January 19th was the day our ultrasound confirmed George was solidly, unequivocally, comfortably frank breech (in fetus terms, backasswards in the womb!). You may remember my initial reaction... I was devastated. I suspected it, but sitting there in the office and having the doctor nonchalantly explain that "in these situations" they just schedule a c-section for the 39th week. Oh, also, there was that comforting statistic she rattled off about how roughly 3% of her patients end up with a scheduled C/S for breech presentation. So either 1) I am a freak and fall into that tiny percentage, or 2) Hooray! Odds are in my favor that we won't end up doing the C/S!
Of course we all know what happened. I cried. I downward-dogged myself silly with the hope that inverted positioning would convince George to turn. I pelvic tilted my way from here to eternity.... and at 39 weeks and 2 days, as I sat in the hospital awaiting my final ultrasound, I knew that he was still a breech little booger. And by that time, I was okay. I was better than okay. I was excited to meet my son and I was accepting of the situation. My C/S grief was well worked out during weeks 37 and 38, and for that I am exceedingly thankful. By week 39 I just wanted to safest delivery for George and was prepared to welcome that delivery as my birth experience, however it happened. And it went like this:
Tuesday night and into the wee hours of Wednesday morning, February 10th, I barely slept a wink. I was waking every hour to stare at the green glowing alarm clock, waiting for it to read 5:00 AM. We had to be at Labor and Delivery by 6:00 AM. My clothes were laid out, my bag was packed, and I had showered before going to bed. Dimitri and I were so jazzed but also terrified that we were actually HAVING A BABY OMFG WHAT THE HELL HOW DID THIS HAPPEN AAAAAAARGH. You know, the usual first-time parent jitters.
When we arrived at L&D, we must have come in the back way because we could NOT find the nurse's station, and we had to ask a few random people in the hallway until we made it to the sign-in area. I felt SO conspicuous walking through that hospital, with my giant belly, big grin, and boppy pillow slung over my shoulder. I felt like stopping everyone we passed and telling them "I'M HAVING A BABY TODAY!!! IN 2 HOURS! WHEE!" But I refrained. Ah, the joys of a scheduled birth - a positive attitude, makeup on your face, freshly washed hair, and an energetic bouncing walk into L&D. I imagine that is not how most of their patients arrive.
We were shown into the recovery area, which is also where they prep you for surgery. I had Dimitri take a final picture of the belly and then changed into my gown and prepped myself for the ensuing needle sticks the nurses were ready to give me.
It took 2 tries for the IV, which isn't bad considering some horror stories I've heard. I have to say that it didn't even hurt that much - I was pleasantly surprised. The most painful part of the entire morning of the C/S was when the nurse shaved me (NO COMPASSION
AT ALL FOR HER FELLOW WOMAN, INTERNETS). That huuuuurt. She was not nice.
After I was all prepped and ready, they took me into the OR where the anesthesiologist did my combo spinal block and epidural. Dimitri had to wait outside and change into his OR scrubs. The room was SO COLD. I was freezing. Thankfully the anesthesia took effect right away and my legs got really warm really quickly (so warm, in fact, that I first suspected I had peed myself right there on the table, but they assured me I had not). They laid me down and I could hear people coming in, the doctors talking to each other, my doctor saying hello, don't worry, this will be awesome, you are meeting your baby!! And then she asked where Dimitri was, she wanted to talk to him, and a nurse said "Oh I think he ran to the bathroom". And I said "This is the story of my life." Without fail, three minutes before ANYTHING of importance (i.e., plane departing from the terminal, expensive Broadway show beginning, the birth of his first child) the man runs to the bathroom. He purposefully waits until the very end and then decides to make a trip. But at that point, all I could do was laugh. The doctors didn't care as they had other stuff to prep, and he was back in plenty of time. I really couldn't be annoyed! I knew he just wanted to give us his full attention for the next couple of hours.
When he came back, they told him where to sit and he was SO excited, I could tell, his little crinkly smile lines were peeking out from behind his paper mask. Everyone seemed busy so I asked "Are they starting??" and the anesthesiologist said we'd been underway for a few minutes already! Honestly, I was expecting a big announcement, like an "on air" red light or a gong to sound when the surgery began. At the very least, I expected my doctor to say "Okay, GO, everyone!!" but nothing like that happened. I'm glad I asked because if I had been laying there, waiting for my C/S to start and someone goes "LOOK AT YOUR BABY!!!" without giving me adequate warning, I would have freaked the hell out and insisted they put him back in and give me a minute to digest what was about to happen (like
my wedding).
Soon, the doctor was saying that he was coming, and she told Dimitri to stand up and look. Prior to the surgery, we had discussed whether or not he was going to look "there" at the "guts and stuff" and he was decidedly against it. So imagine my surprise when he stands up, camera pointed at my belly, and says "Oh my God, he's right there, here he comes! Here he comes! WOW!"
I think that is when I started to cry.
He was standing there, saying that, for what seemed like 25 seconds but it probably wasn't that long. Before I knew it, the doctor was showing me the baby over the drape (all I could see what his face, and it was only for a millisecond before they whisked him to the warming table). I told Dimitri to go with him, and I could seem them in the corner of the OR. EVERYONE in the room was saying "Look at his hair! Look at his hair! We have a strawberry blond!!" I kept making them say it again. "Are you sure?!?" Finally the anesthesiologist asked me who in my family had hair like that, and I told him it came from my mother's side. I thought how happy she would be - VINDICATION! Finally another little relative to carry on the red hair! And we all thought he would have brown or blond hair.
I continued to cry. I couldn't believe it. When Dimitri brought him over to me, it was everything I hoped for in a C/S experience - both of my arms were free and I got to touch his face, skin to skin, and kiss his cheeks. We had our first family pictures taken by the anesthesiologist. I remember thinking they put a really ugly hat on him!! But it was nothing short of amazing.
(to be continued)
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