Fifteen seconds

We arrived at the hospital right on time. Checked in with admissions, registered and made our way to the antepartum unit. I was nervous but more excited than anything. Our nurse came out to get us. Wow she seemed young. Capable, and with a ponytail, but when did nurses get younger than me? Apparently some time ago.

We were ushered into the room, given a gown and hooked up to a monitor. The tears started to flow. I started to feel the fear. Not the life-shifting fear, that came later. This was hospital fear. IV and catheter fear. The sweet young nurse patted my hand and talked gently to me about hormones and all the emotion I must be feeling. I tried to play it off, this is what I do I said, trying to breathe deeply and save the hysterics for a really frightening event. Something slightly scarier than the elastic mesh girdle I was sporting.

The resident doctor came in and introduced himself. His handshake was weak and his hand was clammy. Again, he seemed too young to be there. I asked him some questions; how long does the C Section take? Will I get an epidural? His answers were unconvincing. He thought about 30-45 minutes and he wasn't sure. Have you ever done this before I asked and laughed to be polite but I wasn't really joking. He meekly smiled back and went down his endless checklist, asking me about high blood pressure, diabetes, family history, blah blah blah. I watched the clock as he droned on. Time was going by at warp speed. I tried to calculate how many minutes until I would meet my baby boy.

The nurse returned with news that some laboring moms had some babies with straining heartbeats. We might get bumped. I always get bumped. We didn't get bumped. OB number three came in, as did the anesthesiologist. No percoset. I told them. I was really sick last time. What are my options? I would receive a spinal, not an epidural. They could use a fast action morphine that would wear off in a couple of hours or they could use something that lasts longer. Will either of them make me sick? No, answered both the OB and the anesthesiologist. The fast acting one then, please. I don't want to be numb any longer than I have to be.

There was trouble with the IV. Tell me a joke I said to my husband, my three year old's favorite diversion. He cracked a smile and distracted me with Yo Gabba Gabba references. They tried the other hand. It hurt. A lot. No luck. They called in another nurse. The third time was the charm. They brought in scrubs for my husband. I commented on how odd that they would make him wear a hairnet when he had more chest hair showing than hair on his head. Minutes kept ticking away. My heart was pounding. Its time, they said and stood me up.

When I delivered my little man I was wheeled in to the Operating Room. I never really saw it. This was completely different. They dropped my husband along the way and said they would call him when I was ready. They walked me into the bright, white, sterile room. I saw it all. The big round overhead lights, the instruments, the table. I felt the chill air on my skin. I started to cry. The anticpation of meeting my son could do nothing to damped my fear of what was about to happen. They sat me on the table and told me to arch my back like a cat. I couldn't breathe. I started to sob. Gutteral crying sounds were coming out of me and I couldn't stop it. The nurses fretted around me. We're going to take good care of you, you're going to be just fine, you are about to meet your baby. I knew all these things. I believed them. I was still falling apart and no hand patting or soft talking could pull me out of it.

Fifteen seconds was all it took for the morphine to set in. They started to insert the catheter. I wanted to say wait, I can feel that, but I couldn't actually, just the pressure. Within half a minute my body felt warm and soft and I could hardly talk. This feels good, I thought, I got the good drugs. My husband came in. Have they started I asked him? He didn't know. I cried a lot, I confessed. That's alright, he said kindly. He talked to me about Foofa and DJ Lance Rock. I smiled weakly as they went to work on my midsection, pulling and tugging. I could hear the OR team giving instructions. With my first C Section, an emergency one, everyone spoke in hushed tones. This time I could hear everything, commands like "Suction" and "Irrigation" and names of instruments. 

Time to stand up dad, said the anesthesiologist. Do you want to? I asked him, still coherent enough to think he might pass out and how I really didn't want that to happen. He stood up but kept his eyes on mine. Minutes went by. Again the anesthesiologist spoke but this time it was Dad, you should sit down. The tugging and pulling got more intense. Tugging turned into rocking. My whole body was rocking on the table. I felt tremendous pressure on my lungs and I was wondering how on earth are they all the way up there? "Knife!" I heard, then again "Knife!" I wanted to look at my husband but I could only close my eyes and try to breathe. I had no worry for the baby, I knew he was going to be fine in the way that only a drugged mother can have. I had no alternative.

