At the Hospital-Part #2 Scene #2

So, where were we?

Oh yes, the dreaded c-section was brought up. 

Before I continue the story I'd like to say that I feel hospitals push c-sections too often.  I'm very distrusting of hospitals and doctors in general, as I feel like they are all about the benjamins. That being said, I focused once more on our birth plan:

A healthy baby.

I could see I wasn't progressing.  And if what they said about Brixton's heart rate was raising a "yellow flag", as the doctor put it, then it was really an easy choice.  

When they told me all this Brendan was down in the cafeteria getting a coffee.  I called him and said, You need to get up here now.  The minute I told him c-section, fear entered into the picture.  

When they raise the alarm on a c-section, they aren't messing around.  I had 3-4 nurses working on me, one giving me a shave (I requested a bikini wax in a heart shape, but that didn't quite work out).  I think the nurse thought I was crazy, but everyone laughed, so maybe she also thought I was a comedian.  

I had my hair net, my freshly shaved netherlands, and not much else.  They wheeled me into the operation room.  This is where I started to go catatonic.  It was so bright in there, I was so tired and probably a bit scared.  I couldn't keep my eyes open.  I probably looked drugged or drunk or both, but I had only had the epidural, having refused a anti-itching medication (I was soooo itchy from the epidural.  They offered me something to make the itching go away.  Thankfully I asked about side-effects and when they mentioned the words "out of it" and "loopy" I passed.)

I was strapped crucifix style onto the boards.  I couldn't feel a thing.  Not a darn thing.  Brendan came in with his man-chest baring scrubs.  Poor thing looked so scared.  Terrified actually.  

I felt tugs and movement.  My jelly belly was moving around.  The doctors were talking about wives and wife stuff, which for some reason I found comforting. I tried the same thing with Brendan, asking him what he ate for breakfast.  As much as I was trying to distract myself, I wanted him to see I was okay too.  When they said "Ok, there's going to be a lot of pressure" I knew at that moment my life was changing forever.  

And it did.  Not only did I feel a huge amount of weight and pressure come out of me, I heard the strong sounds of a little baby crying.  My little baby with his lusty cries. A nurse saying "look at all that hair!", my breaths were no longer his; we were separated now and this part of my mother duty was over.

Brendan and I put our heads together and wept.  Wept for the sound and strength of his cries. Wept for his health. Wept for the moment. Wept for the experience and the changes and the future.  Brixton wasn't alone in those first newborn cries.  His mama and papa cried with him.  

Can I pass you a tissue? Because I totally need one.

The tears dried and when I could see again I saw a little tiny crinkled baby with lots of dark hair.  They took him over to the warmer to get him all cleaned up and weighed.  8lbs. 15 oz! 22 inches!  Wow!    

If I pulled back a little of the paper drape, I could see his tiny feet kicking around.  But actually, they weren't tiny feet, they seemed huge with long toes in the shape of Tic Tacs.  Soon, Brendan brought him over to me where I could get a good look at him and give him a kiss...which I promptly did.  

In the meantime they stitched me up and Brendan accompanied Brixton up to the nursery.  The doctors let me see my stomach and I felt pretty awesome about how flat it was!  Beach here I come!  That all changed later though when I realized I must have been 6 months pregnant still while standing up.  


At this point I was so incredibly tired.  I could barely keep my eyes open, talk or respond to questions.  All I wanted to do was sleep.  After an hour of observation, they carted me upstairs to the recovery floor.  When a new mother comes onto that floor, they play a lullaby song that announces to the entire hospital (including the parking garage apparently) that a new mother is in da house!  I think when they played the music for me I waved.  I can't remember, but that totally sounds like something I would do. I'm sure the gossip at the nurses' station included some tidbits about the wacko in room 513.


I don't remember much about this day.  I was so zonked out.  They wanted to bring Brixton to me, but I said I didn't want them to, that I had to sleep first so I could actually be conscious when I really saw him for the first time. I guess Brendan made me hold him though..I honestly can't remember.  I do remember having a really puffy face and my eyes were turned into little slits from being swollen.  And I remember eating Jello.  


How do I feel about having had a c-section?  I'm okay with it. I do think hospitals look at them as cash cows and push them too often.  The recovery so far for me is pretty brutal.  I can't believe I can't drive for a few weeks.  But in the end, Brixton's here, currently sleeping on my legs, all sweet and cute.  


My great-grandma Ella was 33 when she went into labor with her baby son.  She died in childbirth because they were unable to perform a c-section on her.  I was 33 and giving birth to a son.  I had trouble during labor.  I can't imagine what might have happened if a c-section wasn't available to me.  Brixton and I could have suffered the same fate as my great-grandma and her son.




But wait..there's more! Check in later this week (who knows when!) for the last installment of my Birth Story!

 And..please give us a vote!