I have a few minutes while OP’s Aunt and Uncle are around helping to share her birth story. It’s not terribly riveting. I mean, there’s no water breaking or hours of labor, neither is there no harrowing car delivery or emergency problems, just a trip to the hospital and surgery, but whatever. It’s my journal so there.
We left the house at 8am and drove for the last time as a family of two to the hospital. Once we were checked in and in my room for the next four days (ugh), they came to gave me the IV. I should point out that I hate needles. I can’t stand them. Don’t show them to me on TV, don’t talk about them, don’t think of them, just don’t. As long as I can pretend that needles don’t exist, all is right with the world. Of course, that reality isn’t going to work when surgery is on the agenda.
So, the nurse took a Buick-sized IV needle and thrust it into my wrist/lower arm. Did it hurt? Of course it hurt! I give her credit though, she tried to make it easy. She failed. Miserably. To add insult to injury, I stood up a few minutes later to take off my socks and as I looked down I saw a lake, nay an ocean, of blood on the floor. The tubing had come apart and I was bleeding through the IV. IVs suck. Fortunately, she just hooked it all back up and then I got to watch as I re-ingested my own blood through the tubing. That was kind of cool.
After an hour or so, I was given some nasty liquid to prevent vomiting, taken back to the OR, given my epidural (*shudder*), and began shivering as I waited for everything to begin. I was pretty calm. A few days before I just stopped worrying about the surgery and being awake while I was being cut open. In fact, I was sort of wanting to see the surgery in progress. I did think better of that because I’m not sure what sort of counseling would be needed after watching someone cut into you and muck about in your insides. It would have been cool, though. The Husband was wheeled in in his hospital gown and booties (very chic) and everything began.
I felt tugging and pressure. Then I felt sick and threw up the anti-nausea liquid. It tasted much worse on the way out, but once I was given more meds through the cursed IV, all was good. All things considered, the surgery wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was kind of cool. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be extremely happy to never ever have to do that again, but for what it was I kind of liked that part. And no, I didn’t look.
One of the things I was looking forward to experience with this birth was to cradle my little girl right after she was born. She would stare up at me and I would look lovingly down at her. She would think, “Oh crap, this sucks. Why’d I have to be stuck with her?” and I’d think, “Oh crap, what have we just gotten ourselves into? Can I take her back?” It would be magical. Unfortunately, I had to wait a while with the C-section. Once she came out, the nurses whisked her over to a cleaning area, then presented her over the curtain, took her back to do her apgar scores (9/9 if you are wondering) and other mysterious things, and then gave OP to the Husband to hold. I lay there the whole time staring at her in my husband’s arms, craining my neck to see, and just wanting to hold her. Unfortunately, they took her away to the recovery room and wheeled out the Husband before I got the chance. Not that I could in that position. I began to cry (stupid hormones). I just wanted to hold my little girl.
Not the beautiful moment I wanted, but after a few more moments I was sent to recovery where I got my hands on her. It wasn’t long enough but I like to think I’m making up for it every day. Although, I don’t feel like I quite get to hold her enough even now. The important thing is OP was healthy and is reasonably happy so long as you don’t change her diaper, and that’s all I can ask for.
We stayed at the hospital for 4 days. She lost 10% of her weight and we had to supplement her feedings with a small amount of formula. There is a debate on what she weighed at check out. I thought it was 7 pounds. The husband thinks it was 7 pounds 4 ounces. I think I’m right. She does weigh 7 pounds 4 ounces as of yesterday’s first well visit and we are back to a normal feeding schedule. Things here are going well. We have a lot of help and are starting to get the knack of things. Until she throws us another curve ball which I’m sure will be any day now.
If you are still reading this (wow, are you crazy to do that), here are some photos of her getting ready to come home and here is her first attempt at Tummy Time. Unfortunately, there are no photos of me. That’s because I’m always the one behind the camera. The Husband doesn’t really take pictures so she’s not going to believe that I ever existed, but I guess that’s just the way it is.