Finally, I felt a rush of air into my lungs. I can feel it. I said out loud, thinking they had pulled out the baby. They hadn't. My husband told me later that pressure and release I felt was the result of two doctors, literally on top of me. "Big baby" said the doctor, then again, a chorus of voices "Big baby, big baby and he's going to be a full back..." I heard his cry before I saw his face. I wondered before he was born if the sound of a newborn crying would be unfamiliar to me. It wasn't. They held him up so I could see him. He was perfect. There were tears in my husbands eyes and for once, none in mine. I was too drugged to cry but I still felt that wave wash over me. The one you feel when you lay eyes on your baby. It wasn't instant love like I have read about, but it was one of recognition and deep, deep gratitude. 

We had agreed ahead of time that my husband would go to the nursery with the baby. Are you sure you want me to go? He asked. Go, I told him. Be with him. I watched him disappear from sight and closed my eyes again. The anesthesiologist tried to make small talk. I wasn't in the mood. He asked about my other son, who was watching him, how old was he? He asked where we lived, what work we did. I asked if he had kids. He didn't. Lots of neices and nephews. Gay. I thought.

It was done and I listened to the OR technician accounting for all the instruments. One, two, three, four, five, six I heard her count again and again. I remember thinking she sounded uncanningly like my three year old reading his Sesame Street book as they lifted me from the table to a bed and wheeled me out. Young sweet nurse sat with me in the recovery room. You did great, she repeated again and again. I couldn't stop shaking. I didn't feel good. I told her so. Then I started to heave. Again and again and again. They tried Zofran. It didn't work. They tried another dose. It didn't work either. My husband arrived without the baby. I'm sorry I said meekly as he wiped my sweaty brow and emptied my bin. They thought it would be better if they waited to bring in the baby until I felt better. Only I didn't feel better. He was brought in for a visit and then returned to the nursery so I could "rest". I was given more IV nausea meds and many hours later a patch was put behind my ear. Finally I stopped throwing up but was too dizzy to open my eyes. 

It was morning before I held my infant and touched his fingers and toes. Before I could hug my husband and smile and actually mean it. There were tears ahead and I'm sure there will be many more in my journey to parent this child, but the smile on my face was huge as we drove away from the hospital and I said "I am so glad that is over".

 

Comments

[NES]

You made me cry because I can say I know exactly how you felt. With my c-section daughter: I remember the tugging, the conversations relating to the operation that I didn't want to hear, but mostly - I remember how I was so sick and so shaky that I couldn't hold her for hours. You just had a baby, you want to hold your baby, and yet you sort of don't want to for how rotten you feel and what if you drop your baby on the floor from the shaking... but now you're home and everyone is great, so focus on that - and congratulations!

[mrs. chicken]

I was right there with you in this post. Gorgeous and heartbreaking.

And I am scared as hell this time. Thank you for showing me that it's OK to cry.

[Jerri Ann]

This sounds almost exactly like my 2nd c/s. Mine was an emergency b/c I was only 35 weeks but even still, I got bumped for 2 ladies who were further than me in the process. But, the puking, girlfriend, the puking.

I joke that I started puking at implantation and I puked til that kid (both of them) were extracted from my body. I thought it was just prep for all the stinky poop, lol.

[Lady M]

I thought planned C-sections were supposed to be uncomplicated (ha - right). So happy that he arrived safely and that you have two beautiful boys.

[amy]

oh my gosh, i cried through that entire post. congratulations on your boy--what a journey you've been on.

[nonlineargirl]

Wow. What an amazing, heartfelt post. Thanks for sharing all that with us.

[Kelly]

I also had a c-section and can relate to some of what you experienced.

[In the Trenches of Mommyhood]

Your birth story literally gave me chills, as I had practically the exact same experience with my Middle. Boy #2, scheduled c-section, spinal, sick afterwards... All the same.

[Binky]

Thanks for sharing the momentous day with us.

And, yeah, who knew that nurses are like high school freshmen--we grow older and they stay the same age? ;)

[Kimberly]

I had the same shaking/nausea after my c-section. Sucky, yes, but a momentary blip in the wonderful journey you'll have as his mom.

Congrats again.