Birth story; Part 3

So she gave us two outcomes. We would wait it out a bit, making sure I and the baby were handling everything well, and see if the bleeding slowed or we would have an emergency c-section. The waiting lasted about five minutes. Our baby was doing fine - not reacting to what was going on at all. I, on the other hand, continued to bleed heavily. The doctor checked one last time and said she couldn't let me continue to bleed this way. We all would prep for an emergency cesarean. 

I had always envisioned a vaginal birth. I had been almost looking forward to it. It had somehow come with territory, a woman's right type of thing. I knew it would be hard, but I also knew a great deal of accomplishment and pride would come from the strength it would take to have my baby the natural way. 

But when the doctor said we needed to have a c-section, I wasn't scared at all. I wasn't disappointed or bitter. And to be honest, at this point in time in my labor, I wanted the pain of the last 12 hours to stop and I couldn't imagine progressing this slowly for another, what, 24 hours maybe? Knowing that we could have our baby within the hour was such a welcoming thought. Knowing these nasty contractions would be over was almost as welcoming. What I didn't know, was that I hadn't yet known real pain…

After the doctor broke my water, my contractions apparently decided to come from a deeper part of hell because they were excruciating (to the full extent of the word). Since my uterus lost so much fluid so fast and unnaturally, and because something had gone wrong with the placenta, the pain of contractions was multiplied what seemed like a million times. It made the previous pains feel like a nice back rub compared to what was going on now. 

Scott suited up in his hospital blues while the doctor came in to explain what would all happen in the next few minutes and I was laying in bed moaning and wincing and flopping in pain. I didn't hear a word she said except for the heavenly word "epidural" and I didn't care about much else. 

I don't remember what Scott did at this time, I know he was beside me, but I went tunnel vision. It takes a lot of strength to withstand that kind of discomfort. The anesthesiologist came in to explain the epidural procedure. I also didn't care about his instructions, just give me the damn drugs already! He sat by my head and began explaining, looked at the monitors and said, "You're having a contraction, I'll wait until it's over." I told him it wouldn't be over - these babies were constant. He apparently didn't believe me because he sat in silence for what seemed like 10 minutes, then realized I wasn't lying and gave his shpeal while I writhed in pain. It's amazing how social conduct and self consciousness goes out the window - I didn't' care one bit that my legs were spread eagle while people were poking around my lady parts as I loudly moaned and groaned so that my unshowered and greasy self could let some of my aching out. 

I was lifted to a different bed with wheels. For some reason they wouldn't let Scott come with me, so I was wheeled through the halls by myself, still flopping around like a crazed fish. We entered the operating room and I remember thinking I felt like I was in a movie. It was sterile and white and at one end of the room there was a table with a million shiny silver instruments. 

They started moving and twisting me how they wanted, strapping my arms down, moving my head. It was so, so painful. I remember it all in a blur, I couldn't focus on anything for too long, I couldn't comprehend much more than a few words at a time. Everything was surreal. 

It was finally epidural time. They said they wanted me to sit up and bend over. I told them no, I couldn't. I could barely move in any direction, let alone sit straight up. So they settled for me laying on my side and curving my back outward. I could barely do that. I felt a slight prick, but that was all. Then I felt the most wonderful thing - my chest went numb, then my torso, my waist, my legs. And the pain was gone. In a matter of seconds this beautiful feeling of nothing set in. I cannot fully explain how it made me feel. I was so relieved. I was a little loopy. I could take in what was around me. I could hear people again. I wasn't stuck in my own head, fighting off pain. Epidurals are truly amazing. 

Scott came in and sat by my head behind the blue screen they had up (again, just like the movies). He held my hand. I think he was relieved I was joking and seemingly fine. He found it funny that I liked my drugs so much. 

Then they started to "gut" me, as Scott still refers to it. :) And he watched everything. I felt nothing. At one point he looked at me and said, "You wouldn't believe what they are doing to you."

The anesthesiologist said I would be feeling some pressure in my chest, but to continue to breath because my initial response would be to hold my breath. I did as he asked and there was the pressure, up in my rub cage. I wish I could remember exactly what he said, but it was something like, "You've got a lively one," because we could hear a tiny cry while our baby was still half in me. And then the pressure was gone, the crying was louder and these little while feet and legs were being held with playtex gloves above the blue curtain and I saw my baby for the first time. That was in me. That was my baby. We had made that. 

Scott looked at me and asked if he should stay with me or go with the nurse and the baby to be measured. I told him to go with them. A minute or two later Scott came back through the doors with out little baby. He had this look of ownership, he was already a parent. He looked so proud. 

He laid the baby awkwardly on my shoulder/chest and I looked at that tiny stranger. I can still remember exactly what he looked like. Tears came. I couldn't believe it had finally happened. Scott said "I had something in my eye, I'm not crying," with a soft smile. 

And everything that had preceded that moment didn't matter. We were there, together and as a family. It was over and it was all just beginning. 

My mom and sister had come back and were waiting outside the operation room doors. This is a picture my sister took just minutes after he was born. I am so thankful for this photo.