We scheduled the C-Section about a month in advance, but were told only that it was "the first scheduled surgery of the morning". I didn't mind not having a specific time - my calendar was pretty clear for that day. But it drove Andrew CRAZY.
On the 30th we had a pre-op appointment with both the OB and Labor and Delivery. The first thing Andrew did was ask what time the surgery would be the next day. Surgery would start at 8:00, they told us, so we probably need to be there at 6:00. Finally, he had a time and he felt so much better. Then we went down to Labor and Delivery and they told us 5:00 AM. Really? THREE HOURS before the surgery? Yup - three hours early. 5 AM.
I spent the entire month of December miserably sick with some sort of bronchial illness. The worst of it was when it got to the point that the coughing was so severe that sleep became impossible. Andrew had gotten to that point about three days before Laurie was born. He hadn't had a good nights sleep in a while. Monday the 30th was busy with all sorts of things (including picking my mom up from the airport, yay!) and we didn't even get to bed until about midnight. That gave us a little less than five hours to sleep. For the first time in days, Andrew actually slept. I, on the other hand, woke up at 2:00. I just needed to go to the bathroom, but I couldn't get back to sleep. I was having contractions!
I assumed they were just Braxton Hicks contractions, but they seemed to be almost constant for about 90 minutes! I tried walking, laying down, sitting - whatever I could do to get them to stop (Braxton Hicks will theoretically stop if you change position) but nothing changed. Even though they seemed to be nearly constant, I never did feel like they were "regular" to a point that I could really set time by them, so that also made me think it wasn't the real deal. But around 3:00 I started wondering if I should just head in early and let the professionals monitor me since I clearly had no idea what I was doing.
Eventually, I just said a prayer and went back to sleep for another 75 minutes or so before the 4:45 alarm went off.
Andrew slept through the alarm. It was the first sound sleep he had gotten in so long that I hated to wake him. When I told him it was time to get up, he responded, but didn't get up. I decided to get myself ready. I puttered around the house for about ten minutes and went back to get him up again. He still didn't budge. I thought about heading to the hospital by myself. It is really close to our home and the surgery wasn't going to start for another three hours. I figured he would be pretty upset for me to just leave him without explanation, though, so I tried one more time to wake him up. And of course he wanted to take me to the hospital, but I convinced him that perhaps he could just drop me off and head back home to rest a little bit more before the big event.
As it turns out, pretty much the ONLY thing they needed to do during those three hours was get me hooked up to an IV and pump lots of fluids into my body. I quickly asked whether or not Andrew needed to do anything and since he didn't, we sent him home. Unfortunately, pretty much as soon as he got there, the boys were waking up so he spent the morning giving Ammon a haircut and feeding them breakfast. So much for that "extra" rest.
In the mean time, I was hanging out in the hospital bed when I suddenly started to feel strange. I mentioned that to the nurse who looked at me in alarm. She had me roll off of my back and onto my side and sure enough, I started feeling better immediately. Laurie had been pressing down on that huge artery.
As always, I hated getting the IV in. I always remember the IV as being the part that hurts the worst. With Ammon I had a general, with Peter I had an epidural, and with Laurie I was getting a spinal, so I wondered if the IV would hurt more than the spinal. It did.
Andrew came back to the hospital around 7:30. I was extremely uncomfortable in the hospital bed. Around 7:50 it was time to head down to the OR.
We got down there relatively quickly, but then we just waited outside of the actual operating room waiting for the "team" to arrive. Once the anesthesiologist arrived (his name was Walter) we realized that every time he pushed something through the IV it hurt. So he tinkered with the IV for a few minutes to try to alleviate that problem. It got a little better, especially if he pushed stuff through slowly. Finally they decided it was good enough. Andrew got to go into the waiting room with the pediatrician while they took me into the OR to administer the spinal.
I was moved from the large hospital bed to a narrow surgical bed. It seemed to be barely wide enough to hold me. They had me sit up and slump my shoulder forward to start the injection in my back. A male nurse held me in a bear hug to keep me from falling over on either side. He was really nice and noting that this was a repeat c-section he asked how many children I had. He mentioned that he had (I think) five (or more? I can't remember) kids at home. It made me feel better, somehow, to know that I was (literally) in the arms of a father with so many kids.
As I felt the numbing shot for the spinal I confirmed in my mind that the IV was definitely worse. The needle felt small and though it definitely pricked a bit, it seemed to be no big deal. They laid me down and tied up my arms and we were ready to start. Then they must have injected me with something (presumably the actual spinal?) because all of the sudden I felt weird. And terrible. I felt a numbing sensation coming up through my legs but I felt like it was coming way too fast and way too high. It seemed to be invading my entire body and I felt paralyzed and suffocated and panicky and sick. It also reminded me of earlier that morning when Laurie was on that vein and I needed to get off of my back. But I was strapped down and couldn't move off my back, even if I tried. I told them I was feeling weird and they asked me to describe it. I did my best to explain what I was feeling, but before I knew it, I was puking my guts up. All I could do was turn my head and throw up into my hair.
Eventually everything somehow stabilized enough that they felt like they were ready to start the operation and let Andrew come into the room. I was happy to see him!
I got sick a few more times during the surgery. The second time was just a round of dry heaving. Andrew said that I got "better" when they would get my blood pressure "back up" to somewhere around 70/35. I feel like I spent the bulk of the surgery incoherent and unaware of almost everything but the anesthesiologist. He was a nice older gentleman who was very kind and reassuring. He apologized over and over again that I threw up, he told me at one point that they had the baby's head out, and when I told him that I was starting to feel bad again he said, "I know - I have learned that you have some tell-tale signs when you are about to get sick. I'm working on it right now and you should feel better in just a minute," Eventually the baby was out and Andrew said that even though my blood pressure did another dive at the end, that the second she was out, my blood pressure went back to almost normal range.
The midwife had warned me that the hospital doesn't seem to allow for a lot of mother-child time before whisking the baby away to take care of her after birth. I had asked the doctor about that and he promised that I could have as much time with her as I wanted before they took her away and finished up my surgery. They did clean her up for a few minutes and did their apgar tests and weighed her. We were shocked when we learned that she was 9 lbs 14 oz. Our biggest baby to be sure! She got an 8 and a 9 on the Apgar. Then they brought her over to me.
What the doctor didn't mention when he promised me as much time as I wanted with her, was that they weren't going to untie my hands. So they laid her by my head and I got to stare at her for a few minutes as I felt groggy, incoherent, and frustrated that my hands were tied. I just wanted to hold her! But after a few moments Andrew checked with me and went ahead and followed her up to get her bath etc while they closed me up and sent me to recovery.
I thought I would be sitting in recovery bored, anxious and impatient, wanting to get to my baby. Instead I was barely conscious. Whatever drugs they had in me, had me almost completely knocked out. I was on oxygen and just woke up every once in a while to see a nurse standing next to me watching the monitors.
Eventually I got to a point where I could stay awake. I think that must be what they were waiting for because pretty much as soon as I was to that point, they took the oxygen mask away and took me up to be reunited with Andrew and Laurie.
It was up there that I learned that she was 23 inches long. 23 inches!!! I couldn't believe it. I loved holding her (finally!) and pretty soon after that we invited my mom to bring Ammon and Peter down to meet their new sister.
Parts of that sound pretty miserable. But at least you got an absolutely adorable baby out of it. :)
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