On Instinct

I was debating one more post in my preparing for birth series. It looks like I was meant to write it after the fact. In the two weeks before the birth, I had sudden doubts about my new plan.

This was mostly prompted by a couple people telling me birth horror stories that involved my doctor. They, of course, were looking out for my well-being and wanted me to be informed. The bottom line was that it played right into my original fears that perhaps New Doctor was too anti intervention. And the moral was to speak up if I felt like anything was going wrong, and make sure M was firm about any procedures we desired.

Nevertheless I was trying to rationalize my decision to switch doctors: it was for the pediatric care ( not being separated from baby, delayed cord clamping, no glucose water, encouraging breast feeding); it was for knowing that I wouldn’t be subjected to IVs, episiotomies, forceps, and the like; it was for giving myself the best chance at a natural birth. I had nightmares about complications, about somehow ending up with a uterine rupture, a hysterectomy, and other unmentionables. Maybe I was making the wrong decision? Maybe I should stay with Old Doctor, the surgeon?

At the end of the day my instinct said I needed to give myself the best possible shot for a successful VBAC for both the short term ramifications (being able to take care of a toddler) and the long term ones ( if we decide to keep expanding our family). And that meant going with New Doctor.

So M advised Old Doctor that I was going with a different doctor for the birth, and then left a message with his office when the baby had been born.

Wouldn’t you know it, a few days after the birth I get a call from Old Doctor. He called to congratulate me AND we found out he had been out of town all week at a conference! If I hadn’t changed, the annoying on-call doctor would have delivered my baby and who knows how that would have gone down.

Trust your instincts.

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