So I've got this thing called Vasa Previa. In doctor's terms, it means Yoda and I are sharing a blood vessel that is covering my cervix. In Momma's terms, it means probable bed rest, no exercise, definite C-Section (four weeks early), and lots of other restrictions of which I will spare you all the details. Let's just say this woman in her thirties resembles a constipated nun.
The thing I love about being a woman in her thirties is that there is an assumption of maturity about you. It's like when you hear a British person say something-- they are automatically more legitimate because their accent makes them so. A woman in her thirties is, by definition, able to handle life's curve balls better than a woman in her twenties. And I won't even get into a woman in her forties-- she's handles it all with her hair highlighted and her lipstick un-smeared.
I, on the other hand, have been handling this whole Vasa Previa thing like a big... FAT... baby. When I'm not crying about the C-Section, I'm whining about the restrictions and fuming about the bed rest. (P.S. if one more person tells me that bed rest is their dream come true, I reserve the right to kick their ass.) I'm mad. I'm really, really mad. I don't want this to be my story. I don't want to have Yoda early. I don't WANNA. The best way I can describe it is to say I feel cheated-- cheated out of a normal pregnancy, cheated out of time getting on the floor and playing with Anna. Vasa Previa affects 1 in 5000 pregnancies-- am I seriously the 1 in 5000? SERIOUSLY??
And then I get more mad when I think about stupid I'm being. A C-Section? Hello, women have them every day. Bed rest? Duh, better than having a premature baby. Yoda is healthy, and that is all that should matter. This is a few months of my life, not a big deal. I'll get through it. Grow UP.
I am usually able to wrestle thoughts like this easily. I have grown into a pragmatic woman in her thirties who can easily spot the forest from the trees. This, however, has thrown me. Just when I think I've accepted it, I get caught up in another whirlwind of why me, poor me, life sucks. And then I turn on the news and look at what's going on in Sudan, and then I want to kick my own ass.
When I first moved to China, a friend gave me a great piece of advice. She told me that the best thing I could do for myself was to ride-- not fight-- the roller coaster. She said I should allow myself to relish the good days, and throw myself a pity party every now and then when I got frustrated or homesick. These words proved to be invaluable to me living overseas, and are invaluable to me now.
Damn, this Vasa Previa thing really blows.
But this perfect little face... so worth it.