Now that the Little Lady has been with us long enough that we’ve forgotten how we ever did life without her (even her brother’s are still in love with her…amazing!), I thought I’d take some time to share the story of how she came into our lives.
I don’t think I’ve shared a birth story before and the main reason for that is because I’ve had c-sections for all 3 of my children so I didn’t really feel like that kind of birth deserved a story. Truthfully, I’ve been told that because I had surgery, I didn’t “give birth” but rather “had a baby”, as though one brought more entitlement than the other. I realize now, that these types of attitudes are complete and utter crap. There is no difference between giving and having when it comes to the birth of our babies. We grow them, we nurture them and most importantly, we love them with every ounce of our being. My kids don’t deserve any less because of the way they came into the world. I highly doubt anyone will be able to look at my kids and say “oh…those were c-section babies” any more than one would look and say “oh, that one was formula fed”. Rubbish!
But enough of that. Let’s instead focus on the day we got to meet our baby girl.
Our day started early, just after 5am. I think I finally fell asleep around 4:15am so I was good and tired, not to mention starving when I woke up. First rule of a scheduled c-section is no food past midnight. At 39 weeks pregnant, I was not happy about that and neither was my rumbling stomach.
Hunger quickly turned to anxiety as we loaded my bag in the car and set off for the hospital. The boys were at their grandparents already so it was just hubby and I and we drove, mostly in silence to the hospital.
Once there, we were triaged and given a bed in the admitting area to wait the next steps. A scheduled birth is very, very different than a spontaneous one. It’s all very relaxed, very procedural and there’s plenty of time to ask questions. The anesthesiologist came to see me and went over what he would be doing and explained his process for the spinal I’d be getting and how he wasn’t an advocate of freezing to the point of not being able to move my legs. He assured me I would feel no pain but I’d have some movement in my legs and feet. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but that would come back to haunt me later.
After, my doctor came in to see me, went over everything and before I knew it, she was off scrubbing in and I was walking down the hall to the operating room. Up to the point where hubby had to wait in a separate room while they prepped me, I was doing ok. As soon as he was gone, my heart started pounding and tears stung my eyes. Child-birth is no easy task and having full awareness that I was about 20 minutes away from being cut open and stitched back together made me forget all about my hungry stomach.
Next thing I knew, I was laying on an operating table, shivering like crazy because operating rooms (for those who don’t know) are about as warm as meat lockers. The reasons behind the cool temps are fairly obvious but when you’re buck naked except for a thin little gown, you notice the cold.
We were now ready for the real fun (a.k.a. the part of the process where the last lingering thread of my dignity gets tossed out the window). I curled up in a ball to expose my spine (and my bare butt. Awesome) and the freezing went in. Thankfully, I barely felt the prick of the needle and before I knew it, the mad rush to get me laying flat on my back before the freezing took hold was on. Suddenly, the room felt like there were 30 people rushing around, tending to me. I could hear my heart beat on the monitor and my lower extremity was feeling heavy. The majestic drape of mystery was raised and my view now consisted of a blue sheet. Luckily for me, the freezing wasn’t quite done when I felt a rush of cold air that signified that my gown had been moved out of the way and my belly and my lady bits were exposed for all to marvel at.
This feels like the perfect time to sign off Part 1. Part 2 coming up soon!