Somewhere in blogland, I read that April is letter-writing month on blogs. A lot of my favorite blogs have participated in this so I thought I would be a lemming and follow suit. But I could not decide who to write a letter to! To my Dad for so willingly answering a desperate daughter’s plea of assistance for the week following her third child’s birth? To my Friends for talking me down from the ledge when I suddenly decided that I wasn’t strong enough to have a third kid since the second one was wearing me ragged? Or maybe write a letter to that lady on my street who walks her dog and cat AT THE SAME TIME. What’s up with that?

No. I’ll do even better. I’ll write to you…my boobs.

I feel like I should take this chance to tell you that I appreciate all you’ve done for me in terms of feeding my children. When I’m not pregnant or nursing…let’s face it…you kinda suck. You are droopy and too small for my taste. I had to have b-cup padding inserted into my wedding dress because I didn’t want to get married with A-Cup boobs! How sad is that?

But when I’m pregnant? You grow to a size I can be proud of! You give me CLEAVAGE! Which I love sooooo much. Of course, with the cleavage come the boobsweat. But I’ve learned to live with that. Having cleavage is just that awesome. And when the babies come? You provide nourishment as well as can be expected. We’ve had our problems because you don’t like to work too hard. But that has it’s perks too as you don’t leak! Yay for non-leaking boobs!

Anyway. I feel this may be our last run together as I’m not sure if anymore children are in our future. In four weeks you will start producing milk for what will probably be my last child and I just wanted to boost your ego a little before you step up to the plate this last time. You’ve both been great and have served your purpose well. I’ll be sad to see you shrink back to the nothings you were before, when the nursing of AndyZ is done. But - I’m thrilled that you’ve performed to the level you have. I could not be more proud of you.

Love,
Zoot

First of all? I hate you all. You were supposed to say, “OH! Three is SOOO easy! Never fear!” But no - you had to go and be honest and tell me how much more age 3 sucks than age 2. I thought about banning you all from this blog forever.

BUT - we went and flew kites this morning and LilZ took such hilarious action shots of my giant pregnant ass trying to fly a kite that I would hate for you all to miss them.

I have a feeling my doctor would frown on that type of activity. A hugely pregnant woman should not be putting her body through the pain of RUNNING. But I’ll do anything for a good laugh.

Remember how two days ago I was all, “6 weeks and then some!” Well, now I can officially say, “5 weeks from today.”

I had a long talk with Dr. SoNice that actually didn’t last that long. He was leaning toward a c-section for me and giving me his thoughts on it but I interrupted him and said, “Um. I don’t really need convincing. Let’s do it.” It was how I had been leaning too and after all of your amazing success stories and advice of, “GO WITH YOUR GUT!” I decided to just follow the instincts that had me say c-section in the beginning. He told me, “We’ll call you later today or tomorrow with a tentative day.”

I kinda assumed that met one of his nurses would call. But - guess what! He called me! It was so weird - like I was talking to some celebrity on the phone. I just didn’t realize he would have the time to make such a silly phone call and I was all flustered while talking to him.

(Yes. I’m weird. I know.)

He scheduled me (tentatively) for May 21st at noon. That’s five weeks from today. Mark your calendars. And I’m looking for volunteers to sneak me in a few beers while I’m in the hospital. My husband’s all, “It’s not good for you or the baby! You’ll be nursing! And on morphine!” Whatever. He’s so boring.

You know - there used to be a time when I would make sure my legs were shaved and my toenails were painted before an OB appointment. Those days were many moons ago. Now, my doctor is lucky if I change out of my pajamas, much less shave.

I also no longer care about whether or not I’m wearing the same outfit as I was last time I went in (assuming I’m even wearing real clothes). I think I finally realized that, he sees 15+ women a day, he’s not going to remember if I’m wearing the same top as I did last month. Also? I don’t even remember what I wore yesterday, much less last month. For all I know I’ve been wearing the same pants for 8 days straight.

I sometimes crack jokes now, with my doctor. For many years - I was worried about the outcomes of the visits and too nervous to make light of anything. Now, I’m recognizing that the news will be the same regardless of whether or not I crack a joke about the MUZAK playing over the loud speaker. And my doctor laughs at my jokes which gives him an upgrade from Dr. SoNice to Dr. ThinksI’mFunny.

Of course, he may just be laughing because I’m still in my pajamas. Who knows…

I have my six-week appointment today. Round about. Maybe it’s 6-week and a few days. I haven’t really kept that close of track on the due date since it’s a mildly anti-climactic day due to the scheduling of a c-section when the doctor seems fit to do so.

Since the day the positive pregnancy test showed up in my bathroom, for this pregnancy and the last failed one, I have known I’d have another c-section. The EMERGENCY c-section with NikkiZ is something that still gives me nightmares. I look at a scheduled c-section as a way of controlling as much of the delivery as humanly possible. I watched NikkiZ’s heart stop with every contraction I was having because her umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. I cried as they rushed me into the OR and begged for them to let MrZ stay in there with me while the anesthesiologist did his thing. I cried essentially until they said, “She’s fine. Everything is okay.”

It was far from the ideal birth story. The results were what we wanted, but the road to those results were not. The scheduled c-section for AndyZ made me feel like I could control more of that road.

But two weeks ago - I started having doubts. I started wondering if maybe, I was making a decision - a very important decision - based entirely on fear. And I’ve been reconsidering the decision.

If the doctor asks me today to solidify my request, I think I’ll ask him if it can wait two more weeks. I’m betting it’s too early to schedule it, but since the chance is there, I figured it was a good time to blog about it. And let me tell you - I’M TERRIFIED OF THE COMMENTS OF THIS ENTRY. I am not looking for advice, I promise. I’m just looking for your story. Especially if you did a VBAC - but really I’ll take any story. I just request that maybe they be HAPPY stories. I just want one of those. This will possibly be my last chance at a good birth story, and I’d rather it not have a chapter in there titled, “And Then I Was So Scared I Couldn’t Breathe.”

So, what is your birth story?