My pre-term birth: 5 things I wish I'd done differently

‘Ohmygoodnessthebabyregisteryneedsbedonenolaterthantwentyfiveweeks!’ was all I could think of.  When I was pregnant with my first daughter I was nothing less than neurotic, a tad bit controlling and a little too unrealistic.  Aside from the excitement that I was growing a uterus-encapsulated little being, there was the planning and the baby gear and all the stuff that had to be pondered, tested, chosen and registered for.

Since I didn’t want to know the sex of the baby in advance, I also had to consider the gender-neutral baby shower themes.  Serious stuff.  Lastly, there was also the baby’s room that needed decorating. I had so much to do and less than forty weeks to do them.  There was no time for lounging around. 

I had thirty-four weeks from the time I learned that I was going to squat and pop a baby out, to get things done.  Not only was I gestating a soon to be chubby footed little being but I was also gestating my incessant neurosis about gestating the soon to be chubby little toes.  There were several other obsessions that I probably could have done without nevertheless, I was hormonally challenged and overly concerned and whisking these two ingredients together did not make a good baby-growing recipe for this gestating mama. 

I’ve often wondered if there was really anything I could have done differently.  After having had two subsequent births, I believe that there could have been a few.  Looking back, perhaps there were at least five things that I believe contributed to my shortened gestation and the wildly unexpected early arrival of my first daughter.

My Sabrina born at 34 weeks. 1.8.04

1. Not to obsess so much over my gestating weeks

I was never satisfied with any pregnancy week.  I’d peruse my pregnancy calendar every other day counting down the days until the next week was approaching.  I couldn’t wait to be two more weeks pregnant and then more four weeks pregnant and so on and so forth.  I was in a gestating marathon.  I rarely stopped to enjoy the week I was actually experiencing because it seemed more important to prepare for the next.  I’d mention to my husband, ‘We’re almost twenty-weeks, I can’t wait!’ and he’d always look at me like I was clearly insane.  My having to wait for yet another Sunday so I could take my Sharpie and scratch a line through the completed week on my calendar was like making me wait in long line for a vanilla and hot fudge sundae.  Not fun. 

2. Not to be over-confident about my birth plan

I had the perfect plan.  I knew exactly where my baby was going to be born.  I thought that because I was planning on having my baby at home with a midwife, I was definitely immune to anything ‘not going as planned.’  I mean, what can possibly go wrong when you’re absolutely positive about your birth plan right? WRONG.  I was delusional, ignorant and inexperienced for not being realistic about ‘what ifs’.  Most things are unknown and especially in pregnancy.  Fetuses are not a little genie in a belly that’ll grant your wishes.   Fetuses definitely have their own agendas.  Believe me.  I believe that if I had had the wherewithal to be more realistic, I would have had less angst about my baby being born prematurely.  Plus, I would have experienced the, ‘I. Am. So. Over. This.’ syndrome. 

3. Not to ignore all the signs

Is that a sign? ‘Eh, what the heck, ignore it.  I’m not a drama mama!’  I ignored all the signs.  I ignored the fact that I was too tired to walk another ten minutes.  I ignored the severe lower back pain and brushed it off as ‘well, this comes with pregnancy.’  I ignored the menstrual like cramps that formed a band around my lower abdomen and brushed those off as ‘oh, some more Braxton Hicks.’  I ignored my need to rest.  I ignored my need to put my feet up.  I ignored my need to drink more water and my need to sleep more.  I could have also let go of the fact that there was too much dog hair to pick up in one day, as well as, my incessant need to scrub the grout on the tile floor for the fourth time in a week.  I simply ignored my need to chill out because the primary thing that was happening in my uterus was the fact that I was growing a baby and everything else was secondary.  I needed to listen to my body and my baby but I didn’t. 

4. Not to stay in a stressful job so long

My job at the time was beyond stressful.  Working for a female lawyer didn’t always entail the most compassionate regard for the pregnant female counterpart.  I forced myself to do my job every single day until I was six and a half months pregnant.  I was advised by my midwife to either shorten my workload or quit.  The stress of my work caused numerous physical ailments during my pregnancy but the worst one of all was the permanent golf ball sized knot I had on my right shoulder.  The pain was a burning nuisance and the stress inevitably created some havoc in my uterus, which probably made my baby beg to get the heck out of the dungeon. I wish I hadn’t taken so long to finally quit. 

5. Not to worry about my baby’s full term size

I wanted a healthy baby but not a big one.  I created a phobia about growing a baby that would be too big for me to push out.  I’d often mention to my husband and close relatives how I hoped the baby wouldn’t be too big.  I obsessively asked any mom I met how much their baby had weighed at birth and remember being horrified at the idea of having an eight or nine pound baby.  In my delusional mind, I was not able to birth a full-term baby.  I constantly doubted myself, as well as, the possibility of actually having to push out a baby over six pounds.   Because of my neurosis, I inevitably made my fear a reality because I went into labor at thirty-four weeks gestation and birthed a five-pound six-ounce healthy baby girl. 

I don’t know that I really could have reversed any of events that took place during my first pregnancy.  I was a first time mom dealing with a cascade of emotions, physical changes and an overall sense of ‘could I really be a good mom?’  My need to control the process of my pregnancy and birth was my own insecurity about having to face the unknown and surrender to whatever was going to be.  I wasn’t happy about the ‘letting go and letting be’ aspect of my pregnancy or birth because the only thing I wanted was to be in absolute control, which in the end was foolish of me.  Like the cliché adage says, ‘If I knew then what I know now’ but really, is there ever a way to really know? 

