The New OB

A couple weeks ago, after much deliberation, I decided to switch OBs. My original obstetrician was fine, his office staff was great, but he just made me uncomfortable. His personality and mine didn't mesh well and I believe it's important to be 100% confident in and at ease with the person who is charged with catching your baby. My first appointment with the new OB was today and so far, so good! His office staff is equally as wonderful as my last and the doctor himself seems to have a much more easy-going personality, which I greatly appreciate.

As I am entering the 3rd trimester and there is an increased likelihood that I'll deliver Lily early, he brought up some questions about the actual labor. Firstly, he offered to not have fetal heartbeat monitoring during the labor. Secondly, he told us we could induce labor early, if desired. Both of these options were presented to us on the premise that our child will not live and that my comfort is of top priority. Sometimes babies like Lily present with heartbeat irregularities during labor that lead to an emergency c-section, only to find that the baby wasn't actually in distress or that the child dies shortly thereafter anyway. Since having a baby vaginally after a c-section is generally frowned upon they want me to avoid it - hence, no heartbeat monitoring. Early induction would be an option if I wanted to hurry up and get the pregnancy over with. Why continue with pain and discomfort if she's just going to die anyway, right?

I told that doctor without missing a beat and in no uncertain terms that I intend to carry Lily to full term. Terminate (in effect) my child so that I can move on with my life? If that was something I was willing to consider, I would have done it much earlier in my pregnancy. Lily will be born when she decides it's time and I will wait patiently, albeit anxiously, until that day comes. The way I see it, the longer she's in there the better her chance for survival. As far as the heartbeat monitoring, that is something we are thinking about but for very different reasons than the ones the physician gave us. We'll decide where we want to go with that after some research and much prayer.

I can't explain to you what it feels like to have someone tell you that your child probably won't live; that if she does, her life may not be one that is worth living. You'd think that after getting over the initial shock of the first time it would get easier to hear but it doesn't. It's like there's a chunk of my heart that I've devoted to this child and they're trying to rip it out. The first time I thought they'd taken it clean away, but somehow it regenerated. They continue to tell me every few weeks that there's a very real possibility my child might die, wrapping their latex gloves around that small piece of heart and trying to tug it away again. And it budges, and bleeds. But it's not moving any more. That piece of heart belongs to Lily and I will not and cannot let it go.

I do not know what will happen to my daughter; I don't know what God's plan is for her or for me. But I know that he has one. I know that if we are doing everything we can to follow his commandments he will help us. He has already worked so many miracles for us. And, luckily, I've never read about a quota for miracles. I believe that my daughter has the capacity to live and is worth fighting for as much as any other child, born to any other mother, in any other part of the world. She is not worth less because her brain is small. I intend to fight for her as long as she lives.