Since Andre arrived via C-section I've been limited in what I can do around the house. I'm supposed to get up and move around, but not too much. I can take little walks to run errands or get fresh air. I can't pick up anything heavy and bending over is verboten until otherwise instructed. Anyone who knows me knows that I bumble and drop things, and TR has the pleasure of quite literally picking up after me.
The C-section wasn't planned, although I had been told it was a possibility since the boy was measuring large on sonograms. We induced early on the 18th, I sweated out contractions until I was 4 centimeters dialated, and then I asked for the big guns, the epidural.
You know how everyone has a friend of a friend whose epidural didn't work? I'm that person. The anesthesiologist put it in, and everything seemed fine. Then the room started getting warm for some reason, (broken thermostat?) and I began to sweat as the contractions got worse and worse.
Considering I had the epidural, or at least I thought I did, I shouldn't have felt anything. Somewhere around 6 centimeters dialated the contractions hit pioneer-woman, Little House on the Prairie, painful. My face was covered in cold compresses and I was clinging to the side of the bed when they peaked. My mom and TR looked on, unable to do anything, and also unfazed. This was childbirth! I had friends who told me they didn't feel anything in labor, just pressure, thanks to the wonders of the epidural. Why did it feel like Doc Baker was going to appear at any minute with tubs of boiling water and a stick to bite on?
A wise nurse named Mario came in and took a look at me. Sure enough, the epidural needle was not actually in my back. It slipped out when I started to sweat. I had gone 6 centimeters unmedicated, and they had to reinsert it while the contractions continued to rollick. Not cool. Try holding still while a needle is inserted into your spine and you're having a weapons-grade contraction. Mario triple taped the needle into my back, and everything calmed down, as much as it could when one is trying to deliver a baby that is nearly 10 pounds. Of course we tried to push a bit -- a bit being two hours -- but I was quickly wheeled into the OR for the C-section.
Interestingly, the bonehead doc who messed up the first epidural was not in the OR. I wonder if my OB/GYN told him to go hops. Mario took care of everything and was literally two feet away from me the whole time. He numbed me from the shoulders down, which is a bizarre feeling when you're wide awake. Even though I was a little cranky to the OR team, (it was 11:00 at night!) they're all Aces in my book.
Afterward, in recovery, I was given a morphine drip to take the sting off having major abdominal surgery. It worked great, and then somewhere around 6:00 a.m. I started to hallucinate and see orange Persian cats, a la Peppe, dashing around the room. That's when I stopped hitting the automatic drip button and asked the nurse for some Motrin instead.
Just a few snaps and then we can all move on, post-baby.
The only photo you will ever see of me sans make up and in my pajamas. Three days post delivery.
Dr. Yuri. Best. OB/GYN. Evs.
Everyone likes this pic, although I think it borders on shlock.
TR, learning the ropes of fatherhood. Next lesson: Open wallet, hand over cash.
