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I had/am having a harder recovery than expected, so I am sorry I took so long to write out her birth story. Luckily for me, she is an excellent baby and sleeps like a rock star, so I have time to type it out now.
I am going to put a disclaimer up here at the top for any lurking mommies who may be reading up on a planned C-section that my results are not typical and you should not expect things to be as difficult for you as they turned out to be for me.
I was having contractions for the days leading up to my scheduled c section. Nothing regular and no blood so I just tried to keep calm around the house and used it as an excuse to not do housework. However, I was quite the task Mistress in ordering my oldest son and my husband around like Cinderella.
"Do the dishes! Scrub the tile! And the laundry! And the toilets!"
My kids were supposed to stay at my mom's house who lives 7 doors down from me, but I decided last second that I am a big fat baby and required my mom to go to the hospital with me, even if she couldn't be in the room, it made me happy she was in the next room worrying her head off. I was pretty sure if I yelled loud enough, no one could keep her out. However, I managed to behave myself.
So I waddled my butt through registration, they even asked me for my fingerprints if you can believe that, and found myself in prep. I remember thinking
"Why the heck do they want me here at 530am if my surgery isn't for 2 hours later?"
Well, that's because they need to poke and prod and ask you 50 million questions you've already answered 8 different ways 5 times already to someone else anyways. Very important. Then you get to put on this lovely assless gown and gauze head (hair?) covering which they have whimsically covered in bright smiley face print just for you.
Thanks for that.
I have a horrible needle phobia, like terrible. However I had a really awesome nurse, who bless her heart, was on the last 30 minutes of her 12 hour shift and still managed to be nice to me and joke as she took her time and got my IV in one mostly-painless shot. I could have kissed her. She was pretty enough; I just don't swing that way. Although, after this birth, I might change my mind.
My doc stopped by, smiled, pet my head and asked me if I had questions. I didn’t really. I asked him if he’d been drinking recently to break the ice. Then a 12 year old walked into the room. Well, he might as well of been for the baby face he had. I am speaking of the anestiologist (I am sure this word probably needs 6-7 more letters), we will call him Mr. Pokey…since that is really what is job entailed. He looked like he was fresh out of medical school and lucky me!!! He was. <insert angry face here>
I expressed my needle phobia to him and he informed me he knew what he was doing, that the epidurals I received in the past were much more invasive and the spinal would be way easier and smaller needle and we got this. No problem.
I was so happy to hear this; I bobble headed away and felt SO MUCH BETTER.
Well, we walk to the OR, fluid bag in hand and get up on this ridiculously narrow table and sit down on it. The most amazing woman in the world, her name was Pam, stood in front of me with big blue kind eyes, perhaps skin that has seen too much of the tanning bed, bottled blonde hair and the kindest disposition of anyone I had ever had the privilege of meeting.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug, I wrapped my arms around her waist and she told me in her angelic voice to relax my shoulders and arch my back out like a cat to make it easy for Mr. Pokey. I did this. Then the ******* started digging his fingers into my vertebrae assuring me over and over “I’m just looking for the best spot!”
This went on for about 10 minutes. I’m not a wussy, but this crap hurt, he pressed into my spine with his pokey fingers quite hard then wiggled them! Then seemed upset when I would pull away from the sensation as anyone with a brain would. But Pam was there, talking to me, asking me nicely to relax and I wanted to please her, so I did.
Then came the worst 45 minutes of my life. Mr. Pokey proceeded to stab me in the spine with 9 spinal needles plus all the lidocain needles that each one needed. He couldn’t find the right spot, apparently. And god bless Pam, who held me, let me claw at her back, snot up her scrubs, cuss out the whole room and beg for them to just put me to sleep. I think I might have even grabbed her *** once and she didn’t even flinch but only continued to hold and console me.
I loved her when about 20 minutes in, she looked at the Doctor and ordered him to go tell my husband who was losing his mind in the waiting room what was going on and that I was okay (because he could hear me crying and yelling). The doctor obeyed. I thought they were in charge?
Mr. Pokey had the audacity to continually tell me “YOU ARE DOING GREAT!” Shut your dirty wh0re mouth, a-hole and do your frickin job the first time. So back to my needle phobia…I hear Mr. Pokey state with exhaustion “Let me try a bigger needle”.
I wanted to die. I had snot tears running down my face. My blood pressure was through the roof and some nurse I never saw the face of kept asking me to relax because of it. REALLY?! My adrenaline had been running hard for 40 minutes of spine stabbing and the jerk finally got it with the last shot of the bigger needle in the first place he stabbed 40 minutes ago.
I sobbed with relief as I felt my legs and back going numb, they helped me to lie on my back and bring the drape up. Then my husband comes in, and they have him dressed in a full body suit which I would of thought was hot because it looked like something out of the TV show “Breaking Bad” but I wasn’t in a sexy mood, go figure.
