After a few false alarms and one actual trip to the hospital (just to get sent home…oh the humility!)….the day of our scheduled induction had come. May 30, 2014.

I feel like my husband Ian and I left for the hospital that day with the wide eyes and excitement of kids.  We were giddy.  We were all set.  All packed.  Birth plan all printed out. Finally had our roll of quarters for the vending machines.  This was a tip that is on every Pinterest list for things to bring to the hospital.  We never used it.  It is now in Oliver’s piggy bank as a reminder of our last few hours of carefree married life.  Now anyone who really knows me, knows that I ADORE Pinterest.  Just love it!  But… the lists on there of what to bring to the hospital?  Sorry, but just ridiculous.  You know what I needed to bring?  A log book, of who was in and out of my room to check on our baby and a sign to attach permanently to my bedside that said “I’d like my pain medication now, thank you.” More on these topics later!

So I opted for a “natural” delivery….with an epidural, of course.  I’m 44, I wanted to enjoy this.  Now I mentioned the birth plan.  I must say, mine was pretty loose.  I was not attached to anything happening one way or another.  The classes we took pushed the birth plan printout, so we did it.  But I told the nurse when we got there…”My plan is to HAVE this baby.  Whatever it takes to keep him safe.”  And I meant it.  So after 26+ hours of labor (which included 3 and a half hours of intense pushing) my little Oliver decided he was going to tilt his head and relax for a while.  He was in a transverse position with a 14 inch head.  He wasn’t going anywhere.  My epidural had worn off a couple hours prior and the assigned mid-wife had a worried look on her face (when she actually was in the room) and decided it was time to call  Dr. Singer.  Hell, I knew that!   My wonderful doctor (who’s name is cutely appropriate) came into my room, chastised the mid-wife for making me push for three plus hours, and gently told me I had to have an emergency c-section right away.  Now I am getting a little weepy as I write this because even though my head was spinning around like Linda Blair’s, I looked at my husband (who was literally holding my legs down)…and the look of terror that was on his face still gets me emotional. I took a breath and was like, “Whatever we need to do…let’s do it.”

Now at this point, things for me get a little fuzzy. As I said, my epidural had worn off, so they pumped me up with some heavy duty drugs.  It was all so quick.  At least it seemed quick.  I do remember my doctor asking me if I could feel anything when he poked my abdomen.  On my right side I didn’t feel a thing, but the left side, a little… I said, “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine by the time you cut.”  Well, not so much.  So they gave me another push of anesthesia.  So Ladies getting a c-section, wait until you don’t feel a thing!! Apparently, I was telling jokes while they were taking the baby out of me.  Seems likely.   And I can’t say I felt any pain after that, but I did feel them taking Oliver out of me.  Weirdest feeling ever! And of course you feel the humpty dumpty effect as they put you back together.  I mean think about it…your organs have been squished pretty fiercely for the last couple months.  I truly believe my liver was under my arm for at least the last two weeks of my pregnancy.

I must say, what happened next is perhaps the most profound moment in my entire life and certainly the most intense.  Ian, who had went with the baby while they put me back together, brought Oliver to me and placed him on my chest.  My son had his eyes wide open, staring into mine.  The connection was unreal….electric, huge, emotional.  He knew me.  Me.  It is truly hard to describe.  A love was born that day, that continues to grow in leaps and bounds each and every day.  And every day I think, it can’t get bigger, but it does.  May 31st 2014 at 5:18pm, I became the luckiest woman I know. 🙂

I had thought I would incorporate all our hospital hoopla in one post, but there is just too much.  And I don’t want to gloss over some of the things ahead that I think could really help someone else.  Things I wish someone had told me to look out for.  Things to expect.  And of course, there needs to be an entire blog dedicated to my breast feeding fiasco, as I like to call it.  Let’s just say, not everything happens the way you want it to or expect it to….and you aren’t a bad mother because of it.  Wish I had known that morsel.  Until next time.  Keep fightin the good fight! And remember, behind every great kid is a mother who is pretty sure she is screwing it all up. xo