I don't really know what other event in life could begin to equate with the birth of a child to begin with, but typically childbirth is in a league of its own since it has the element of surprise. You picture the "Honey! It's time!!" moment at 3am or whatever and then adrenaline takes over from there. Even if you have to have a c-section, it seems like most of my friends that have been there have had theirs at some ungodly early hour like 7:30am which requires a 5:30am check in at the hospital, a ridiculously early wake up time/sleepless night, etc. So, even though it's a scheduled event, the bizarre schedule gets the adrenaline going (I would imagine) in the same way that a little kid anticipates Christmas morning or something like that.
The closest event in my life that I can equate to the level of importance and anticipation would have to be our wedding. And it has the late-in-the-day thing in common too. But, on our wedding day, my schedule was packed all day: morning breakfast with the bridesmaids, followed by hair/makeup/nail appointments, all kinds of activities like that to prepare for the evening ceremony.
Not so much with the 5:00pm c-section. First off, you have to fast for 8 hours before the procedure, so there goes your freedom to schedule a fun Last Lunch Date or something like that. And let's not forget, you're as pregnant as it gets at this point so lots of activities are just uncomfortable... not to mention, it's weird to be out, because there's an extremely high likelihood that someone will ask when you're due and people give you a real weird look when you tell them you're having the baby later today. So, like I said - Weirdest, Most Surreal Day Ever with very little to do except sit around thinking "I'm going to be a mother today. I'm giving birth to a little tiny person in a few hours" etc.
So, here's how my day went, more or less:
First off, the phone rang and woke us up at about 5:30am. Begin slight panic. My doctor had been saying she would try to reschedule for an earlier time if possible, and my initial thought when the phone rang was that maybe that had happened and I'd somehow missed her call notifying me, and now we're running late and oh my gosh I'm giving birth in an hour... you know, calm, happy thoughts. ha
Well, it was the hospital calling to see if I had eaten yet because there was a noon slot available. I said that sounded fine to me, and they replied that they would call my doctor to confirm and then call me back.
I had about four minutes to reorganize my entire day in my head before they called back - to say that my doctor had a conflict so we're back to Plan A, 5:00 surgery.
So, yeah, I didn't go back to sleep after a wake up call like that.
Most of the morning was more or less "quiet reflection time" including a little breakfast alone at La Madeleine, during which I did all the pages in the baby book that are This Day In History type info, and the page called "a letter from mommy". On my way home I stopped my the grocery store to check the price of everything for the baby book... a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, etc.
Then... I went home. And killed time. A little laundry. Double checked and re-packed the hospital suitcase. Watched TV. That sort of thing.
Shortly after 2:00, it was time to go to the hospital. I was definitely getting anxious, nervous, and a little scared at this point. This is where my husband's sense of humor makes its appearance. We got in the car and the first thing I hear is this.
Then... I went home. And killed time. A little laundry. Double checked and re-packed the hospital suitcase. Watched TV. That sort of thing.
Shortly after 2:00, it was time to go to the hospital. I was definitely getting anxious, nervous, and a little scared at this point. This is where my husband's sense of humor makes its appearance. We got in the car and the first thing I hear is this.
Yeah, that's the opening music from Top Gun.
Anyway, that was a great move on Andrew's part actually, because it had me laughing on the way to the hospital, which I definitely needed at that moment, as the anxiety was starting to go full swing.
Not much to report for the next hour or so. We got to the hospital, found the right desk to check in, signed some stuff, etc. etc. Eventually we landed in what would become the recovery room, where we waited for a few minutes before Actual Medical Activity began, and kids, that's when this girl lost her mind.
I'm one of those lucky people who has "bad veins". So, getting blood drawn, an IV started, anything of that nature is always something of a production. Earlier in my pregnancy, I had blood drawn and my students commented the next day that it looked like I'd been beaten up (except for the 8th grade boy who Told It Like It Was and said I should stop shooting up).
So, the next 90 minutes essentially consisted of nurses attempting simple medical tasks like blood draws and IVs, failing miserably multiple times, me stressing out because this does not exactly inspire confidence, nurses apologizing profusely and trying different methods, trying again, failing again, summoning bigger badder nurses, them asking if I'm ok, me saying yes but meaning no, me eventually crying. Around this time, one of our pastors showed up to pray with us, which was great, except that again, I'm stressing, crying, and in tears, and this REALLY got the waterworks going. Lordy. Pastor leaves, nurses return. They're still trying to get all the basics going, and as they enter, each nurse is asking "are you ok?" or making some comment along the lines of "oh no! Did we upset you?"
How am I supposed to answer that?
Real answer: "YES YOU UPSET ME! CAN'T YOU PEOPLE SEE I'M FREAKING OUT OVER HERE?"
My answer: "I'm fine! [forced laughter, tears streaming down my face] ha ha ha."
