So, today's my due date, and this kid isn't anywhere near ready to come out (for those who keep track of such things, still 1 cm, 50-60% effaced, baby hasn't engaged yet). So I find myself back at square 1, choosing between a possibly-dangerous induction and a fervently unwanted c-section.
That's not to say that all of the doctor-changing angst has been for naught. To their credit, the practice I switched two has been really great about explaining exactly why it's a bad thing that I am about to be post-dates. Nobody has so much as whispered concerns about the baby's size; rather, the concern is that post-dates babies, especially those of gestational diabetics, are at a much increased risk of sudden and unexplained (and therefore unpreventable) fetal death. The risk is still small -- somewhere between 4 8 out of 1000 for a well-controlled GD like me, but it does still exist, and I can't really blame the doctors for wanting to do anything possible to eliminate that risk.
Still, I can't say as I'm happy right now. While the greatest part of me is mindful of exactly how lucky we are even to be having this beautiful, healthy little girl, there is a small part of me that wants to lay down on the floor and throw a temper tantrum. I just wanted one thing about having this second child to work out like we'd dreamed, you know? I really wanted the chance to learn from the mistakes we made from M's birth, and to see if my body was indeed capable of doing something normal and right for once. I guess we know the answer now.
All is not totally lost. We are probably going to try for the induction, but even if we can't do that, the c-section isn't until next Thursday (the 12th). There still remains a chance, however remote, that I will go into labor by myself before then. To that end, I'll be taking M to the mall and marching around for hours to encourage the child to drop, then doing all of those other "natural induction" things that they say could help. I figure I have nothing to lose at this point.