12 years ago today, at about 4:30 in the afternoon, I was on my way to my OB/GYN's office. We already knew I was in labor, and were keeping an already scheduled appt. The pains were incredible, I was having "back labor". That means I had mild period like cramping up front, yet crippling, groan inducing spasms in my lower back.
When I got to the Dr's office, there was standing room only, so they put me to wait in the waiting room of my Dr's psychiatrist wife, that was down the hall...I think they forgot about me. I would ask every now and then for the psychiatrists receptionist to call the other office but still nobody came to get me. Finally about 6 'clock, I told the psych receptionist that my pains had changed and felt more "up-front" and were clocking steady at 4 minutes apart. That made her sit up and take notice, this time she didn't call the other office, she went over there. She came back with a nurse in tow and they brought me right into an exam room. I was put in the stirrups up for my first pelvic in many months and was told...Direct quote from the Dr..."do not got to the car for your stuff, sit in this wheelchair and go DIRECTLY too the OB department...they are waiting for you, I'll be right over." I was 4 centimeters dilated, contractions were 4 min apart or less and fully effaced.
I got to OB right as the new shift was coming on, I really felt blessed at that point, as my room was right by the nurses station, and with my first contraction on the fetal monitor,my baby's heart rate dropped to between 20 and 30. It should be over 100. Well, to say the least, all hell broke loose and I was lucky enough to have double the nurses taking care of me and my boy. Any sense of modesty I may have possessed was violently ripped from me, with not even a glance in my direction for approval. Not that I cared in the least bit at that point... just make my baby OK, PLEASE dear lord, take care of my baby.
A lovely British visiting nurse, who later turned out to be a lactation specialist, hopped in the bed with me and made herself comfortable between my legs, she had the hook to break my water and then settled in keeping the pressure of the cord with each contraction. I had someone on my left arm taking blood, someone on my right starting an iv. yet another nurse had called the Dr and was now shoving emergency c-section paperwork in my face. yet another was helping my mom into scrubs for the delivery.
The Dr arrived and so did the pediatrician I had picked out. This scared me a lot, What was the baby Dr doing there? My OB/GYN told me that his job was to concentrate on taking care of me and the pedi Dr was there to take care of my baby. That said, we went directly to the O.R. and rolled me on my side for the spinal, when they rolled me, the fetal monitor dropped to ZERO for a second or two, and although the Dr said the monitor had just probably pulled loose, why did he immediately start poking me repeatedly with a sharp instrument,
"Can you feel this?"
"Can you feel this?"
"Can you feel this?"
"Yes"(whispered, nodding vigorously)
to the man hovering out of sight above my head, he said
"Put her out"
The mask hovered over my face for a second and the spectre above my head told me to count backward from 100 out loud. I felt a burning sensation from the iv in my arm and dutifully started counting, I got to 96 and I heard my spectre say "she's out" I screamed "NOOO, I'M NOT" and then I remember nothing until the recovery room several hours later.
My son was born at 8:02 on a chilly April night. 4 pounds 4 ounces, and 18 inches long. He had a cut on top of his head because the Dr was in such a hurry to get him out. The Dr had to spin him on the way out of my belly, the cord was wrapped around his neck, his chest and twice around one leg. Other than being really skinny, there was no difference between my boy and any other healthy baby on the day of its birth. I met him the next morning after I spent the night sleeping off the anesthesia haze and my boy spent the night under the "french fry" warming lights. I always remember the events of then, and note the time of 10:28 am on April 4th as the first time I laid eyes and arms on my precious baby boy.
He is still my precious, just not so much baby as young man now. my 12 years old boy is only an inch or two shorter than me, and I've only got him by 15 pounds. He let me bring cupcakes to the 7th grade lunchroom today...he promised to always be my special guy...I hope I can give him wings when its time...