So I went into labor 9 days after my due date. This kind of thing was not new to me. I was 11 days late for Maile. Around 1 am I felt my first contractions and we headed to the hospital around 5 am. I was trying to wait longer because when we went in with Maile I was only dilated to a three and they almost sent us home.
Unfortunately for me, we had forgotten to fill out the pre-registration forms and the nurse wanted to go over those before calling in the anesthesiologist. The talk went a little something like this:
Nurse: And your date of birth….
Me: 12 26 78…are the drugs coming??
Nurse: Mmmhmm. We just need to finish this paperwork…do you have any allergies?
Me: No….are the drugs here yet???
Nurse: (smiling) they’re on their way hon. Now…
Me: (interrupting) BUT ARE THEY OUTSIDE THE DOOR??? DID YOU CALL THE GUY WITH THE DRUGS??? I DON’T SEE HIM!!
Nurse: Mmmhmm. We just need to finish this paperwork.
And then when we FINALLY finished the paperwork she checked me and said,
“boy you weren’t kidding, were ya!?! Already at a 6!”
I got my slice of heaven, aka the epidural, and before I knew it, it was time to push. After awhile of doing that my doctor looked alarmed. Laina was in an awkward position and as hard as I was pushing she couldn’t pass through. After giving it one last try they used the vacuum and when that failed it was time for the c-section.
I wish I could tell you I handled this transition gracefully. I’ve seen many episodes of the Baby Story and I knew going into it that I was not opposed to c-sections. I don’t care about scars. I don’t freak out about surgery or needles or anything like that. Every pregnant woman knows in the back of her mind that in extreme situations c-sections are necessary. What’s the big deal?
Well I freaked out, because you THINK that until it happens to you. Everything is calm and nice in the birthing suite until it’s time to move you to the operation room. Then everyone panics. Doctors start scurrying around, the fluorescent lights come one, people are changing clothes, you are rolled onto a rolling bed, the doctor tears off your gown and any feelings of modesty you once had are ripped right off. You feel like a fish on a table under the blade. Yeah. Not a good time.
The chaos caused me to panic. I’ve never had a panic attack, but I venture to guess I did at that moment. I couldn’t stop crying, shaking uncontrollably looking back and forth from Pat to my lovely anesthesiologist and back again. I flinched when the incision was made and what felt like a thousand eyes looked up at me.
“Can you FEEL that!?!”
I nodded and the anesthesiologist knocked me out.
Before losing consciousness I turned to Pat in very dramatic movie star fashion,
“I’m not. Going to be…….o….k……”
Nice way to leave your husband I should say.
Next thing I know Pat is telling me to wake up and that we have a beautiful 7 pound 6 ounce baby girl. I was beyond relieved. She was okay. I was too tired to focus on her face, but he held her up to me and I cried and kissed her all over. She had a giant bruise across her forehead because of the pelvic bone she was being jammed into every time I pushed, but other than that she was okay.
At that moment we changed her middle name to Grace. Fitting actually, considering the circumstances of her birth. We like to think her name means “In the light/line of Grace”…that should make the Hawaiians happy.
The nurses were keeping a close eye on my vitals after that. Apparently my blood pressure dropped to an alarming level while my pulse rate sky rocketed. I didn’t pay too much attention. I knew they’d figure it out. I just felt tired and sad that I couldn’t hold my baby yet.
Things got intense. The nurses could not understand why my vitals were not improving and when my IV bag ran out I couldn’t breathe. I turned to them with what must have been a wild look in my eyes and waited for them to give me back my air.
“Are you having trouble breathing??”
As I stared at her GASPING and frantically nodding my head yes, I wondered how long she went to school for that degree…nurses scattered. They kicked it into high gear and rushed my panicked family out. Someone got a doctor and someone found another oxygen mask and before you could say “Houston we have a problem”, I was BACK in the operating room…..