It all started at our Bradley Method natural childbirth class. During a break I was contemplating the fact that 20% of babies are born by c-section. (The statistic is higher in Miami.) There were 8 couples in our class. Odds were at least one of us would be taking the class for nothing. Not me, I thought smuggly.
Wednesday - 38 weeks pregnant. My midwife checks my cervix and brings the suprise news - the baby is breech. A lightning quick ultrasound confirms it. I am so disappointed that the babies in the waiting room make me feel sad.
My midwife makes some calls, but because I have a bicornuate uterus, no doctor will attempt an external version. This condition also makes it extremely unlikely that the baby will turn. I go home and prop my hips up on a pillow and point a flash light between my legs anyway. Meanwhile, the section is scheduled for Friday at 10am. I look forward to it with all the excitement of oral surgury. I feel like I've forgotten I'm having a baby. Worry that I will somehow be deficient as a mother.
Friday comes. I make breakfast for my husband, but fast myself. We warn the dog that his life is about to change and head for the car. At the hospital we fill out paper work. I get a wrist full of bracelets and they call me back to be prepped for surgury.
A nurse asks me to undress and put on a hospital gown. Then she shaves the area where the incision will be and inserts an iv and a catheter. I listen to the baby's heartbeat thump on the monitor. I had planned to give birth with only a heparin lock, but now I have more than 5 tubes and wires coming from my body.
While I wait, a woman on a gurney is wheeled in. She appears to be sleeping and is covered by a puffy blanket that is filled with air. I can't decide what is wrong with her. She looks very sick. It takes me some time to realize she had just had a baby by cesarean and is in recovery.
Slowly the team of doctors arrive. One of the first is the anesthesiologist. He seems nice, but I'm starting to get anxious. With all the wires I feel trapped. I've got to get off this bed. I want to go home, where's the car? I tell my husband. Suddenly the anesthesiologist pats my shoulder, "I gave you something, you'll feel better soon" and a bizarre calm washes over me. Everything is A-O-K, let's have a baby, what the heck, let's have two!
The surgeon is late, doesn't matter much, but I begin to think, do I want an old doctor or a young doctor? A young doctor would be fresh from med school and up on the latest techniques, but an older one would be more experienced. I decide I want the surgeon to be old just before a boy walks in. He looks like the bass player from a garage band in scrubs. He's the surgeon.
Suddenly everything is on go. I'm in the OR - it's so white! My midwife sits me up and tells me to lean over like a shrimp. Then I'm on my back with my arms stretched out. Everyone is wearing surgical masks. My husband comes in and sits by my head. "They already have you open!" he says. "You look like I duck," I say.
I feel nothing, no tugging nothing. They won't tell me the baby's sex until the whole body is out - even though the baby is breech and the head is the last part out. "It's a boy!" someone shouts. A boy! I can't believe it. They quickly bring the baby over near my head. He is screaming and covered in a red web. Definately a boy! My first thought is, "He's so big! How did he fit inside me!"
After cleaning him up, they bring the baby to my face. I touch him with my free hand and kiss his face - so warm! He cries and cries. Then they wisk him away. My husband follows him to the nursury. When they're gone I look up the ceiling and realize how much my shoulders ache. Someone folds my arms over my chest and suddenly I'm back in the prep area, only now I'm the sick looking woman under a puffy blanket. I am aware that in another corner of the room, another woman is bring prepped for her cesarean.
I sleep for a while, but I'm anxious to see the baby again. But the nurses say I have to stay in recovery until I can move my feet and legs. My husband comes in with digital pictures of the baby. He looks so strange - such a round head and a big nose. Why was he so big?
Finally with the force I would normally kick with I move my legs. I am taken to my room and hear wheels squeeking in the hallway. They roll in a plastic box with my baby in it. They hand him to me and I stare in disbelief. He is not enormous, he is tiny. His nose is so small. So small and I can't even pick him up because of the incision. I have to have someone else hand him to me.
I appreciate the electric bed. I can't sit up without it. Following my midwifes instructions I decide to try to walk 7 hours after the surgury. I had been so thirsty and begged for water. The nurses helped me stand up with all my wires. I feel incredibly dizzy and sick. I take two steps and sit down. Then I throw up the water.
I itch all over - a common reaction to the medicines they have given me. One nurse insists on giving me hospital strength benadryl. It makes me loopy, but I still itch. I feel frustrated to be so loopy, the baby is very sleepy and I am trying to make sure he wakes up to nurse.
Saturday morning, things are getting better. I can walk a few steps without feeling nauserous. It will be a couple of weeks before I can walk without wincing, but I can get out of bed.
Days and nights blur into nursing sessions and diaper changes. I am overcome with awe to watch my son change and grow so quickly. Before I know it he is smiling and cooing and my cesarean is just a scar to remind me how tiny he was.
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