Emotional

At my appointment today they scheduled my c-section. Because it's scheduled, you can submit preferences but in general you're basically just assigned a slot, so I prioritized requesting my own doctor. When they called me to confirm the time, the lady on the other line was excited, saying in a sing-songy voice, "I know when your baby's birthday is!" and I was not in the mood for it. I was feeling very emotional. 

The date isn't what I had in mind. For some reason I thought I'd be able to just pick a time and date on the calendar. I don't know what I was thinking because that's not at all how hospitals work. I might dislike that it's an odd day? I don't know. I also got caught off-guard that we have to be there so early, like at 5 am. Apparently that's because scheduled c-sections get bumped if there's a labor or emergency c-section, so they schedule them right at the start of the doctor's shift to cushion the time. I don't necessarily care about the time or the wait or the bump, but in my mind I thought I'd have time to drop my son off at school before heading to the hospital. Needing to be at the hospital at 5 am means he needs to start his night elsewhere, but more than that, it means that he will wake up and we won't be there. 

It's true that all of our worlds are about to be turned upside down. The difference is that we as adults understand that something big is coming and we can mentally prepare. At two years old, our son is just a baby himself and has no idea what's ahead. It's not just that he's young; he grew up in a pandemic and to say his world is narrow would be a huge understatement. He's never been on a bus or a train or in a restaurant or library. I hate the idea of leaving him and the thought that he might feel abandoned or confused makes me ugly cry. Pandemic restrictions mean he's not even allowed to visit at the hospital and when I think about how much I'll miss him I can't stop crying. It's least about me, but if this is how I feel, I can only imagine how he will feel.

I asked a bunch of questions about the date and she humored me, answering them, but there was really no flexibility. I could change the date but then it wouldn't be my doctor. I could change to the following week but my doctor's shift is past my due date and they don't want me to go past that. The week prior is too early for a scheduled cs. There's no flexibility with the time, but I think I'll ask about that at my next appt. 

I know it's incredibly privileged to be disappointed by a date. I'm lucky I can try to plan ahead. There's a reason why traditionally the Jewish response to a pregnancy announcement is "B'Shaa Tova" instead of Mazel Tov. B'Shaa tova is Hebrew and literally means "in a good hour," or in other words, all in good time. Whenever this happens, that's the right time that it's supposed to happen. It's also a way to recognize that something good is on its way but not necessarily here yet, reminding us not to take for granted healthy, full-term pregnancies. I understand all this and I believe that whatever is supposed to happen will happen when it's supposed to. 

The other piece of it keeps making me cry. Depending on how recovery goes, best case scenario is that we're released within a day or two. I tear up at the thought of being apart and I'm having a hard time with it. I know he'll be in good hands with whoever we leave him with, and that he will get over it and be ok with minimal long-term effects, if any. For likely not the last time, I feel guilt that one baby's needs are taking priority over another's.