The time has come for the birth story. I know scheduled c-sections don’t leave much room for intrigue and excitement, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a special day that I want to remember for years to come. And, it was the first c-section I had that was TRULY scheduled. Harry was an emergency with a capital “E”. The very LAST thing we expected to happen. Jackson had a c-section scheduled for March 29 but I started labor on March 22 and he was delivered via c-section on March 23. It wasn’t Emergency, like Harry’s had been, but wasn’t planned either. Liam had his c-section scheduled for July 11 but we jumped the gun. It wasn’t an emergency situation, I wasn’t in labor, but it was agreed we would all feel better if he was delivered sooner. It was even less of an emergency situation than Jackson’s, but still not entirely scheduled and as such we were bumped back from noon to 2pm for delivery. Plus, we had to arrange last minute child-care, just like we had with Jackson.
Evie was scheduled for noon on Thursday, March 20 and that’s when it happened (more or less). Incredible! I even remarked to my mother in law the night before that this was the first time we had family in town BEFORE the child was born (this goes for Harry’s birth too!). The day before was surreal, to say the least. I felt so distracted, so scattered. I couldn’t concentrate on anything to save my life. And what I could concentrate on was worry. Despite having an NST that morning, I worried that she wasn’t moving as much as usual. I worried all day and all night and all the next morning about that. I just wasn’t going to be happy until she was delivered, safe and sound.
I had requested a marvelous meal that night, since it was to be my last meal for the foreseeable future. What I got, however, was a hot dog and potato chips Not quite. It tasted good, don’t get me wrong. But was a little less than “special”. That night, even now, is kind of a blur to me. I think I was caught up in my own head. I’m sure we watched TV, but I couldn’t tell you what. I have no idea what time we finally decided to go bed. I DO remember, however, trying to get one last load of laundry in. Kile was tossing the clothes he needed washed onto the bed in a pile and I took them to the wash. At the bottom of the pile were a pair of work pants (what I call them, they’re just khaki slacks) with the belt still in them. I asked him if he wanted those washed too. I didn’t really hear his response and busied myself with pulling things out of the pockets. I took out his keys and his wallet and didn’t feel anything else so they got tossed in with the lot. It was about five or ten minutes later when Kile asked me if I had taken the cell phone out of his pocket.
CRAP.
He ran to retrieve it. It was soaked. I tried to dry it and then asked if he had it turned off. Nope, so I popped off the battery cover and took the battery out (since using the usual power down button was doing nada). I felt awful. The rest of the time before bed was spent fretting over the phone. I suggested we leave it overnight to dry. What timing. The ONE time you do not want to be caught without a cell phone and I have to go toss it into the wash.
We actually slept that night, or at least, mostly slept. We were up early though. Excited. Kile checked his phone and it was still fuxed. We finished up backing the bag for the hospital and I tried to ignore when my husband ate his bagel for breakfast (didn’t matter if I could see it, I could SMELL it). I made a quick blog post, we got the kids up and around. Harry left for school after many hugs and farewells. By 9:30, we were in the car, headed towards the hospital. We both agreed that we would feel a lot better once they got us into a room and hooked up to a fetal monitor. Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long. And the nurses who were assigned to us, Laura and Wendy, were absolutely fabulous. I made it known pretty much as soon as I got there that I wanted a private room. Laura felt my pain, as her last child was born via c-section and she understood the value of a private room. She also, bless her heart, understood the value of getting a catheter put in AFTER the spinal. It was at that point that I professed my undying love for her. All of us joked around as they were in and out, filling out paperwork and doing other various clinical-type stuff (getting IVs is FUN!). We discovered the appalling lack of decent television channels and were subjected then to watching Discovery and some creepy-ass show about a decomposing cow (yay for time-lapse photography!) that was disturbingly interesting. The nurses were horrified every time they came in and saw what we were watching. But, to be frank, the Newborn Channel was just as disturbing with it’s bald discussion about vaginas and lochia. So decomposing cow it was!
We were actually ready to go for the c-section around 11am or so, but had to wait for the doctors to show up. No biggie. We just watched more disturbing educational programing (did you know that flamingos get their pink color from the food they eat?)(and that they stand in boiling hot acid all day?). And lo, the doctor did arrive on time! And at 12:05, I was ushered through the big double doors and into the surgical suite, a room I know and love by now. Kile hung back, waiting for the signal to come in and join us. Right away, they had me sit on the table and get prepped for my spinal. As I sat there in that most uncomfortable of positions (when you’re all big and preggo, at least), I started to feel a familiar, rhythmic bumping down in my belly. Hiccups courtesy of Evie. She got them ALL THE TIME so I thought it was fitting that it was the last thing I felt from her in utero. It was also the last fetal movement I would feel ever. Yep, that means I signed on for the tubal ligation.
My feet started to tingle and I was laid back down on the… what would you call that? It’s not a bed. Board? It’s softer. I was laid out in your classic spread eagle position, which is normally quite embarrassing when you’re essentially naked, but I sort of felt that since I couldn’t FEEL anything down there I didn’t care if it was on display either. Total disconnect. Way cool. The drape went up and about then I started to feel kinda yucky. The good news is, I was expecting that. Not at all uncommon for spinals and such. The bad news was I was hesitant to say anything until I was sure that I felt like I was gonna puke. Of course, by that point you’re usually already puking and I didn’t want to get to that point either. So finally I mentioned that perhaps, maybe, I wasn’t feeling all that fantastic. The anesthesiologist got the hint and did whatever it is that they do so well back there to make me start feeling normal again.
It was confirmed that I couldn’t feel any pinching or stabbing or anything and Kile was brought in. I beamed a smile and he beamed it back. This was it. It truly didn’t take very long at all. I can’t quite remember everything that happened in those last moments, but I do remember the moment she was born. Kile stood up, camera in hand, ready to capture the blessed moment. I heard some splashing, some sucking, and then a lusty, rasping cry. “It’s an Evie!” someone called out (as I had said her name would be Evie if indeed she was a girl but maybe “Stevie” if she was not). I could hardly believe she was ACTUALLY A GIRL. I remember asking repeatedly for confirmation. I think I still should ask for confirmation because it just doesn’t seem real to have a GIRL. Kile left me to go cut cords and watch over our little princess. I was left there with a big, stupid grin on my face. I listened to her pissed off cries and toyed with the fastenings of the drapes. At one point, the monitor near me sounded an alarm and I remember feeling rather detachedly interested to see that my heartrate had dipped into the low 40’s. It was strange, I didn’t really FEEL like my heart had done that and what was more, there was just no way I could control that. Way cool. So I kept watching the monitor and at one point, my heartrate soared past 130 and the alarm went off again. That I could feel, but still, not control. Wild. That monitor was fascinating. Kile left with the baby while they dealt with my tarnated tubes. It didn’t really take that long and I alternated between watching the monitors and listening to the conversation between the doctors. Before I knew it, it sounded like someone was finishing up some paperwork but it turns out that stapling noise was ME. Talk about weird.
I was wheeled into the recovery room (ah, another familiar place) and Linda chatted me up while doing her usual assessments and whatnot. I wasn’t in there long at all, it seemed. I was still reeling, though. A girl. A baby GIRL. I couldn’t wait to be reunited with her, hold her, know her and love her. And the rest, as they say, is history.