Anyway... I honestly think that I've blocked out many of the details of what else went on in that room prior to the actual surgery. It was not fun for me, but it really wasn't the nurses' fault or anything like that... just my dumb veins.
I do remember one nurse, whose name I can't recall now, but she put two and two together and figured out that if I'm crying for the blood draw, we have the potential here for a really ugly epidural situation.
I should say here that I understand that the epidural is administered by an anesthesiologist, not a nurse. I understand that it is one of the more frequently performed procedures on the planet, and probably nowhere more so than a hospital in the west side of Plano, Texas. I understand that my spine (or whatever the target is) is infinitely easier to find than any one of my "bad veins". That's all real cool on paper. That did not matter to me in that moment. That moment was not a time for logic. That moment was a time for crying and freaking out.
So, Awesome Nurse saw all this going down and while I don't remember exactly what she said to me or what she did, I do remember being soothed by her. She accompanied the traveling side show that was me in the terminal stages of pregnancy to the operating room. Here, she talked me through the whole epidural situation, complete with me squeezing the crap out of her hands during the actual administration.
Then came Happy Time in Terri Land.
That is to say, I felt nothing below my ribs, give or take.
The following paragraph contains a short story that may be Too Much Information for some people. You have been warned.
My same Awesome Nurse, God bless her, had to be the one to do my catheter. As she was doing this, she had to ask several times to confirm that I was sufficiently numb. She asked if I could feel anything, and I said that well, I can tell you're up to something down there, but no, I can't really feel it. She said, that's just as well, I don't think we'd be friends if you knew what I was up to. Nice work, Awesome Nurse.
Anyway... once they had me all numb, the other um, awesome [ping! sarcasm detector! ping!] part of the c-section is the fact that I had to lay there exposed to the elements for what kinda felt like forever while the doctors/nurses/assorted personnel got ready to do their thing. Not my favorite part because (1) the obvious and (2) it was freakin cold. I was shivering like none other. Eventually they threw me a bone and covered my arms and shoulders. Gee whiz, thanks guys. I was still shivering for a while... cold? Maybe. Nervous/anxious? More likely. But, I was able to get them to put this hot air blower thing under the covers with me, warming my arms and such.
Once the surgery was underway, it was just as I had heard it described by other c-section mamas that I know. I could sort of feel the pressure of movement/activity in, on, and around my abdomen, but by no means could I identify what exactly I was feeling. The types of sensations I felt as the beginning, when I assume I was receiving the incision, were no different than the sensations I felt as James was being removed from my body. When I heard his first cry, it was pretty unbelievable. Not even necessarily in the stereotypical way you hear about - that you fall in love at first sight, etc. But for me it was more about the fact that I hadn't really felt him being born, so I literally couldn't believe that I was apparently hearing his first cries. In a similar way, it was a little odd to have just had a child and to feel like a whole mess of other people got to see him, touch him, etc. first. In fact, the first time I saw my son was on the screen on our camera... Andrew took a picture and brought it over to me. So, in hindsight, that was a little odd, and if I had it to do over again, I might even tell Andrew in advance NOT to show me those early pictures until I get to see the live show. But, I'm not scarred for life over it or anything.
So, there you go. The beginning of a story that will continue to be written for the rest of my life. =)
The epilogue for now, I guess, is that my recovery is going very well. I saw the doctor today (two weeks postpartum) and she wants to see me in one more week, just to check on a little redness around my incision, but nothing crazy. Life in general is beautiful and while no, I haven't slept through the night in two weeks, I'm feeling fine. In a lot of ways, I'm a LOT more productive than usual. Staying on top of laundry, housecleaning (at least by my standards), and that sort of thing. Of course, we've had lots of help: my parents have been by nearly every day, Andrew's parents have also been around quite a bit, we've received food from our Sunday School class which has DEFINITELY made life a lot easier. We've had lots of visitors, but not so many as to tire us out or anything like that. It doesn't hurt that Little Man sleeps a good 18 hours a day. Honestly, I couldn't ask for a much better experience. Yay, motherhood!
Not much to report for the next hour or so. We got to the hospital, found the right desk to check in, signed some stuff, etc. etc. Eventually we landed in what would become the recovery room, where we waited for a few minutes before Actual Medical Activity began, and kids, that's when this girl lost her mind.
I'm one of those lucky people who has "bad veins". So, getting blood drawn, an IV started, anything of that nature is always something of a production. Earlier in my pregnancy, I had blood drawn and my students commented the next day that it looked like I'd been beaten up (except for the 8th grade boy who Told It Like It Was and said I should stop shooting up).
