I get excited over contests (see: Mary Maxim and Interweave’s Poetry Contest) and then don’t win.  Ok, no big deal.  It’s fun to enter and I like the anticipation of the results, so no harm done.  Other than a possible entry fee, there’s no loss to me.

I get excited over submissions (see: Knitty and Twist Collective) and then don’t make it into whatever issue I’ve submitted for.  Ok, no big deal.  I still like the anticipation of finding out if I made it, and the deadlines give me a kick in the pants to get the ideas out of my head and into tangible items.  No loss to me either, as I usually end up with a finished item and finished pattern, which I can then choose to self-publish or put out for free.  (See: Elphie, a free download I offer, that Knitty rejected last year).

I also get excited about other things.  Some of you will remember my bitter disappointment last year when we found out that Jakob was breech, and that I wouldn’t get a chance to have a natural delivery.  I was heartbroken and we even tried a bunch of measures to get him to turn.  Nothing worked.  In the end that was a good thing, as the umbilical cord was loosely around his neck and had he turned things could have gone badly.  Still…while the c-section went like a breeze and the recovery was great, I always felt cheated out of an experience that is a woman’s natural right.

When we got pregnant again I never really thought about the baby’s position.  The odds of having 2 breech babies is pretty slim (I told myself, don’t have any facts on that) and I was really only concerned with whether or not my doctor would allow me to try a VBAC.  Every visit it was discussed, and last time Yannick even came with to finalize our decision.

I had an ultrasound yesterday morning.  I walked in there thinking we’d find out how small the baby was (my doctor’s guess was small-to-normal) and if the baby was head-down, so now we just wait until I go into labor.  Instead I found out that the baby is already 4 lbs 15 oz- which contrary to my first, brain dead thought, is NOT just over 4 lbs.  It’s 1 oz less than 5 lbs.  Which puts the baby in the 91st percentile for size.  And, in what won’t be much of a shock to those able to pick up on the theme of this post…the baby is breech.  And due to the current size, while there is always a remote possibility, the odds of the baby turning in the next 8 weeks is infinitesmal.

So at my regular visit next Tuesday, instead of discussing what goes on during a VBAC birth, I will be choosing my child’s birth date and scheduling another c-section.  Any future children I have will have no option but to be c-sections, meaning I will never, ever be able to have a natural delivery, no matter how many kids we end up having.

I cannot really share how disappointed I am.  I know there are benefits.  I know we will be able to schedule someone to be with Jakob (assuming I don’t go into labor prior to the chosen date/time).  I know it will be safer for both me and the baby.  I know it will give me a few extra days at the hospital taking care of only one child before coming home to take care of two, a house, Yannick and Sam.  I know it’s not the end of the world.

But it’s the end of my dream, and while I am ecstatic to know that the baby is safe and healthy and fine, there is a little something inside me that ended yesterday.  No matter how optimistic I tend to be about every challenge I take on, this is one that no amount of wishing, hoping, praying or optimism will change, and at a certain point will even become a waste of effort.

Jakob is feeling better, still has a slight fever but is starting to get his energy back.  Yannick is doing well and keeping busy with work.  The baby, though upside-down, is otherwise great, kicking the crap out of me and only minimally affecting my ability to sleep and frequency of bathroom breaks.  Life, in other words, is going on as normal, but I am going to take a few days off from blogging and try to accept this latest development.