I suppose my birth story is a little less crazy since I had a scheduled c-section. I didn't break my water in the middle of the night and we didn't frantically pack ourselves up and make the half hour drive to the hospital. My story is a little different.
My biggest worry was hunger. I know it sounds silly (it is), but my c-section was scheduled for 1pm on Wednesday 12/24, and I wasn't allowed to eat for 8 hours before then. That means I could not have a single thing to eat or drink after 5am. This is really distressing for a pregnant person.
The night before, Chris and I went out for a "last supper" sort of thing at my favorite restaurant- P.F. Chang's. We got the Mongolian Beef and our staple- Dan Dan Noodles. We talked about what the next day would bring, and mused about whether or not we would be able to sleep that night. I enjoyed the last moments of strangers staring at my gargantuan baby belly, and relished the kicks Harvey was sending into my organs in appreciation of a full belly.
When we got home, we set the alarm for 4am so that I could wake up and eat. No kidding, either. I was so concerned about being hungry that I
volunteered to wake up before the sun to have leftover Dan Dan Noodles. It was worth it. Although I wasn't sure if I would be able to sleep due to the anticipation of it all, I was still pregnant and exhausted and really had no problem falling asleep. I was able to wake up at 4 and was back asleep by 4:30 after a giant plate of noodles and a bottle of water.
We slept in as long as we could to pass the time, and were up and ready to go in plenty of time. We packed up our bags into the car and started the trek to the hospital. I really thought that I would be more nervous. I was so worried that I would be nervous that I had asked my mom not to come up before the surgery because I didn't want to make a big deal out of it and psych myself out. The weird thing was, I was calm and content. Even though I knew that I would have a baby in a few hours and that I'd likely be in pain, I was not worried. Not nervous.
When we got to the hospital, we followed the labyrinth to the green elevators that seemed like they were in the middle of a maze but were the only ones that would lead us to the correct wing of the 3rd floor. We got up there and I registered and I was sent to triage. Chris was directed to our room to drop off our stuff, and I started the triage process alone. My nurse's name was Marisol, and at first I thought she was a little bit abrasive and a tad stand-offish, but she really grew on me. She asked me a million questions, started an IV in my right arm and then again in my left arm when that one blew out. I got a bunch of bracelets to wear on my wrist and some no-slip socks. Finally, I asked her to go find Chris, because the receptionist lady had just sent him to our room without any further instruction, and he was dressed in scrubs and at my side in a few minutes. As Marisol finished my triage, she said "Do you feel that?" Since I didn't feel anything, I said "Feel what?" She told me that I was contracting, and that they looked pretty impressive on paper and were fairly close together. Since this was the case, Marisol sort of ramped up the triage process because she wanted me to get in the OR before I went into actual labor, so I met with the anesthesiologist and we headed over to the operating room.
The operating room was terrifying. A cold hard floor and a freezing room with a table that looked fit for torture in the middle. This is where I expected to get really scared, but I was resigned instead. This is what it was going to take to get my kid out, and it's what I had to do. No sense in being scared. Then they started the spinal. And that
hurt. They have you sit on the edge of the
torture table bed, and ask you to bend over and round your back.
Um, excuse me?
It is ridiculously hard to just casually round your back when you have 40 pounds worth of baby and a giant set of ta-tas in the way. Adding to that, when I finally got into a semi-rounded-back position, I had the anesthesiologist pressing on each of the vertebrae in my spine to find the right place for the spinal. He found it, placed it (this part hurt like a b), and decided it was not the right place. That meant I had to do it all over again, just a little further down. This is where I decided I loved Marisol. While everyone else is just doing their own thing preparing for the procedure, Marisol was standing in front of me, talking to me and holding my hands as I tried not to cry when the second spinal was placed. Since Chris wasn't allowed in the room yet, it was really nice to have that person... and her hands to squeeze.
After that, Chris came in and they helped me lay back and then I had to put my arms out and lay crucifixion-style. Since I still had a slightly elevated level of amniotic fluid, they had to prop up my right hip a bit so that it could drain out as they did the procedure. This is also the part where they poke and prod at you to make sure you can't feel any pain. I did.
When I was 8 or so, I had to get stitches in my toe. They gave me novacaine and asked my if I could feel any pain, and I said no. I was lying. I lied and it hurt and I spent the time it took to place 5 stitches screaming into my mother's ear because I could feel everything. That's when I decided to NEVER lie about novacaine again.
Since I could still feel it, they gave me a second dose of whatever medicine they gave me the first time and we waited. Thankfully this one worked. I couldn't feel a thing (aside from pressure), so they started. I was freezing. So cold, in fact, that they removed the hospital blankets and gave me a bear-hugger instead. This is a plastic thingamajig that they hook up to a fan that fills it with hot air and keeps you warm. My neck and shoulders were hurting from shivering and tensing up from the cold. This was added to the fact that I had two grown women using all of their strength and pressing on me trying to get H to come out. It felt like I was getting chest compressions, and I was pretty sure that, despite not feeling any actual pain, I was going to have bruises all over my abdomen after everything was over. (I didn't).
After what seemed like a split second and an hour at the same time, I felt them lift Harvey out of me and we heard his first cry! He only cried for a moment and then they put him in his little bassinet and hurried to do all they needed to do so that at least Chris could hold him. Our little champ hardly cried as they poked him in the heel for bloodwork and gave him a shot in his thigh. They had set up a mirror for me so that I could see him as they checked him out, and then Chris was holding him right next to me and I was trying not to cry.
My baby was here. We were parents.
Chris held it together and they sewed me up (this is the part that seemed like an eternity). I went to the recovery room and held my precious baby and fed him for the first time. I couldn't feel my legs (and wouldn't be able to for quite some time due to the double dose), but I was so happy to have that boy in my arms. I also couldn't get over how much thinner I was!
It was over- according to the doctor it only took about an hour from the first incision to the last stitch. A whole lifetime and a split second later, and I had our little Harvey Lennox Stocking. Best gift ever.
4. Baby clothes should only come in outfits. I have all these random onesies, but no pants to match! I have a compulsive need to put matching clothes on my child (I'm sure this will fade....maybe), but I just don't have that many outfits. Especially ones with long sleeves. It's winter, man! This has lead to me scouring the Carter's/Kohl's/Old Navy/Children's Place/Etc websites, adding a million items to my cart, deciding I am a crazy person and I cannot possibly spend $100 on clothes my child may only wear for a couple weeks, and closing out of the website (and my cart) entirely. Several times a week.
