Birth Story: Part II

So the ride on a gurney towards the operating room seemed so long, even though it was just down the hall. Maybe it was the hellacious contraction I was having on the way? Possibly. Hubs had a designated chair in the hallway. The nurses rolled me right by him. He was dressed in scrubs-- he looked like a new resident on Grey's Anatomy-- nervous and kind of sick. On we roll. One big door opens into a freezer type room. Seriously, it was so cold in there. To my right (which was the back of the room) there was a little baby warmer, a scale and all the jazzy shit that babies need when they are cut out of you. To my left there was the "crucifix table" which was for me. Ok, I am not a complete heathen, that table really did look like a cross. What the hell did I sign up for? What was about to go down in this room? Ma'am? Sir? Is this thing on?

I got some help being transferred from my gurney to the crucifix and I was introduced to the two anesthesiologists that would be injecting me with those lovely feel nothing drugs. Two very nice ladies-- one overseer and a late term student. This is what happens when you give birth at a teaching hospital. Eh, I didn't care. I was there for the drugs... and a baby, of course. LOL So, I had watched a few videos on c-sections so I kind of knew what was coming-- you get the feeling nothing drugs and then you get a catheter (cue record scratch... what?) but what the videos didn't focus on: this sticky covering that they put on your back BEFORE the feel nothing drugs. What the hell is that contraption? Don't they know that is not the best thing for those with hairy backs? Anyway, I was fitted with this giant freaking sticker on my whole back and a little warning about a poke. Sidenote: that shit was NOT just a poke. Yo, tell the truth-- if it is going to hurt like a bitch, I want someone to tell me "this is going to sting like no one's business, but after that you won't feel shit." I damn near jumped out of my skin when that needle was inserted in my spinal column, which is NOT what you want to do.

My feet were hanging over the edge of the crucifix table, I got the hot shot in my back and then you know what they do? They have to help you move your (now) heavy legs so you can lie down and then they angle the crucifix down (think: feet towards the sky, head towards to ground) so that the medicine can effectively travel where it needs to go. And guess what happened as I was being laid down. MY FREAKING WATER BROKE. What the fuck y'all? By this time it had been about 9.5 hours without food or water, more people had seen my hoo-ha than I could name, some chick was HANDS ON putting a catheter in and I was laying on puppy pads (again) thankfully because my water broke in the operating room. I was not amused. In the slightest. Catheter in. I'm getting poked to make sure that the medicine is working... I needed a second dose. So, I am back up in the sitting position-- didn't feel the second hot shot-- then back down on the crucifix, feet up, head down. When they finally brought hubs in he looked worried. A half hour had passed-- I think he thought they were killing me.

It was now a little after 9am and truthfully all I was thinking about was how I was going to convince these nurses that a liquid diet was NOT for me. I really wasn't worried about the surgery-- I had said a little prayer; I trusted my doctor. I could hear them talking, but there was a big blue curtain up so we couldn't see anything (not that I would look-- totally not my thing). I heard my doctor say the magical words: "you are going to feel some pressure" and 10 seconds later my daughter's butt popped out. She came out butt first which made me chuckle. It was 9:21 am and suddenly hubs and I were parents. She was not amused. I heard one little cry, then a bigger one. They walked her past us and she was actually pouting. Like, bottom lip out. I think it was because she was freezing in that OR. Hubs went to go check her out at the little baby microwave they had in the back of the room. As she warmed up, her cries filled the room. They shouted out her weight- 6 pounds, 7 ounces; 19.5 inches of baby. They wrapped her up like a burrito and brought her over to the crucifix table while I was being stitched up. Head full of hair, little body full of attitude. Totally our kid.

Once I was all bandaged up, back to recovery/prep we go. You want to know what they gave my hungry ass? ICE CHIPS. Hey-- something beautiful just happened down the hall and I will totally not take that into consideration when I cuss someone because I am starving. Hubs is slowly feeding me ice chips-- for fear that I may chew his hand off. Trust me, the liquid diet was short lived. Our joy, however, is not short lived. Two weeks into this parenthood thing and hubs and I are still staring at our daughter-- absolutely in awe that we had a part in creating this living, eating, breathing extension of ourselves. A little person that looks like us and demands our best on a daily basis. A little sleep snatcher. And we wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world.