You can read this post about how we came to the decision to schedule Carter's birthday. We lovingly referred to it as The Plan and let me just say, it went off without a hitch!
Hubs and I arrived at the hospital at 8:30am as instructed. We checked in with Labor and Delivery and as is the case with most hospitals, the nurses on the Labor and Delivery floor had no idea why I was there. Okay, let me rephrase. They knew I was pregnant. They also knew I was coming in for a possible induction. However, they had no idea of "the plan" to try a few methods to coax Baby C to drop, before proceeding with induction. Thanks, Doc Silver Fox for filling them in, as you had graciously promised me the day before.
A few phone calls later and the placement of a Foley catheter, everyone was clued in. I would like to take a minute to apologize to all of my former patients for whom I have inserted Foley catheters on. When I tell you, "just take a deep breath, it's only uncomfortable for a minute," I am a big, giant, phoney liar. And I couldn't be more sorry for the lies. Holy cow. That is NOT nice. Most women are blessed to have their epidural in place before their Foley, but since it was hoped that with the insertion of said Foley, that C would drop- there was no need for an epi at that time. I. am. so. sorry.
Shortly after that bag of fun, the OB doctor on-call walks in with the ultrasound machine. One quick, painless ultrasound later, it's evident that Carter is perfectly content where is he, wedged transverse inside my pelvis. At this point, the OB doctor also eludes to the fact that Carter may or may not be a big(ger) baby which may or may not be responsible for why he hasn't already engaged himself in my pelvis. However, there is no mention of possible pound-age. We're still lead to believe he's going to be the "average sized, 7-8.5lb baby" that was predicted throughout my entire pregnancy.
Nice to think that I have an unsually small pelvis, right? Or... an unusually large baby?
Here's where the OB doc breaks it down. She starts by saying, "I think we already know the answer as to whether or not Baby C will drop. And it's a good thing the 2pm twins were already delivered. This leaves the morning OR slot wide open. I'll call the anesthesiologist."
Say what? You're going to call him right now? I start getting the vomit feeling. Hubs starts getting really excited. Talk about a role reversal. Things are starting to happen just as I had hoped. Why am I suddenly more nervous than a pre-pubescent boy putting his arm around his first girlfriend in the movie theatre?
Within minutes, the anesthesiologist walks in the room. He
After consenting to my C-section (sadly, without the much desired tummy tuck) I figure now is a good time to start making some phone calls.
Within minutes, my wheelchair chariot arrives to whisk me off to the OR. I make another phone call and the nurse decides now's a good a time as any for a photo op.
With a kiss and an, "ohmygod we're going to be parents in like, thirty minutes," I'm wheeled off to the OR.
The nice thing about the speed with which this all took place, was that it truly left me little time to overanalyze. Therefore, I wasn't really ever "nervous" about having my epidural/spinal combo placed. Well, except for that one time that my anesthesiologist looked homeless. I hop up on the table, trying to ignore the trays full of sharp blades that surround me.
Before placing the spinal, the anesthesiologist asks if I would like "a little something for the nerves." Let's see. I'm half nekked, 39 weeks pregnant, sitting in a sterile room surrounded by sharp objects that will soon be used to slice me open. Of course I would like a little somethin' somethin'. Enter: a dose of some unnamed magical cocktail that immediately had me wanting to be best friends with every single person that entered OR number 1.
I kid you not. I turned into Chatty Kathy. If I were an observer? I'd have wanted to smack me in the face and knock me out. I talked about books, about vacations, about raising boys. I made small talk about David Yurman and once again, tried to convince the handsome helper-surgeon to give me a tummy tuck. Looking back? I was a nutcase and all I can do now is laugh.
With legs that felt as heavy as cement bricks, the epidural/spinal combo worked like a charm. Only once did I feel a twinge of nausea and immediately, the anesthesiologist cracked open a smelling stick, a trick he learned while in the Army. He then explained the science behind it's success and the promotion of a vaso-vagal response and as much as I'm into all that medical mumbo jumbo, I was just glad I didn't spew all over myself.
There was some tugging and lot's of pulling. Everybody always says that, but it's another thing to experience it. It's like being rocked on a boat. Definitely one of the stranger feelings I've experienced. At one point, the tall handsome helper-surgeon was elbow deep somewhere up near my rib cage it seemed. With one knee on the table, he was trying to push Carter down near the incision site. If it wasn't for the unnamed magical cocktail and the wonderous smelling stick, I definitely would've vomited at this point.
I entered the OR at 10:41am. At 11:18am, Carter made his grand entrance into the world, screaming for all to hear. It was Heaven to my ears. I had never been happier to hear that little man exercise those lungs (a sentiment I now lovingly refute!) Upon pulling him out, I was later told that my OB exclaimed, "Holy cow. He is one big baby!"
I was luckly to steal a quick glance at him over the curtain that separated my from my insides before they whisked him away to clean him off and weigh him. A loud "9, 10" was announced and I thought to myself, "that's impossible. His time of birth couldn't be 9:10, I was wheeled into the OR at 10:41!"
Little did I know that was his weight. Almost three weeks old and I'm still in shock that I housed an almost 10 pound baby.
He was pure perfection, albeit a little slimy and slightly blue-hued. He required a little suctioning, as he swallowed some fluid on his way out, but once he was clean and less gurgly-sounding, he made his way over to his Daddy's arms. I'm sure you're wondering, "did you cry?" And yes, I did. Like a baby.
As soon as I heard that cry, it was almost instinctual. Tears. And lot's of them.
As stated in my "I swear I'm not crazy and I'm super flexible" birth plan, it was requested that my arms remain free during surgery and that if indicated, Baby would remain with us for as long as possible, delaying both the antibiotic eye ointment and vitamin K shot until his newborn exam."
Needless to say, my wishes were granted and Baby C remained with us while I was being stitched up and we couldn't help but stare at him in sheer amazement.
He also made his way with us to recovery where we ooh'd and ahh'd over him and he latched like a champion. We broke the rules a bit and were able to keep C with us for nearly two hours. Finally, the nursery came looking for him and whisked him away for his newborn examination.
Carter's debut had gone exactly how I had hoped. Actually, it had gone even better than that.
Delivering C was a whirlwind experience and after four days in the hospital, rooming in with our sweet, precious boy, coasting on adrenaline and fumes, we came home to be a family of four.
Hubs and I have never felt so overwhelmingly blessed in our entire lives. It's a whole new level of happiness that I never knew was possible. Hubs is already starting in on numbers 2 and 3..
Easy there, darling husband. Let's at least teach this one to say "please" and "thank you," first!