How It Was Supposed to Be and How It Is

In my mind, it was going to go something like this:

On an quiet, well-fed and humidity-free morning, I'd leave my perfectly cleaned house after kissing my perfectly dressed and groomed children goodbye. I'd arrive at the hospital, sign a form or two, blink, and have a perfect ninja baby #4. My hair would still be neat and clean and sprayed into place and I'd be zipping up my pre-pregnancy jeans by 4 p.m.


 We'd be home by dinner because, in my perfect world, Texas hospitals don't make you stay over night and fight with intrusive, blood-pressure checking nurses who wake up your baby at 2 a.m. for fun.  Said baby #4 would sleep through 'til morning starting that first magical night home. What's more? She'd tutor her older brother and sister in organic chemistry and share the secrets of a perfect, flaky pie crust with me after changing her own diapers. No, she'd be potty trained by day 2... in my mind.

But what really happened?

I hit 36 weeks last week and went in for a normal checkup to find things not so normal. 

First, an infection and antibiotics out the wa-zoo. Then severe anemia and iron supplements out the wa-zoo. Do you know how miserable iron supplements are? I'm pretty sure they're served as appetizers in the fourth circle of hell...

Didn't really feel like posting a late-preggo pic, so here's one of an applique quilt
I finished a couple weeks ago. It's a Red Riding Hood quilt right before
the Red Riding Hood part. Come to think of it...maybe I should have posted
a picture of the completed project....ha!

But the kicker was the "oh, gee, your child seems to be head up" talk. We scheduled an ultrasound for yesterday afternoon, which only confirmed it. (Yes, I was sorta hoping for a miracle. Does that make me crazy? Perhaps...perhaps.)

So, with a giant-headed child firmly entrenched right side up, the doctor scheduled a c-section for the end of the month. I'd like to say I took it all in stride and saw the bright side right away, but the truth is, I was deflated and really, really overwhelmed. I still am.

C-sections terrify me, I mean, really, really scare me. Sawing into my abdomen, yanking out a child, and sewing it all back up together again? Sounds scarier than my collection of zombie DVDs. And less fun than a root canal performed in the back of a pickup truck driving 90 down a bumpy dirt road. (I have imagination for days, ya'll!!)

I've been spoiled with my kids so far. I'm back on the mat within a week or so and I'm free to workout and push strollers to parks and cavort to my heart's content. But the word on the street after c-sections? Weeks and weeks of painful recovery. Immobility. Taking it easy. Not lifting, running, jumping, bouncing....any of that. I mean, have you met my family?? We aren't exactly the calm, sedated types and the thought that I'm going to need help to get out of bed for a few weeks makes me cry. And pout. And wallow. And roll around in the mud of my mind like a little piggy.

I know, I know...put on the big girl panties and get going already. Truth be told, this has been one easy pregnancy. I skipped the entire first trimester, never felt much discomfort. We moved to Texas in month seven and a half and this little ninja child never once complained or gave me much grief. And I guess when I said all my prayers for a healthy, happy child, I agreed to take her however God chose to hand her off to me--"bikini cut" scars and all. Just part of the small price for such a beautiful family the mister and I have been blessed with.

Still...how long do you have to hold a pillow over your abdomen when you cough or sneeze to avoid blowing out stitches?? Yikes...just not sure how ready I am to be an invalid for the rest of the summer, no matter how accepting of the way things are I am. Pray for us!

Happy Summer!