Gabriel celebrated his first birthday, and two months later we discovered a new baby was around the corner for us. I was due in October, and after a brief deliberation during which we reviewed our options, we made the decision to re-enter The System and use the OB who had been on call when we had Gabriel, Dr. R.

Although our experience with him had been brief, after speaking with many other women in my area and gathering intel about the other three (3, count ‘em, 3) OB’s from which we had to choose, we really felt that the Lord had been gracious in having Dr. R on call when we transferred. He definitely sounded like the most laid-back choice, and the one least given to unnecessary intervention (which, relative to our past, was still more than we were accustomed to, but an important factor nonetheless). We also knew he was a Christian, which is not a consideration for many, but for us was undeniably preferable.

So we made the appointment and met with him for a more extended visit, during which we found him to be pleasant and amenable, once again either withholding any negative opinions of our transfer situation, or honestly not finding it any of his business. We were grateful in either case, and made our final decision to put ourselves under his care.

My pregnancy was uneventful and the sonogram revealed that all was well and we were having our second boy in a row (was this even possible?). My due date was October 28th but, given my past record, I tried to mentally prepare myself for my second November baby instead.

Two weeks before my due date, we were visiting my best friend and she had recently been given a massaging chair pad, of which she was extolling the virtues. Given my creaking and rickety state at that point, I welcomed the chance to try it out and found it quite heavenly. It had all sorts of vibrating and moving parts, including a “shiatsu” option which would work up and down your spine like a masseuse’s hands.

It never occured to me that Baby might not share the same positive opinon of all the buzzing activity, but either it was that or sheer coincidence that made him decide to shift his position drastically within the next 24 hours. For the next few days I puzzled over the increase in heartburn and how large and hard and round his little bum was, until the aha! moment when I decided it was not a bum at all.

During my next OB appointment, a week before my due date, Dr. R was making his closing remarks when I expressed my opinion that the baby was breech. A look of puzzlement came over his face as he said that he was certain he had been head-down at the last check. He palpitated my abdomen and puzzled some more, but due to his lack of fingertip-x-ray-vision, as all my midwives had possessed, he finally resorted to the sonogram machine to be absolutely certain.

Sure enough, there was Baby, head up and happy as a lark.

As with Ruth, in the situation with Gabriel, we deliberated. Dr. R said I had a proven pelvis (thank you, thankyouverymuch), which meant a breech birth would more than likely be just fine, but he, as Ruth, was reluctant to proceed in that direction if there was a way to ensure a head-first birth. We discussed undergoing a version to turn him, and then immediately inducing to ensure that he did not flip around again before labor began.

If the version was not successful, Dr. R wanted to perform a c-section. I failed to see how that was less risky than a breech birth, but his level of familiarity with the former far exceeded his familiarity with the latter, not surprisingly.

I went home to talk it over with My Beloved.

After prayerful consideration, we decided to go with the version, but in the event that it was not successful we were in no way consenting to a section. We were optimistic, given our experience with Gabriel, that Baby would turn easily enough, although I was not toting the same compliment of excessive water this time around.

Two days later, in the early morning, we arrived at the hospital for the scheduled U-turn. Dr. R was nervous, which I found amusing for some reason. He had varied levels of success with versions, and all of them were, in his experience, pretty painful for the mother. He apologized in advance for this possibility, prayed with us, and greased my belly. Taking a deep breath, he reiterated that I should “do whatever I needed to do” in order to deal with the discomfort, and proceeded to mash and knead as necessary.

Exactly two, completely pain-free moments later, Baby was head-down. Dr. R stood looking rather nonplussed at this unexpected boon as I smiled and offered my opinion that my uterus was simply not likely, at post-ten babies, to protest any sort of manipulation. He laughed and had to agree that it was indeed a factor.

Later, the nurses said they had never seen him so gleeful that it had gone well. Apparently, he “was dreading having to talk us into a section”. Harrumph! He didn’t know the half of it.

By noon I was admitted “for real”, and the eviction induction was started. Dr. R took a very conservative stance on pitocin and thus began with the smallest dosage possible, for which I was grateful. I was starting out at 2 cm, and proceeded, as was my modus operandi, at one cm more per hour. Because versions were, in their opinions, notorious for being stressful to the baby, I was compelled to stay in the bed, strapped to the monitor, and thus ill-equipped to deal with the contractions as they got stronger. I opted for the epidural and was soon “enjoying” what was possibly the most boring day of my life.

There was nothing on TV (is there ever?). There was nothing left to discuss, and My Beloved and I had not thought to bring so much as a pack of cards. I was tired, but too excited to sleep, not that it would have been possible anyway with the constant interruptions of nurses and pinging machines. The hours crept past and I began to wish desperately that Dr. R was not so conservative with the pitocin. A small, carefully placed bit of C-4 upon my cervix might have been a welcome giddy-up to its mule-like behavior.

Dr. R appeared now and again, occasionally expressing wonder that all my assurances regarding the tedious natures of my previous labors had not been exaggerated. By 11pm I had to wonder if he was regretting his small-dose mentality as well. I was checked and found to be at about 9 cm, and I was getting desperate for sleep (I was also ravenous and dying of thirst, having had ice chips my only sustenance for the past fifteen hours, possibly the most ridiculous of all the ridiculous rules attached to our hospital’s policies).

 At my request, the lights were dimmed, the TV extinguished, and I tried to get comfortable amidst the tangle of IV tubes and monitor belts extending from my body parts. I dozed for about an hour before I was awoken to the news that I was comletely dilated and could begin to push. Showtime!

I tried to wake up enough to get excited, but again the reality of a baby seemed remote and hard to grasp. I sat up as best I could and began to push, once again going by memory, since my lower half might as well have been on a beach in the tropics, for all I knew.

Memory served well, however, and soon baby was on his way. I was told that he had hair, which is always a novelty to me, having had mostly bald babies throughout the years. Dr. R’s desire to be at home in his own bed surfaced at this point (although I like to think he was being considerate for my own fatigue as well) when he offered to use a little suction to get Baby out with a bit more expediency. At this point the cascading interventions blurred into one big shrug of surrender and moments later (sporting a large hickey on his forehead from the plunger used) our fourth son was in our arms.

I honestly had not thought that there could ever be another child as unequivocably adorable as Gabriel had been at birth, but I found myself never happier to be proven wrong as I snuggled my little boy. I felt a pang of guilt at his more-than-usual “cheesy coating” and I knew that he would have happily stayed ensconced within for another week or more, although he was technically only “early” by five days.

He didn’t seem unduly concerned by his present situation, however, and I was undeniably delighted to fill a previously-vacant month with the birthday of this most precious of gifts.

Stats
Baby: Tobias (Toby)
Weight: 7lbs 14oz
Labor: 12 hours

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