So, the next 90 minutes essentially consisted of nurses attempting simple medical tasks like blood draws and IVs, failing miserably multiple times, me stressing out because this does not exactly inspire confidence, nurses apologizing profusely and trying different methods, trying again, failing again, summoning bigger badder nurses, them asking if I'm ok, me saying yes but meaning no, me eventually crying. Around this time, one of our pastors showed up to pray with us, which was great, except that again, I'm stressing, crying, and in tears, and this REALLY got the waterworks going. Lordy. Pastor leaves, nurses return. They're still trying to get all the basics going, and as they enter, each nurse is asking "are you ok?" or making some comment along the lines of "oh no! Did we upset you?"
How am I supposed to answer that?
Real answer: "YES YOU UPSET ME! CAN'T YOU PEOPLE SEE I'M FREAKING OUT OVER HERE?"
My answer: "I'm fine! [forced laughter, tears streaming down my face] ha ha ha."
Anyway... I honestly think that I've blocked out many of the details of what else went on in that room prior to the actual surgery. It was not fun for me, but it really wasn't the nurses' fault or anything like that... just my dumb veins.
I do remember one nurse, whose name I can't recall now, but she put two and two together and figured out that if I'm crying for the blood draw, we have the potential here for a really ugly epidural situation.
I should say here that I understand that the epidural is administered by an anesthesiologist, not a nurse. I understand that it is one of the more frequently performed procedures on the planet, and probably nowhere more so than a hospital in the west side of Plano, Texas. I understand that my spine (or whatever the target is) is infinitely easier to find than any one of my "bad veins". That's all real cool on paper. That did not matter to me in that moment. That moment was not a time for logic. That moment was a time for crying and freaking out.
So, Awesome Nurse saw all this going down and while I don't remember exactly what she said to me or what she did, I do remember being soothed by her. She accompanied the traveling side show that was me in the terminal stages of pregnancy to the operating room. Here, she talked me through the whole epidural situation, complete with me squeezing the crap out of her hands during the actual administration.
Then came Happy Time in Terri Land.
That is to say, I felt nothing below my ribs, give or take.
The following paragraph contains a short story that may be Too Much Information for some people. You have been warned.
My same Awesome Nurse, God bless her, had to be the one to do my catheter. As she was doing this, she had to ask several times to confirm that I was sufficiently numb. She asked if I could feel anything, and I said that well, I can tell you're up to something down there, but no, I can't really feel it. She said, that's just as well, I don't think we'd be friends if you knew what I was up to. Nice work, Awesome Nurse.
Anyway... once they had me all numb, the other um, awesome [ping! sarcasm detector! ping!] part of the c-section is the fact that I had to lay there exposed to the elements for what kinda felt like forever while the doctors/nurses/assorted personnel got ready to do their thing. Not my favorite part because (1) the obvious and (2) it was freakin cold. I was shivering like none other. Eventually they threw me a bone and covered my arms and shoulders. Gee whiz, thanks guys. I was still shivering for a while... cold? Maybe. Nervous/anxious? More likely. But, I was able to get them to put this hot air blower thing under the covers with me, warming my arms and such.
Once the surgery was underway, it was just as I had heard it described by other c-section mamas that I know. I could sort of feel the pressure of movement/activity in, on, and around my abdomen, but by no means could I identify what exactly I was feeling. The types of sensations I felt as the beginning, when I assume I was receiving the incision, were no different than the sensations I felt as James was being removed from my body. When I heard his first cry, it was pretty unbelievable. Not even necessarily in the stereotypical way you hear about - that you fall in love at first sight, etc. But for me it was more about the fact that I hadn't really felt him being born, so I literally couldn't believe that I was apparently hearing his first cries. In a similar way, it was a little odd to have just had a child and to feel like a whole mess of other people got to see him, touch him, etc. first. In fact, the first time I saw my son was on the screen on our camera... Andrew took a picture and brought it over to me. So, in hindsight, that was a little odd, and if I had it to do over again, I might even tell Andrew in advance NOT to show me those early pictures until I get to see the live show. But, I'm not scarred for life over it or anything.
So, there you go. The beginning of a story that will continue to be written for the rest of my life. =)
The epilogue for now, I guess, is that my recovery is going very well. I saw the doctor today (two weeks postpartum) and she wants to see me in one more week, just to check on a little redness around my incision, but nothing crazy. Life in general is beautiful and while no, I haven't slept through the night in two weeks, I'm feeling fine. In a lot of ways, I'm a LOT more productive than usual. Staying on top of laundry, housecleaning (at least by my standards), and that sort of thing. Of course, we've had lots of help: my parents have been by nearly every day, Andrew's parents have also been around quite a bit, we've received food from our Sunday School class which has DEFINITELY made life a lot easier. We've had lots of visitors, but not so many as to tire us out or anything like that. It doesn't hurt that Little Man sleeps a good 18 hours a day. Honestly, I couldn't ask for a much better experience. Yay, motherhood!
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