I felt calm as reached out and touched my face, told me he loved me and thanked me before she was even born for his daughter. They gave me oxygen and I could hear the nurses banter back and forth about dinner plans as my very educated doctor kept saying very smart educated things you would expect doctors to say. I didn’t feel any pain, just some tugging and pulling and pressure. My adrenaline finally dropped and I felt very very calm. My husband was there staring at me, which was a little weird but slightly romantic as well.
The wonderful Pam had taken my phone and was snapping pictures throughout the process of my daughter being born. Some of the pics are kind of…bloody but also very very beautiful and I’m so grateful to have them.
I heard her yell, the doctor seemed really really happy to have her out and carried her over for me to see her naked squalling butt, and she was ANGRY and I was THRILLED because she was healthy. My husband started to cry. I have only seen him cry twice in the 10 years we’ve been together and heard him cry once. He cried when Sebastian was born. He cried when his daughter was born. And he cried once to me over the phone about how deep his love is for me while he was active duty, but that was whiskey-induced and doesn’t count.
So he was bawling, I was bawling, and Lilah was bawling. The nurses were cheering and the doctor was stapling and ******* Mr. Pokey keeps touching me shoulder and saying “You’re doing great!”. I still hate him and I wish he would leave.
I was waffling about getting my tubes tied, since my husband was getting his balls snipped in July anyways and the doc asked me in the beginning what I wanted. I decided to have it done, because you know, I’m not doing this again. I’m 29 and I have 3 kids and I’m done. DONE DONE DONE
So he is doing that and they are closing me up and everything and I send hubby out to the nursery with Lilah and I get wheeled into recovery.
I thought I was going to be really upset about this, but I was mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. Not to mention I was paralyzed from the boobs down. Instead of spending the time in recovery complaining and whining about not having my baby, I actually spent that time, wouldn’t you know…recovering. I was there for 45 minutes and they flew by.
Pam stayed with me the whole time and had to press down on my uterus every 15 minutes to push the muck out and prevent hemorrhaging. I didn’t really mind this, because I was numb from the boobs down, remember? We talked about our kids, and how hot the doctor is. He apparently smells really nice and is single and sexy. I must have missed that while in my snotted state of disarray. She told me as soon as I could wiggle my toes, I could be wheeled to Mother and Child. So I worked on that for a while and as soon as I got the slightest movement, Pam stood by her word and took me to my baby.
I asked people not to arrive until after noon. Except for my mother and husband obviously. However my mother in-law was there with my two boys and my best friend was also there. That kind of pissed me off, but they cleared out really fast when I first went to take a sip of water and preceded to vomit it all back up, politely saying “maybe mama needs to rest a bit”. You think?
So they left and that was awesome. She is one of those awesome babies that like to do nothing but breastfeed and sleep. I wish she would wake up and ask to play with barbies or something, but I have to wait a couple years for that. I was a little wigged out by her lady bits, for they were red and swollen and I had only ever had boys and changing a girl diaper is a much different experience. But I worked it out, obviously.
I was confined to the hospital bed for the first day. Pee tube and IV line running with antibiotics and fluid. They weren’t complete jerks about pushing on my uterus, they didn’t mash into it anyway like last time. My bleeding is minimal. Mostly only there when I pee. It was the worst the first day and has since tapered off.
My milk came in fast and luckily Lilah feeds like it is an olympic event and she is going for gold. However, I was already rocking DD’s, and now I’m rocking like…Dolly Partons.
I had pain management issues which kept me in the hospital until Thursday (I arrived on Monday morning). But we finally got that under control enough for me to go home. I still can’t miss a dosage and I’m constipated due to the narcotics but I would take that over the pain.
Oddly, my feet have started to swell (they haven’t swelled all pregnancy really) and this is really strange. I don’t like it but it goes down if I put my feet up. I hope my body gets over this strange post-partum reaction before Monday since DH goes back to work then.
So little Miss Delilah Marie came into the world squalling and angry weighing 8lbs 3oz and 20 inches long. She lost exactly 1lb in the first 24 hours because she had so much fluid in her lungs that had to be sucked out (200 milliliters) and was such an eater, she managed to push out most of her meconium in the first day.
She is perfect, and despite the battle I fought to get her here, I couldn’t be happier.
Aww love all the pics! Specially those of the boys with her! She really is a cutie! And I should add that when Jereme sent me texts so I could update the ladies here he told me that he was the dad as if I was unsure as to who may be texting me about how you and Lilah were doing. Which I thought so funny and cute.
Also ya should of totally cussed out Mr pokey sounds like you were being nice!!!
Okay...I am a crazy stalker. Of birth stories, not you specifically. And this has to have been one of the funniest I have ever read. You really should write professionally. I know it was certainly not funny at the time, but what a spin you put on it! Your baby is beautiful (carry on....)
I am so sorry you had such a traumatic experience with the needles! How awful! But your little girl is beautiful! And I loved reading your story. You are an excellent writer (and I am super critical, this is not a compliment I give out idly).