thoughts from the sick bed

I am sitting on my couch today with not much to do (well, plenty to do, but my back went out two days ago and hasn't improved since, so I'm trying to take it easy for awhile). Miriam has been so good today, just playing quietly on my bed with her toys while I have been glued to the last Harry Potter book with an ice pack on my back. There's not much I'm able to do in the way of chores today, so I tore myself away from The Deathly Hallows to write a quick post.

I've been thinking a lot of pregnancy and childbirth lately. And not just because I went through it recently. I guess I am really scared of getting pregnant again. I don't just mean now is not a good time, we should wait awhile longer, etc. I mean I am scared of getting pregnant again, ever. I have been overcome with the perilousness of it since becoming pregnant myself. I always just thought women just got pregnant, went to the hospital, and had a baby. Painful, yes...dangerous, no.

Yet I was terrified my whole pregnancy. I was scared I would miscarry for the first half, terrified I wouldn't come home with a baby the second half. I even kept tags on many baby gifts because I thought I might have to take them back. How sick is that?? Nothing went too wrong during my pregnancy, but for the first 12 weeks I took progesterone because mine was too low...too low to sustain a pregnancy, my doctor said. Articles on the internet (don't EVER look on the internet for this kind of stuff) said that progesterone would only make a pregnancy destined to fail last a little longer. And it didn't help that over about the past two years, a total of seven friends (not just people I casually know...all good friends and my neighbor) have had miscarriages.

And yet, my pregnancy continued. At about 30 weeks, I went to the ER with contractions. When my contractions were coming about five minutes apart, a nurse gave me a shot to stop labor. It made my body shake and tremble for a few hours. I went home and quit my job.

At an OBGYN visit at about 35 weeks, my doctor said my belly was measuring too small. She sent me to get an ultrasound. The baby was an ok size, but my amniotic fluid was low. Andrew asked the doctor reviewing the ultrasound results what this could mean if it continued. "Stillbirth," he answered. The jerk.

I went in for ultrasounds once a week until I went into labor the day before my due date. After about twenty hours of crazy painful contractions, I had only dilated to three centimeters and the doctor took me in for a c-section because Miriam's heart rate kept plummeting. At the end of it all, she was fine, I was fine. A healthy baby. I praise God for her everyday.

But I always wanted a lot of kids. Myfirst thought after my c-section was, "I want more kids, but how can I ever go through that again." I felt really devastated. Since then the terror of my labor and c-section has faded, but new fears have surfaced. If I opt to try a vaginal delivery next baby, there is a risk of uterine rupture. I have no desire to go into labor again, so an elective c-section sounds quite a bit more appealing. However, c-sections are not without their own risks. I found this in a recent new article:"Compared with vaginal deliveries, cesarean deliveries have twice the risk of complications and deaths of both infants and mothers when the fetus is in the normal, head-down position, according to findings from a study conducted in Latin America."

A pregnant friend called me today. She told me of her recent ER visit. She had a kidney infection and went into early labor, all because her doctor didn't diagnose an ongoing urinary tract infection. But she wasn't calling about her. She was calling to tell me about another friend of ours who gave birth a couple weeks ago. Her baby went into the hospital yesterday because he had lost about two and a half pounds since birth and his sodium reading was through the roof. I don't know much more than that--Lord Jesus, let him be ok.

If I get pregnant again, I know I will just have to go through it and trust in God's care to preserve my life and the baby's, but I am scared all the same. Every day I look at my baby and think of what a gift she is--more precious than I ever imagined. And every time I hear that a friend is in labor, my heart starts to beat quickly, my hands get clammy, and I can't think of much else until I hear that the baby has been born. God has infinitely blessed women with the ability to bear children, for I have known no greater joy, but I have know no greater fear, either. For me, the two have always been combined.