Party planning and c-sections

How in the world does your child's first birthday party turn into the event of the century? Nat's party is this weekend, and it won't be over fast enough. I have about 463 people attending, most of whom I don't know. I have to cook all of this food while battling a seriously queasy stomach, fighting the urge to dry heave and vomit all over what I've just prepared. We have friends coming in from out of town, arriving tomorrow, and of course we'll have to entertain them while they're here. How am I supposed to entertain when I'm usually dead asleep (thank you, Phenergan rectal suppositories that do nothing for nausea but make me delirious and sleepy) by 8:30? Stay tuned for updates. I'm sure there will be at least one disaster to report on.

Saw the OB on Tuesday for a checkup. Baby's still in there. It has verifiable legs and arms now. Looks like the arms are coming out of its mouth. Great. Bad news is that the pregnancy is in the left horn of my uterus. Back up for a minute. What, you say? You have a horn in your uterus? Yes, dear bloggers, I have a two-pronged uterus. A bicornuate uterus. It has two horns, kind of like the devil. Apropos, no? In any case, I'm pregnant on the left side, which is where the pregnancy was the last time around. At a prior visit the doctor had told me that if the pregnancy was in the right horn then we would attempt a vaginal birth rather than another c-section. So of course, because I'm convinced that God hates me, it's not in the right side. Which means an automatic c-section. Too much risk of uterine rupture. Fabulous thought, eh?

So. Last time I didn't know I was having a c-section until I got to the hospital. Now I have months and months to anticipate major surgery. So what's the big deal? Well, I'm uber-lucky enough to have a rare blood clotting disorder...so rare that I was graced with a pulmonary embolism in 2003...and, well, major surgery + clotting disorder = a bit of anticipatory anxiety. So while the average Jill runs the risk of dying during or after major surgery, my risk is just a little bit higher.

So excuse me if I can't rejoice over the little bundle soon to come. Excuse me if I'm less than thrilled about being pregnant at the moment. I'm being a little bit selfish right now in worrying that I'm going to kick the bucket, leaving my baby who is already here and already a huge part of my heart without a mother and without the memories of me, as he's really too young to remember me and all the love I've given him in this last year. Happy thoughts, aren't they?