We're coming right along here at Camp Propson. Baby is busy growing and kicking me in the ribs and Mama is finally in a good mental place after a month of fret and worry about providers and the diagnosis of gestational diabetes.
If you've followed my FB status you're aware that last week I was actually posting about feeling happy (which was a change from my sour and disappointed posts of previous weeks). For one really really exciting 48-hour period I thought I had found a midwife willing to attend an HBAC, but even after it was determined that wouldn't work for us I nevertheless felt great. Discussing my health with a provider who was willing to consider my whole being, beyond the 3 points on my GTT, allowed me to finally relax. My mind feels well-rested. My resolve reinvigorated.
I now know for certain which path I would be choosing for the remainder of my prenatal care: I am confident that to refuse the interventions being unneccessarily required of me (in my current state of health) at my current clinic is the right move. Yes, it likely means being attended by OBs instead of my family practitioner. (I was surprised to hear today, however, that it doesn't automatically mean this. I still may have my family doc!) Yes, it means continuing to refuse the tests for the next month. Yes, it may mean I will have to advocate more fiercely for myself when I arrive at the hospital late in labor and decline the interventions the hospital will want.
But I now feel sure enough of myself to move forward, knowing that this truly is the best choice for me. The best chance I have for a VBAC. The best chance for a healthy, term infant.
And I am happy.