I would like to say that my baby is turning two today, but the truth of the matter is that he's been no where near a baby for some time now. He walks, he talks, he counts, he argues with me, he says the word 'actually'. Babies don't answer a question with, "No. Actually.... Yes!" Babies don't climb into their own car seats. Babies don't wear size 9 shoes. My baby is growing up. Happy Birthday Baby Logan.
After searching through the archives of this blog, looking for some sort of birth story from last year, I realized that I never wrote one. Not even anything about Logan's first birthday. So I looked back to August of 2008 for a post from when he was born and all I found were a few pictures. No story. What a bad mommy/blogger I am! So here goes.... geez, I hope I can remember.
It was two years ago today that we woke up before the sun to drive to the hospital. I had waited and waited for those labor pains, those contractions, that water to break. I waited in vein. After my emergency c-section with Nola I was bound and determined to not have a repeat c-section with baby number 2. The term is VBAC - you can look it up if you want. But in this scenario they (the doctors) get a little nervous if you go too far into your pregnancy or you appear to be having a rather large child. My OB scheduled my repeat c-section for the week after my due date. But as the dates got closer the measurements got bigger and she pushed me to up the date. I did. So it was to happen a week before my due date (I think, the dates were really wacky with this kid, they kept changing my due date... it was complicated) unless I went into labor on my own. I never did.
So with Nola safely at Grandma's house we woke up in the dark to drive to St. Luke's, a hospital we were unfamiliar with (my OB was at MO Baptist and my ultrasounds were all at St. John's - does this pregnancy sound confusing to you yet? it was!). Basically, we got lost. Kirk was driving, it was dark, he was sleepy and they decided to redo Highway 40/64 during my pregnancy to screw with him. Construction, a wrong turn this way, an inability to stop and figure things out... and we were late to the hospital to have our son. I was freaking out in the car... because I HATE to be late to anything, especially something so important as the end of my pregnancy and the birth of my child. I was almost panicking when Kirk tells me, "Just calm down, they obviously can't start until we get there..." He was right.
We arrived late and come to find out my OB, who was also traveling to a hospital she didn't normally go to, was even later than we were. We were there for quite a while actually, and she was still a no-show. The nurses asked me if she knew she was supposed to come to this hospital... As if I needed the added responsibility of keeping up with my doctor while worrying about being cut open in the very near future... Eventually she showed up with some valid reason. And the games began. They got Kirk into scrubs, and prepped me. Off we wheeled into the OR. It was such a strange and unwanted change from the last c-section. With Nola, it was an Emergency. Capital E emergency. It was fast, it was quick, there was no chit chat, no moments to contemplate the surgical knives, the bright lights, the cold OR... I was rushed in, baby out, bing bang boom, here's your daughter. This time it was s-l-o-w....
There was no rush, no hurry. The nurses all took their time to explain everything to me, to show me things I didn't want to see. My doctor was very chitty chatty, apparently while sitting in traffic she had a few cups of coffee (which I would have killed for at that moment because I'd had no sleep). I remember worrying about Kirk. Worrying about the baby. Wishing it would all go faster. They sat me up to give me the epidural and had me lean into Kirk. I was so cold that I don't even remember it hurting. That OR was freezing, especially when you're basically naked. And then they told me that I had to speak the words out loud that I was there for a c-section. The nurse was telling me that my doctor would be asking me, "What operation are we doing today?" and that the correct answer was, "I'm here to have a c-section." They told me this twice. Apparently there have been mix ups where doctors have preformed the incorrect surgeries on patients so it has become policy to have the patient speak it outloud so there is no question... I must say, a real confidence booster in the medical profession, again, while naked and numb from the mid-section down... Like I could get up and walk away now? Anyway... so several other things were said and preparations done.
The my OB says to me something like, "Are we here to have this baby?" and my response was something along the lines of, "Ready when you are..." She says, "So, how are we going to do this?" To which I replied, "Quickly?" They all looked at me like I was a damn fool... And one of the nurses said, "You're supposed to say you're here for a c-section..." Oh yeah! The question you already told me the answer to, twice... Well, she asked the question wrong... and I'm NAKED here people... Cold, naked, and cold... and naked... get on with it already! So I said it.
I remember getting very nauseous. And they gave me some medicine for that in my IV which was hot in my veins. But the nausea went away rather quickly... Oh, I love you IV. And then the party got started. Surgery while you're awake is a very awkward thing. You're looking at the person who is cutting you open... the top of their head anyway. They glance over at you from time to time and smile... just keep your eyes on your work! I could feel pressure of touch but no pain. Amazing epidural. I love you epidural. But... you can however smell the cauterization of your flesh. Yep... I said it... it ain't pretty. And... when it comes time to actually get the little monster out... well, that's not pretty either.
Some one is reaching into you to pull out someone else. Just think on that one for a second... There's only so much room in there. So your organs get a little pushed around. The pressure on your stomach and your lungs is a lot to take. And if you're a breath-holder like I am then you basically feel like you will be passing out the whole time. The nurses kept telling me to breathe. And I'm glad they did because I didn't until each time they told me to. I tend to just hold my breath and tense up in physical situations. But then, the pressure was removed. The weight lifted. And that momentarily felt almost as bad. It was a very strange and empty feeling. But it passed quickly and was replaced by the urgency to know if the baby was okay.
The doctor handed him to the nurse and up in the air he went. And out came his cry. Man did that kid cry! It was loud and long and alive. I briefly saw him before they took him into a side room to check him out. Kirk went too. I just laid there and cried as I took deep breaths.
Then my doctor said to me, "I think you made a REALLY good decision to go with the c-section!"
"Why? Is he really big?" They hadn't officially weighed him yet so I didn't know.
"Well, he looks normal sized, but man, he has a BIG head! That would have
hurt!"
And he did. He does. My big headed baby boy! He was eight pounds, one ounce. And all head. He was really skinny and really long. He looked a little like an alien. He had long fingers and long toes. And I kept thinking to myself, 'That means he's going to be really big...' and then I remembered that's what they say about dogs, not babies! Kirk said he looked like Uncle Pauly from the Rocky movies... and he did, in those first few days when babies are all wrinkled and look like the elderly. But he was beautiful. He was born.
And now he's two. Even though he claims he's three. (He refuses to accept the fact that he's two and keeps telling me: No, my two! My thfree, like No-ah!) Sibling solidarity, whadda ya gonna do? I guess he'll just think he's three. People might believe him, he's still huge. Maybe we can get him into kindergarten early!
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