On November 18 I had an appointment with my doctor to discuss what was going on with my second pregnancy. I was 41+2 and hoping to VBAC, and had done a very fast NST at 41 weeks that came back completely normal. My doctor had previously expressed that he would be comfortable allowing me to continue past 41 weeks if the NST was fine, but when I arrived for my appointment and he examined me, he furrowed his brow and told me that something just didn't seem right. The baby's head had been floating for about 3 weeks despite everything I was trying to do to help it engage, I was weirdly uncomfortable in my left hip, and my cervix was still extremely high and hard to reach. He told me he was concerned about the lie of the baby and ordered an ultrasound, which revealed that baby had slipped into an oblique position at some point (I had noticed a change myself from what I assume was a normal position and had been complaining to my husband for weeks that it felt like baby was stuck in my hip instead of where it should be).

The doctor told me that, in his opinion, there wasn't much that could be done at that point. We could wait and see, of course, but he said that he thought it was time to schedule another c-section, and I found myself agreeing. I had already researched oblique lie. I had tried everything SpinningBabies had to offer because I sort of already knew baby was tied up in my hip and I had been trying to relieve the pressure. My husband had already spent a week of vacation at home waiting for the baby (he had to book it in advance and took it for the week after my due date, which had been the 9th) and needed to be back at work that day. I was tired and didn't want to have a labour like last time. So, we scheduled for pretty much exactly 24 hours later.

We called my mother-in-law who decided to come around 9pm, and my husband went back to work to tie up some loose ends before his paternity leave kicked in. Meanwhile, I put our daughter down for a nap and found myself alone for what would be the last time for a long time.

I mourned, but instead of mourning the loss of what was supposed to be a healing journey, I mourned myself. When I had to have my first section I thought I was going to die. This time I was certain I might die, that I would leave my husband a widower and my daughter and as-yet-unborn child motherless. It terrified me. I wrote a letter to my husband and completed half a letter to my daughter before my husband unexpectedly arrived home from work early and I had to abandon the whole paranoia and pretend I was "okay" again. And pretending sort of made it okay. Sort of.

After our daughter woke up we did a little shopping (for section recovery clothes) and went out for a last meal as a family of 3. I absolutely insisted that I be the one to put my daughter to bed because I wanted that one last sweet memory of all the kisses she gave me. And although we had some laughs with my MIL when she arrived (and a glass of wine, too), I still went to bed afraid and feeling doomed.

The next morning I was allowed to sleep in a little bit and as soon as I woke up, I had a shower. I tried not to think about my bump that seemed to have been part of me forever and would be disappearing that day. I tried not to think about anything. I took out my earrings and thought about finishing my letters, but I never did. I asked my husband to take his mom out to show her how to install the carseat so I could have some alone time with my kiddo -- just in case I was never coming home.

I didn't cry because I didn't want her to be scared. But we sat and admired the Christmas tree together and she let me give her a kiss. Then it was time to go.

Pre-op was fine and I had a couple of great nurses looking after me. Everyone tried to keep the mood light and the anesthetist came in to speak with me, which I was grateful for. I explained that I did not have a spinal last time and that the epidural(s) failed on me, resulting in having to be knocked out to finish the procedure, and from there on this woman was the most fabulous thing on the planet. She was very patient and explained everything to me in great detail and really made me feel very safe.

Once I had my IV and catheter in, we were all set and I walked myself into the OR (something I did not expect!). At this point, my husband was gone getting scrubbed in. They had me sit on the table and one nurse grabbed a big blanket from the warmer to wrap around my shoulders while I waited for the anesthetist to prepare the spinal. Those few moments, barefoot with my ass perched on the edge of the operating table, were the longest in my whole life. I was staring at the floor, trying to breathe calmly, and suddenly all I could think about was my daughter and how much I missed her. I started to freak out and was holding my breath to hold back the tears (the O2 monitor was on my finger already, and the beeping from the machine went haywire because I was trying not to cry which alerted everyone in the OR) and then all of a sudden the nurse who gave me the blanket was in front of me. She put one hand on each of my shoulders, hard and heavy -- she must have been pressing down, she wasn't a large woman -- and she looked me dead in the eye. "You're okay. Right? You're okay. You're nervous because of what happened last time. This is different. You're okay." And she let me sob and she wiped my eyes and nose and let me bury my face in her chest as the spinal went in.

When I lay back on the table, the anesthetist spoke to me. Last time, I was only frozen on one side of my body and needed a local just to get the operation over with. This time, as the spinal began to work, she held an alcohol pad to my forehead. "Feel that? Feels very cold, right? Cold all across here." She went back and forth, touching down my face, my neck, my chest, each time returning to my forehead so that I could feel the difference. When she got to my stomach she reminded me that I could feel her touch, but not the cold. "That's how it will be during the procedure. Pressure, but not pain." And then she announced to everyone present that I had had a patchy epidural the last time and to be extra gentle and careful.

They let my husband in and he held my hand. He said, "Hi beautiful," and I said, "Just keep talking to me. Just talk." We talked about last night's dinner and about our daughter and how sweet she is, and suddenly there was a big strong cry and I whispered, "We have another baby." My husband went over to see, and told me the baby was amazing and beautiful, then had to go back for another look and pictures. "It's a boy. We have a son."

Everything disappeared. All the fear, dread, disappointment, everything. I got to hear and see my boy right away, and I alternated between stupidly grinning and sobbing. He was 8lbs 11oz, 21.25" long (almost a pound heavier than my daughter at the same length) with a good amount of very dark hair and the sweetest lips.

His big sister is wonderful with him and I'm not quite sure yet, but I think I might feel complete. The birth was not what I had hoped for or planned, but so drastically different from what I went through the first time that I'm not even afraid of having another child after this if that's part of the universe's (and our) grand scheme.