As soon as we got in the car, everything changed. We were on our way to have a baby. I watched out the window as our house and then our street disappeared behind us. I had meticulously packed and planned for this day, and it was here. And I was freaking out a little. The landscape of our family would be changed forever, and I wasn't sure how "ready" we all were for a big change.
After getting to the hospital- I was hooked up to all the monitors in the preggo triage. It was packed- like pregnant sardines. I was well aware (from watching a lifetime worth of Baby Story episodes) that scheduled c-sections are the one-legged-stepchildren of surgical procedures and get "bumped" quite often for the emergency c-sections. Leaving one poor starving preggo tortured in the wings for who knows how long. (did I mention I had to fast for eight hours prior to arriving at the hospital? Not nice)
My head was spinning with desire for a fat, juicy jalapeno burger from Carl's Jr. I was mentally willing every woman in there to give birth without a c-section. In fact, while we were waiting, some lady had her baby right there in the stall across from us because they were out of beds and her baby was rushing down like a slip-n-slide. I was also overhearing the girl right next to me as she came in- convinced she was having her baby that day. (clearly a first timer- she was dialated to a whopping 2) When the nurse gave her the bad news (she hadn't made any progress in an hour) that she was going home I most rudely thought in my head "That's right, chick. Go home! You are not complicating my night!" (I'm a very mean pregnant starving lady)
The planets finally aligned, the doctor was there, the anesthesiologist was ready, the operating room was available, and I was wheeled right in. I will try to refrain from using expletives to describe the spinal anesthesia. I loved the anesthesiologist, she was adorable, and helpful, and took great pictures! But she tinkered around in my spine with a long needle for an inordinate amount of time. So I can only say that many nice things about her and the huge bruise she left on my back. But once she finally found the sweet spot and I went numb, it only went downhill from there. I was throwing up on the table. A lot. It was miserable.
But there was a baby! I heard the doctor comment about a large head. (glad I wasn't pushing it out my hoo-ha!) Then all the doctors and nurses marveled at his size. By that point I was preparing to see two nurses struggling under the weight of a gigantic 15 lb. baby! But one glance to the isolette assured me- he was still pretty tiny. They messed with him, and whisked the isolette away with my husband to be sewed and stapled up. Unfortunately, the ceiling had a highly reflective surface that allowed me to watch the doctor do obscene and horrible things to my insides. Just seeing my insides was gross. (turns out I am not stuffed with candy like a pinata- bummer)
Then the shaking started. I was prepared for this- I shook violently for an hour after the twins birth. That was really the only complication last time, so I wasn't worried. (I should have been worried- it was about to get so much worse) The light shaking turned out to be the least of my problems. It was the vomitting I was not prepared for. The next 16 hours would be filled with tossing my proverbial cookies. Being unable to drink even water. It was horrible. The last thing I wanted was that glorious jalapeno burger.
Join us next time for Volume II: The hospital and "rooming in." (I'm making it a series! How fun!)
Wait... I thought she had a baby boy? Yes. Yes, I did. But I dare you to go through boxes upon boxes of pink in a useless attempt to reuse the ridiculous amounts of baby paraphernalia. I refuse to get rid of my miracle blankets. Sure, they are pink. But they are awesome, and they swaddle just right. And swaddling is half the battle of getting baby to sleep for more than 15 minutes at a time. My mother seems to be horrified that he's wearing pink. This makes me giggle.