My final OB/GYN appointment was Wednesday, January 21. I had an ultrasound to get the Squirmy's measurements to determine how big the baby was.
My OB was very concerned about how big she seemed to be measuring -- she guessed ten pounds -- and told me she recommended a C section the following day. I was upset that I wasn't going to have the vaginal birth I had tried so hard to prepare for, but after discussing it further with her I agreed.
I called my husband to tell him the C section news, went to Wal*Mart, picked up some snacks and extra pajamas, and grabbed some comfort food at Wendy's before heading home.
That night I cried a lot. I hadn't researched Cesareans in the same in-depth way I had researched vaginal birthing, so the next day seemed more foreboding even though I crammed on what to expect on the Internet all night.
One of our home teachers came over that night and gave us both a blessing -- me so that I would endure the surgery, and Kevin so that he wouldn't pass out in the operating room (a legitimate concern as he blacked out during one of the birthing classes at the vague description of an epidural procedure).
I went to bed and did not sleep. I cried and cried, I was so anxious about the next day (mind, I had gotten only a couple of hours of sleep the night before, so you can imagine how exhausted I already was). Eventually I found a sleep hypnosis track on YouTube that I played from my phone and may have gotten a couple of phases into sleep by the next morning, but I kept waking up.
The next morning I didn't feel as anxious, probably because the wait was almost over. We packed the car and went to Mercy to check in. I remember a little paperwork and then being offered a wheelchair up to the birthing floor, which I declined. They showed us to the room where we would spend three days after the surgery, laid out a gown to change into, and left. Hubs went down to the car to bring up the hospital bags, and I got changed.
The worst part of operation prep? Getting poked for an IV! I hadn't been allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight the previous night, so my veins were difficult to get -- not to mention the nurse prodding at me was new and a bit clumsy.
By the time I was successfully hooked up,my husband was back with the bags and our friend Katie, who is a surgical nurse, had come (as backup in case Kevin did indeed black out and have to miss the cesarean). Kevin was given scrubs and instructed to change in the bathroom connected to our room. He came out and we took a few pictures of the two of us.
The next thing I knew, I was being rolled down the hall to surgery. My stomach tightened as we exited the warm, baby-themed hallway and entered the cold, white operation room through two sets of double doors.
They rolled my bed right up against the operating table, which was long and narrow. The anesthesiologist, Paul, was very friendly and good-humored, but as I sat on the edge of the table trying to slump over as I was instructed, I began to shake uncontrollably and the tears came -- not in sobs, but in a quiet panic. This was happening! The nurses were SO KIND to me and held my hand and asked me to describe the baby's nursery while I was being numbed for the dreaded spinal. I feared I'd get tapped and be forever paralyzed -- of course, that didn't happen.
Once the spinal was completed, they laid me down on my back and, chatting with each other, rolled me underneath the lights. I could see the reflection of my bare belly as they rubbed it with iodine. Paul did some tests with an alcohol wipe on my belly, asking me what I could feel and what I couldn't until he was confident I was properly numb and paralyzed from the waist down. Then the curtain went up. My OB told me about how long her procedures usually take and had me predict when the baby would be out. I guessed 2:01. Just before they cut into me, my husband was brought in. He was brilliant. There I was, my arms strapped down, a curtain lying between my face and my mostly naked, very pregnant, iodine-smeared body, trying to keep my breathing at an even pace even though I was crying. He brought his face close to mine and stroked my hair and reminded me we were about to meet our baby, and told me how well I was doing. It was exactly what I needed.
Shortly I could feel a tugging sensation in my abdomen and after a few minutes Paul asked me to speed to my breathing. The tugging sensation grew stronger and then I heard a tiny, muffled cry that grew into a full yell. After a few seconds, I heard my OB announce that the baby was a girl, and they popped her around the curtain. She was red, covered in blood, and screaming, still attached to a long umbilical cord. She disappeared briefly as they cleaned her up and cut the cord, and then was brought by my face for the skin-to-skin contact I had requested earlier. I kept saying "Hi baby girl," and "I love you." Surprisingly, I cried less after I met her than I had been before the surgery.
Then it was time for them to take her away to be cleaned, weighed, etc, and for me to be sewn up. Even though we had already planned on doing this, I told my husband twice to go with them to do skin-to-skin with her. He later said that as he left the operation room, he turned back and looked briefly, saw my abdomen completely disassembled, and got out of there pretty fast.
Natalie born at exactly 2:00 PM on Thursday, January 22, 2015 and weighed 8 pounds, 9 ounces and measured 20.5 cm long
As I was being sewn up, my OB called out to Paul, "Paul... the intestines are falling out!" Paul looked over at her and said, "Well, put them back in!" Jokesters, I tell you.
I don't remember how long it was between the time I was back in my room and the time Natalie, then still unnamed, was placed in my arms, but I don't think it was very long at all. Kevin had done about twenty minutes of skin-to-skin with her and she was rooting for the breast already.
The next three days consisted of struggling to sleep because of the whirring, beeping, and clicking machines I was hooked up to, waiting for the feeling and movement to come back into my legs, working on standing and walking again, sending pictures to parents and friends, and struggling to breastfeed. Visitors came, gifts came, and we deliberated for a good couple of days on a name for our daughter before agreeing on Natalie Renee.
Now Natalie is just over a month old, five weeks old tomorrow. I can't believe the time that has passed already, as long as the days have seemed due to lack of sleep. We are adjusting to each other but my husband and I both adore her and I daresay she likes us, too.
