Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes Part I: No, We Didn't Do It For Insurance Reasons

Whew. The last few weeks were easily the most intense days of my life so far. So eventful that I'm going to need to blog about them in installments. It'll be fun! I'll even put in cliffhangers to make you come back for more.

We left the island the day before Thanksgiving to go to my weekly midwife appointment, spend the holiday with Dave's brother and family, and then settle into our temporary baby-awaiting camp in Sturgeon Bay. At what was anticipated to be a normal, "everything's good to go", lets talk about what labor feels like for the millionth time weekly baby check we heard these plan-altering words from Marijke, "I hate to say it, but I think this is a head". While feeling the TOP of my belly. Breech again. Or still. Regardless, we were four days out from my due date. Not a promising amount of time to turn the kid. We went for an ultrasound the same day to confirm the position. Breech indeed. Folded right in half with his feet by his head...frank breech to get technical.

Suddenly we are facing a hospital birth with an OB. Luckily the referring OB for the birth center is easily the most wonderful woman in the world. She'd performed our 20 week ultrasound and we'd loved her then. After confirming the breech, Doc informed us of our options: try an external version to turn him and if that didn't work, schedule a C-section or attempt a vaginal delivery. Doc is a maternal fetal medicine specialist and has performed many breech deliveries successfully. She said the kid and I were good candidates based on his presentation, head proportion, my health etc. We decided to try the version (the next day-Thanksgiving!!-per Doc's wishes. What OB have you ever heard of coming in on a holiday for an elective procedure? The most wonderful one in the world, that's who.)

Let me tell you something...an external cephalic version (ECV for you medical acronym fans) isn't that fun. I'd rather have been eating stuffing thank you. You go to Labor and Delivery (L&D...there's another one for you) in the hospital, they hook you up to a couple monitors (one for you, one for baby) and then Doc cranks on the outside of your stomach trying to manually push the kid into a forward roll. I'm not gonna lie-it hurts. You spend nine months trying to protect your belly and then suddenly someone's fingers are three inches deep, manhandling the womb. Ouch. And unfortunately, it was unsuccessful. She didn't try for very long as it has the potential of being distressing for the kid.

We left disappointed, freaked out and with a very big decision weighing heavily on our shoulders. Also hungry. Where do you go at 7'o'clock on Thanksgiving in Green Bay? The Golden Basket! A family diner with a $7.99 Thanksgiving dinner special. Dubious neon yellow gravy smothering the whole plate aside, it was a welcome feast at that point. It was across that cheap Formica tabletop that Dave popped the question. Or popped the statement as it were: "We should get married tomorrow." I didn't think he was serious until I saw his face. I'll leave the sappiness out, but I will say it was genuine and unexpected romance and I will remember how it felt forever (okay, a little sappiness). I wouldn't have wanted to be proposed to any other way. It was perfect.

Suddenly faced with a high-risk birth and a difficult decision to make, the scariness looming could easily have pitched us into negativity and tremendous fear. I was already skidding down that slope. Dave felt the positive energy of that commitment between us would really help get us through our first big hurdle of parenthood. He was absolutely right, and I've never been so sure about anything.

Unfortunately government offices didn't cooperate with our "lets get married tomorrow" plans, as being the day after Thanksgiving they were all closed. An agonizing, but exciting, weekend followed. We orchestrated an elaborate plan to get our birth certificates from the island (aided and abetted by some sworn-to-secrecy friends), all the while researching breech deliveries, C-sections and tightly crossing fingers and toes that baby wouldn't come on my due date (probably the only pregnant woman in history who hoped for that) so we could make it official first.

Monday morning dawned. No baby yet. We had decided not to schedule a C-section but let the little guy come on his own schedule and go into labor naturally. We would get to the hospital and take it from there. Both of us leaned heavily toward a trial by labor as long as things remained favorable and Doc was on call when it all happened. One phone call to the Clerk of Courts later and we had an appointment with a judge at 4:15. Just enough time to get our marriage license ($25 bucks extra for same day expedition), get my hair blown out, buy a new pair of shoes (I might get married in jeans but I was NOT getting married in UGGS), pick out wedding bands, and get our witnesses called in. Everything just fell into place. It was so Celestine Prophecy it almost made me want to reread the book (almost).

The ceremony was perfect. The judge read a beautiful statement and vows...I thought it'd be all "wham bam by the power vested in me", but if I could've picked out a wedding script, I couldn't have done better than this.
A sampling:
"The intimacy of love is one of life's greatest joys, and when this is combined with real friendship, both are infinitely enhanced...Marriage symbolizes the intimate sharing of two lives, yet this sharing must not diminish, but rather enhance, the individuality of each partner...We must give ourselves in love, but we must not give ourselves away. A good and balanced relationship is one in which neither person is overpowered or absorbed by the other."

Really? How great is that?

We had a delicious Italian dinner afterward with our good friends and witnesses and I went to sleep that night feeling the most secure and peaceful I'd felt in a long time.

Then I woke up at 6'o'clock to my water breaking.