Yesterday I had my first appointment with the midwives since the diagnosis.
I love these midwives, I really do. The care is so very different from what I've received in the past. They are woman-centered, very positive thinking.
I was so scared I would be sent away. Risked out. They are all nurse midwives, and work in concert with an OB practice, and so have to bow to the doctors on some things.
But I wasn't. The midwife asked whether the specialist had explained my options. I told her he had, and that I was not going to terminate, but to carry this as far forward as I can. She warned me that it will increase my risks of c-section, as there are few options for inducing VBAC patients.
I knew that, of course, but it's a constant of my life that I may wind up having another c-section and nothing but c-sections from then on. I'm OK with that, in other words.
(And for the record, it did not come across at all as though she was pressuring me to terminate. This is the midwife who delivered my son and, when I said he wasn't the last, assumed I was having as many as God would give me.)
That settled, I was given the good news: they are indeed treating this as a normal pregnancy in every respect, even with the known outcome. I am grateful. I go back in a month, have my GD test at 28 weeks, etc.
We got to hear Psalm-Angel's heartbeat. In the 150s again. S/he slapped at the fetal doppler. Definitely my child, my easily-annoyed child. I thought my husband would cry when we heard it, but no.
I am as happy as it is possible to be, right now.