In retrospect, I understand that we all need to trek down the pregnancy, birthing and motherhood paths in our own ways.  What I learned was that while I feared, obsessed and ignored some parts of my pregnancy and pre-term labor, in the end I became aware, accepting and a bit more prepared the for next the pregnancies.  I understand that while there were several factors that contributed to my pre-term labor and birth, I feel that this first experience only forced my feet to be tethered to the ground in a way that made me wiser and much more realistic about being pregnant in general.  The truth is, you can never know what to expect but you can have an idea.  I’m fine with this now but I still wish that I could’ve seen it all differently. 

Remember: November 17th is Premature Awareness Day.  Stay tuned for my thoughts of this important day.      

Fertile Mertle or not?

When I was 23 years old I was diagnosed with Cervical Dysplasia and I thought that the world was going to end, as well as, my chances of ever having babies.  When a Pap Smear comes back 'abnormal' it means that there are 'potential' cells that may or may not turn into cancerous cells.  I think that anything terrified me at the age of 23!  I was 'green' to many things including my cervix.

My diagnosis called for me to have a cone biopsy which is where they permanently remove, by laser surgery (in my case), a 'cone' shaped portion of your cervix (ouch!).  So on June 14, 2001, the cone biopsy was performed.  It was an out-patient ordeal.  But the experience of this was devastating to my womanhood and even more so to my reproductive system.  I felt ashamed and scarred by the fact that a piece of my organ (cervix) was taken from me, forever.  I felt like a failure...

I was later told by the Gynocologist that I would 'be unable to carry a baby to term 'if' I ever conceived.  And 'if' I did conceive then I'd have an 'incompetent cervix.'  'Gee thanks doc! You took my cervix and now I'm a failure to fertility' is what I wanted to say to him.  He instilled zero confidence in my ability to carry a baby to term therefore, squashing any of my future wishes to have a baby.  What an ass!

In June of 2002, just 4 months after meeting who would later become my darling husband, I became pregnant.  I had never been pregnant before and the fact that I was un-married (but planning to be) was a complete flop to my list of priorities.  I was not happy.  I was terrified!  Stunned and confused, I knew that continuing with the pregnancy was my only option.  Period.

What followed next was something I never expected or even considered.  I found out about my 'surprise' pregnancy on June 28th and on July 1st I had a sudden and painful miscarriage.  I was about 5 weeks pregnant.  The experience of a pregnancy loss is difficult no matter how early the stage.  While I was going through the miscarriage I thought I'd be fine and simply be able to move on.  No, I was wrong.  So very wrong.  

It was a terrible feeling to 'lose' something like this.  I had never bereaved this way before.  The loss was raw and painful and present with my emotional, physical and spiritual self.  I was curled up like a shrimp on my bathroom floor clutching my abdomen from the pain and discomfort of the miscarriage.  My body was expelling something that was not 'viable' and I had to allow for my body to do what it needed to.  It all happened fast, under an hour.  I bled what seemed like a medium to lite cycle.  I was confused and lost and empty.  I had no idea what to think or not to think but I knew that something terrible had happened to me.  I literally had a bowel movement during the entire episode and yes, my husband (then boyfriend), scooped it up and witness the entire miscarriage.  There was no room for embarrassment at that moment.  Cold sweats, low blood pressure and a pregnancy loss.  We were forever changed.  

Thankfully, I went on to have 3 successful pregnancies and births after the miscarriage.  No major issues or hiccups.  Well, the first baby came five and a half weeks ahead of schedule but she was perfectly healthy and strong, just as she is.  I had no issues with my cervix and my body was able to do what it needed to carry each baby to their desired gestation.  Infertility was not my issue but when it is, I feel for those women and couples.  

The feeling of failure in fertility is a sensitive and powerful issue.  Some may say it's taboo.  Many women struggle with this.  There are two women in my life that had to deal with infertility issues.  Two women I love and who've always dreamed of becoming a mother.  Both had to undergo IVF (In Vitro Fertilization).

The statistics show that 10 to 15% of couples in the US are infertile.  That equates to 1 in 8 people.  There is a stigma associated with infertility and I feel that there should not be.  Awareness needs to be brought to light and compassion needs to be shown to these women or couples.  I imagine a feeling of inadequacy from women who cannot conceive or carry a pregnancy.  There is also the added emotion from infertile women of a resentment toward the women who can invariably conceive 'naturally.'  For some people it takes years to successfully conceive through IVF.  In any case, the emotional struggles are endless.

This topic also brings to light the age of the women having to opt for this when adoption is their last resort (or not).  Each failed attempt means more emotional struggle, more money and potentially another birthday or two or three or four.  If she started her 'hopeful pregnancy' journey after the age of 35 then the advanced 'maternal age' comes into play.  Babble recently posted an article on maternal age and pregnancy.  The article touched on 'should there be a cut off to a mother's age' when wanting to conceive?

As a woman who conceived naturally and without any issues, I cannot image the idea of placing a 'cut off' age for a woman wanting to become a mother.  A woman's age at the time of her conceiving or gestating is personal and I feel that the stigma placed on 'older moms' needs to disappear.  It's devastating enough to deal with ones sense of inadequacy and/or 'failed fertility' when it's evident.  Until a person has experienced either a pregnancy loss or many failed attempts at conceiving, be it naturally or with the help of science, then they will understand that infertility is a huge issue and one that merits compassion, empathy and love.

Here's to the two women in my life that had 'assisted' conception and were successful on their FIRST attempt of IVF.  A true miracle! Both are sisters and each have an extraordinary conception and pregnancy journey.  Without the advances in treatments they would not be the wonderful mothers they are today.  I love you both very much...  My heart goes out to the many women and couples struggling to become mothers or parents today.