I may seem all happy happy joy joy about having my third c-section, but I’m not. I mean, I am still happy to be going elective this time and not bothering with trying again for a VBAC. I realised after T’s birth that I am just not meant to give birth vaginally, and am hopeful that my elective this time is going to be a little easier to recover from than an emergency section after a long and brutal labour. To read about it, see this post.
What I mean is that I have some fears.
Last week I signed my consent forms for the section and for getting my tubes tied while they are in there. Yes, 4 is enough. I had to read the very long list of risk factors involved in my surgery. The first risk that stuck out to me was also the last risk that was listed. ‘This surgery involves the risk of death’. Great. Highly unlikely, but there it is. I really freak out about kicking the bucket and leaving my family behind. K especially. J would still have a mother and a father. T and LSP would be little and I am sure they would adjust and be none the wiser, but K is so wrapped up in me, I really don’t think he would cope if he lost me. His heart would die a thousand deaths and I truly don’t know if he would ever fully recover.
Dying terrifies me. It terrifies me because it is final. I don’t believe there is a whole ‘you get to look over the ones you love’ thing. Once you die, you don’t get the opportunity to watch how their life pans out. I would not get to see D get through loosing me and find happiness again. What would LSP look like? I wouldn’t see K, J and T meet their first girlfriends. No graduations, no weddings, no grandchildren, no career achievements, no nothing. I hyperventilate a little just thinking of this. You know how you hear of people who are terminally ill, say that they have come to peace with dying and are ready to go? I don’t think I could ever say that. I would never be ready to go. I could never be at peace with not being there to make sure everyone is alright.
That is my biggest and greatest fear right there, and yes, I realise there is only the tiniest of tiny chances that I will die so it is pretty irrational. For the most part, I know everything is going to be fine. I’ve already had 2 c-sections and they have both been fine. There is nothing to suggest it is going to be anything but fine. It is only in the deepest darkest spaces of my mind that I think about these things.
My most realistic fear, is more of a concern really and that is about my recovery. My first section I was much younger and it really was pretty easy. T’s section 12 years later was a completely different story. Recovery was a bitch. A bitch with a headache. A bitch with a headache and PMS wrapped in a turd sandwich. I was on the hardcore painkillers which made me a bit loopy, but I dared not not take them because the pain was ridiculous.
I am a pretty independent person, and I hate sitting around and asking for help with things. I found that whenever I tried to do too much, I hurt more and bled more. Going into my 3rd section, I know that I have to take the time to recover properly and that means I will have to ask for help to do simple shit which is going to drive me a little crazy.
I remember how much it hurt when little tiny T would push his legs into my incision. Well this time I will have another little person doing that and a big toddler to watch out for. I am scared he is going to catch me unaware one day and jump on/bounce on/headbutt/elbow/launch off on my tummy and do me some damage. At his age I don’t think he can fully grasp the whole ‘Mummy’s tummy hurts and you have to be gentle’ thing. Tell him to be gentle with Chum-Lee and the next thing he is pulling his tail and poking him in the eye.
We all know that I am no domestic goddess, but I worry about how bad shit is going to get around here when I have to rely on D to take care of things around the house. Like, when I go into hospital, he is going to have to do everything! I really don’t think he gets what I do to keep things running smoothly. I think he thinks vacuuming is a one time deal. Do it once and you’re good to go for another month or so! I don’t think he realises that when I am home with T, I am busy doing house stuff constantly. It actually helps keep T busy and occupied as we make it fun and he ‘helps’ me. When D looks after T, that is all he does. But this is not a bitch session about D. He is an amazing father and does plenty to make my life better. I just get rather frustrated when I am able to get out of the house alone and have a wee bit of me time and I walk back in to find T’s lunch mess still all over the high chair and floor and crap everywhere. Sigh.
I still worry a little tiny bit that there is something wrong with LSP. Something that the lady doing to 20 week scan caught an inkling of, but the later scan did not show. Even though the repeat scan came back with everything normal, what if they missed something?
What if emotionally I can’t handle 4 children? This recent bout of depression or pregnancy hormones or whatever it was has me a little freaked out. What if that gloom and doom comes back? It wasn’t a happy time for me and giving birth to my last child and my only daughter should be a monotonously happy occasion, what if I fuck it up and waste it due to hormones and depression? I will never forgive myself if I waste a moment of this special time feeling sorry for myself.
Am I being ridiculous? Over thinking too much? This is what happens when you leave a heavily pregnant woman at home with all the kids in bed alone with her blog.
Everything will be just fine. I know it will, you know it will, and even if it isn’t, I’ll just deal with whatever comes my way. That is after all what we mothers do isn’t it?