Let me start from the beginning: I'm fat. Probably obese, to be honest.
When I knew that we would soon be ready to try and conceive a child, I went to my OBGYN and talked to him about a lot of stuff, including my weight. I was concerned that it, along with my age, might play a role in getting pregnant or not. He assured me that while it may have an impact, and that it would be best if I was at a lower weight, it didn't mean that I shouldn't try to get pregnant and have a baby. And when I did get pregnant and lost the baby, again I questioned him about my weight and again he assured me that it most likely was not the only reason I lost the baby (missed miscarriage) if it was even a reason at all. He urged me to keep trying to have a successful pregnancy if that's what I wanted to do.
So I did. And while I tried to lose weight in the meantime, it wasn't happening because I was very hurt, very angry, very bitter after my miscarriage- and, sadly, I tend to turn to food in times like that. Poor excuse? Absolutely, but it's the truth and I own it.
When I got pregnant with Lovie, again we talked about my weight and again he assured me that everything should be fine, that I should just make sure to take my prenatal vitamins and try to eat healthy. And let me just say that finding out I was pregnant (both times) was great incentive to eat better. And I did. In fact, I only ended up gaining like 10 pounds during my pregnancy with Lovie and after birth, was 20 pounds lighter than I was when I first got pregnant! HOLLA!!
Another reason I questioned my doctor so much about my weight and pregnancy is because I've read that larger women tend to have c-sections more often... And when I brought this up to him he assured me that he likes to do the opposite with heavier women. He likes to avoid c-sections at all costs regardless who his patient is, but especially if they are overweight.
Unfortunately, he wasn't on call the day I went into the hospital (induction)- December 27th. Nor was he on call the next day after my water broke. And when it came to start pushing (finally!!) at 10PM on December 28th, he still wasn't on call. So I pushed on the advice of another doctor in the practice whom I met twice prior - once being the week before induction when she urged me then to go with a c-section before even being induced.
Now, I wasn't one of these women who have this strict birth plan written down to be followed like the Bible. My main goal was to have a happy and healthy baby and my only Plan was to listen to what the doctors suggested I do to ensure that I get a happy and healthy baby. So when she told me to push, I pushed with a vengeance. I couldn't feel a thing (drugs!) but made sure to push as if I was trying to get a Mini Cooper out of me. I wanted to meet my Lovie more than anything in the world so that's all I focused on.
Two hours later, I stopped pushing. Lovie's head would start to crown and then as soon as I would take a breath, she'd slide back up the canal. That and every time I pushed, her heart rate dropped. So it was time to go get sliced open.
I was very upset. Not because I didn't want a c-section, not because it wasn't in my Bible Birth Plan, but because I was incredibly exhausted and hungry (I had gestational diabetes so hadn't been allowed anything more than water since 8PM on December 27th and it was just about to roll into December 29th!). Fortunately I fell asleep while they were getting everything ready (they took their time because Lovie's heart rate was fine as long as I wasn't pushing so this wasn't an "emergency" c-section) and once they rolled me into the operating room and laid me out like Jesus on the cross, Lovie was born shortly thereafter at 1:20 in the morning on December 29th.
Recovery was rough. I won't lie. It hurt like hell just going home in the car...and I don't even want to think about how I got up the stairs into our apartment!
Anyway, ever since the surgery, my guts have hurt. And I swear they must've put things back in wrong or something because stuff just doesn't digest the way it used to!! So when I get my period or food isn't digesting properly, man do I hate my guts! I have to blame it on the c-section, right?