important thing to me, the most important and wonderful and beautiful ever of anything I could be involved with, and they meant the whole world to me, and I'd do anything for them. Pitocin does not cause healthy contractions but unnatural ones that will cause even more distress for a fetus already weakened by an unhealthy placenta. The atmosphere in the hospital is likely to inhibit my labor, so that my body may be fighting the process the whole way. The risk of infection and maternal death skyrockets upon admittance to the hospital. Folks constantly tell me how brave I was to have homebirth, but I am all too aware that strictly statistically, it will be miraculous if I have a safe, healthy, happy birth in the hospital today.
No comments:
Post a Comment