I just got finished reading a birth story, I cried pretty much the entire time. She planned and got a home birth.

That wasn’t exactly what I was planning since I was going to labor and birth at a birthing center with a midwife but it’s close enough.

I don’t know why I read it. It’s pretty much like torturing yourself. I should have been reading this story excited about the birth of my baby. Not mourning the birth of my baby.

I had a home birth. It wasn’t what I had planned but it’s what happened.

Not only did I have a home birth but I had a free birth. It was just B and I in the house for the majority of my labor. And then it was just me in my bath tub. It was late probably around 11:30 and the water started getting cold so I got out. I tried to lay down but I was in far too much pain, I felt sick.

So I went and sat on the toilet. I was feeling nauseous so I had B get me the thermometer so that I could take my temp. Sure enough it was the highest it had been around 99. I called my midwife to let her know. She told me to only go into the hospital if it stayed that way after having some water.

B went back downstairs. And I got back in the tub. It wasn’t up very high because the water started getting cold again so I had to pretty much lay on my stomach to have the water help me feel better.

And than sometime around 1:00am on February 25th I decided that it was time to push. I needed to push, I guess that’s the urge? I pushed once and nothing.

With the next contraction I pushed again and out slid my baby. I caught her and pulled her up and close to me as much as I could. She opened her mouth to try and breath.

I held my baby. I *tried* to see if t was a boy or girl. But my little one wanted to keep me guessing and slapped her legs shut when I tried to look.

Her heart stopped beating in my hands.

I hadn’t intended to talk about the parts of my birth story that I just did. It just came out.

What I had wanted to talk about was how I was robbed. Not just of my first born daughter but also of my peace of mind.

My cervix may be incompetent. I may never be able to spend a pregnancy not on bed rest. I will constantly worry. I will constantly wonder if my baby will live. If I will get to see them giggle, roll over, take their first steps. All of that. I may never be able to have a home birth. Or birth at a birthing center. My pregnancies from here on out will not be normal. They will be high risk. A lot of that has to do with me. My doctors don’t want to treat me as high risk. Part of me doesn’t want to either but I would never forgive myself if I don’t take precautions the next time around.

If I don’t get cervical length checks, swabs for infections, biweekly appointments, modified bed rest, extra vitamins and  pelvic rest. And then if a third pregnancy succeeds with no problems, I can never have a 4th normal pregnancy because what if all the things I did in my third is what made it possible.

I’ve been robbed of the little girl I wanted SO badly and my peace of mind.

And there are some nights were it is completely overwhelming.

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