Between my laptop being FUBAR’d and my needing some time to process my doctor’s appointment, I haven’t written about it until now.
I sort of expected to go in and get a laundry list of tests my OB felt necessary, get a “don’t fly past” number of weeks, and be sent on my way with her blessings. I’m 5 lbs (usually more, but I’ve been quite gluttonous) lighter than I was when I got pregnant with E, and my a1c has been great. I’ve been off the mood stabilizers for the precautionary 3 months. I was ready to get with the baby-making.
She told me that in her opinion, I should deliver in the United States. That I should fly back at 32 weeks and finish out my pregnancy here.
There have been times when I’ve insisted that I would do exactly that. That I want to do exactly that. And to some extent, part of me still does. She is a trusted doctor, and I feel that if something happened again, the Siblet would be as well cared for as Elanor was.
Part of the problem is that we just don’t know what caused E to get so sick. Did I turn group B strep positive in the weeks between my negative test and delivery? Did she get infected with MRSA, which the hospital had an outbreak of around the time I delivered? (she was hit with broad-spectrum antibiotics before any blood draws were done…thus concealing the cause of her illness). Was it a random thing that knocking out 4 iv’s allowed to happen? If she hadn’t gotten the preventative course of antibiotics, would she have gotten sick? If she’d gotten 2 more days of antibiotics would she have come so close to death? We can argue it every way from Sunday and never know…which is part of what makes it scary. The bleeding disorder she inherited might have made her more susceptible to the blood infection. No one knows.
But as I thought about the consequences of that choice, it has begun to seem like a much more difficult one. Ravi and I effectively lost out on Elanor’s first month of life; sitting next to a baby while a machine breathes for her, unable to pick her up isn’t really “parenting” in the traditional sense, per se. Delivering in the US might very well mean that Ravi misses the first month of his second child’s life as well–sure he might be able to get a few weeks, but he’d need a full fare business class ticket (6-8k as opposed to the 2k non-refundable coach seats we used to travel this time) and depending on how the baby is coming out, he could spend that time with a cranky 39/40 week pregnant wife instead of a new baby. Depending on how I deliver the baby, I might need up to 6 weeks recuperation…and I’d need their passport in order to get back to Singapore as well.
It would mean splitting up our family for 3-4 months. Elanor would come with me, as would B…leaving Ravi in an empty apartment. I’m at the doctor too much towards the end of my pregnancy to count on family and friends to watch her during doctor’s appointments…and I need a second adult in the house if I need to go to the emergency room. It would mean an expensive furnished rental, as I wouldn’t stay with my in-laws for that length of time.
I’m not quite convinced as to the necessity of delivery in the US, but I’m not ready to move forward with baby-making either. So I canceled the IUD removal (and cried for about 5 hours straight after that). I’m going to get my records and go meet with doctors, tour hospitals and talk to NICU teams (if I can) about what they think is best in our case. If they say US delivery…then it will be that…and we will need to talk to Ravi’s work about any concessions they might be willing to make (working remotely–maybe out of the NYC office?) before moving forward.
I don’t trust us if we switched to condoms or some other less reliable method than my IUD, so it stays in until I know what our game plan is.
That I got my period on the day I was supposed to get the damn thing out? Just icing on the proverbial cake.