Post-Partum Contemplation

When I'm not washing bottles, getting yellowing spit up out of baby clothes or fixing a snack for big brother, I love to pull out the laptop and catch up with my blogging friends (and sometimes their blogging friends). I've seen a lot of birth stories out there...it seems like there have been many a baby born as of late. And then I start thinking about my own birth story...well not literally my own, but Carter's. I kind of giggle, because wouldn't that be humorous to write a birth story of a c-section?

They wheeled me into the operating room at 1:45 PM and after reassuring me that I was completely numb from my chest down, the doctor began his work. Our little boy was born at 2:32 PM and I waited patiently to hear his first cry. I don't know, it kind of pales in comparison to things like being dilated to a 8 or pushing for 2 1/2 hours or feeling like I could go no further or having my new little one placed on my chest immediately after his birth.

Some women feel slighted by having a c-section. And I may have felt like this too but I am grateful that I was able to experience labor with my first baby and feel contractions and my water being broken and all that. Jameson too was born via cesarean but this was only after 14 hours of labor and my doctor informing me that there was no way in this world that he would be able to pass through my pelvic area. I am most grateful to live in a time that Jameson could be born safely...and that I was safe as well.

So no, I don't regret having both my sons born via c-section. There may even be a few advantages. I always smile when I hear the question, "Did you have your baby naturally or cesarean?" What could be more natural than just having a baby? Don't get me wrong. I still enjoy hearing birth stories, whether they involve a large abdominal incision or not. I don't get jealous or resent hearing mothers tell them. Mine would just seem so nontraditional and perhaps unblog-worthy.

So I guess if I was writing Carter's birth story, it might start out something like this:

"My darling husband and I arrived at the hospital a little after eleven in the morning. We were supposed to be there right at eleven, but he wouldn't stop playing his stooopid on-line game and everyone assumes it was the wife that made this couple late. Anyway, we were checked in and I changed into my lovely hospital gown, only after requesting a different one because the first one didn't quite go around the belly. Hello, people, it's the labor and delivery floor! I meet my reassuring nurse Polly that informs me that my doctor is running late due to his previous surgery lasting longer than planned. I am not surprised and encourage my husband to run and purchase that video camera that we must have to capture the post-birth since hospitals will not allow them in the O.R. You see, we already own a video camera and it has a cord somewhere but we haven't seen the cord since we visited China two years ago. Nate assures me that he can race to Best Buy and be back in 30 minutes. I know nothing is going to happen (aside from perhaps some clandestine shaving in areas that I will not disclose here) so I tell him to go and pick out the one that is not the most expensive. My mom is there and so he leaves.

I then have the pleasure of meeting my anesthesiologist. Someone in the room (I can't remember whom informs me that he'll become my best friend). I explain my fears of not being completely numb and how my epidural last time only worked on one side of my body. He assures me that the spinal block I'll receive will be the ticket. I'm content and let my mom, my niece Chelsea and Nate know that it's okay if they eat in front of me. I packed Nate some snacks - licorice, Hot Tamales, M&Ms but no salty snacks nor anything substantial. Nate says that he will not leave so my mom offers to go to the cafeteria and pick up some sandwiches. I remind her if they are serving Monte Cristo sandwiches - DO NOT GET ONE! You see, the last time I was in labor, visitors one by one, kept coming into my room with their aromatic, melty Monte Cristos. The fact of the matter is, you're hungry and when you have a c-section, it's going to be like 2 days before you get to eat solid food again. This is something every potential mother should know. For 2 days I craved one of those sandwiches with every Popsicle, Jell-O and cup of broth I consumed only to discover the cafeteria offered these exclusively on Tuesday's menu.

My nurse searches my arm for the perfect vein to place my IV in. She reluctantly decides on the one in my hand and begins her work. Argh! This is not one of those easy-in IVs. She remarks that her attempt to start an IV and collect the blood sample did not go over as planned. I feel warm blood oozing between my fingers. That, combined with the pain on the back of my hand, I scrunch up my face and request a cold wash cloth for my forehead. Nate retrieves one and rubs my other arm offering comfort. A couple more phone calls from my OB to let staff know that he would in fact be there shortly and that I should get my hair cap on. I do and all of a sudden my nurse and anesthesiologist tell me to walk down to the OR. What? Already? I didn't even have time to crave everyones lunch or give my husband a hard time about his Hazmat suit he's wearing for the impending surgery. I had barely began listening to the heart monitor attached to my belly. It allowed us to hear my baby's heart beat with the occasional hiccup, very loudly.

I enter the OR and instantly feel the chill of the cold room that hinders bacterial growth. I look at the extremely narrow operating table and wonder if it was that small when I had Jameson. I worry that my hiney will not fit on it and then forget about my worries because it's time for that unearthly enormous needle to go in my lower back. The spinal block. I try to muster courage as I sit there as still as possible. I prepare myself for the worst and surprisingly it's not that bad. In fact, it's already over. I shower my anesthesiologist with praise and even plan to give him a high-five when possible.

I lay down on the weight lifting bench a.k.a operating table and anxiety fills me. Am I really ready for this? Nate must be able to read my mind because he asks me the same thing. What? He's nervous too? He's supposed to be the cool, collected one. He starts asking his myriad of questions to the nurses, anesthesiologist and the pediatric nurses that walk in the room. We look over and see my OB scrubbing up through the glass in the adjoining room. He has his colleague there to assist. I think that both doctors look the same. My doctor walks in and greets me. He answers a few last minute questions and gives me that reassuring attitude that he's done this a million times; it will be easy and over in a matter of minutes. My toes start to go numb and I can feel the effects of the medications working their way up through my body. An odd feeling for sure. In fact, I'm a little lightheaded. Can I get a pillow please?"

So that's how it would begin. The facts mixed with some sarcasm here and there. Just like me. I don't know maybe I'll write it all down somewhere...