The O.R.

This could take a while to get through.  I guess I’ll just have to do it in installations.

Our O.R. nurse what a blast.  While I was in triage she cracked jokes with us, was hyper and silly as hell.  She kept telling us how much fun we were, and how most people were no fun at that hour.  I would have told her that I’m usually no fun when I’m woken up early, but since I never went to sleep it didn’t seem to be a problem.  I wasn’t even getting hungry, thanks to Dad’s nifty little super seed.

(BTW, they were chia seeds.  Yes, chia as in chia pets.  The seeds are apparently really good at helping you release sugars slowly, and are even better for you than flax seeds.)

When the labor and delivery nurse came in to talk to our OR nurse, our nurse made faces behind her back and rolled her eyes.  She was apparently not a fan of hers, and didn’t make any attempt to hide it from us, which made me like her even more.  The anesthesiologist came in to let me know what was going on, and exactly what he was going to do when we got into the OR.  He was so much nicer and calmer than the doctor I had when I had Ashton (and considerably younger, and a bit cuter).  Then they wheeled me into the room.

My sunny and bubbly disposition vanished.  I instantly began shaking violently.  They kept telling me it was cold in there, which I could feel was the case, but I knew I was terrified.  They got me on the table, numbed me from the waist down, and laid me down on the table to prepare for surgery.  Aaron could see through the window the needle that they put in my back.  Thankfully, I could not.  From the way he described it, I would have had an instant panic attack.

The music was an interesting mix of country from every decade, 80’s pop, and some more recent top 40 hits.  When Madonna’s Vogue came on, one of the nurses commented that she was unfamiliar with the song.  The others in the room where shocked to hear this, and talked about going out dancing to this song.  Jokes were made about my OB being a dancer and he declared that he was a disco king.  Everyone started laughing and I commented that I didn’t want to know what was happening on the other side of the sheet (they had the sheet up at this point, but had not actually started surgery yet).  For my benefit, my doctor came over to where I could see him, and struck his disco pose once more.

They let Aaron in the room, and got started working on me.  Most of it becomes a blur at this point.  I remember smelling burning flesh (I had a tubal while they did the cesarian section) and I remember feeling lots of pressure as they pushed her down (she was still sitting pretty high).  The only moment during the surgery that I remember was hearing the words “the gay-dar really worked on that one.”  Thinking this was an odd statement I asked what they were talking about.  (Actually I asked if I had actually just heard the word gay-dar).  They all laughed and told me that they were talking about American Idol, while they were cutting me open.  Seriously, I’m not sure how I’ll ever take my OB-GYN seriously ever again.

The nurse standing next to me smiled and told me she was out.  All I could think (and apparently say) was “Cry, cry, cry, come on cry, please cry.”  I needed to hear her voice and know she was ok.  Finally, once they got her airway cleared, she let out a very loud and healthy cry.  And I cried, and then I threw up.  I’m pretty sure those things weren’t related, just happened close to each-other.  My anesthesiologist tried desperately to give me anti-nausea meds, but nothing worked.  I was going to be sick whether they liked it or not.

They quickly finished up, I felt lots more pressure, and they wheeled both me and our new little bundle of angry to my recovery room.  As soon as she was out of the womb she was rooting (between screams) so I was able to nurse her right away.

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Published in: on September 22, 2009 at 3:55 am  Leave a Comment  

Long Overdue

So…

Yeah I’m still here.  I’m still alive.  Life with a newborn and a toddler is really exciting.  And by exciting I mean exhausting.  And miserable.  And totally sleep deprived.  Basically, I’m begging you to forgive me for totally blowing you all off when you were patiently waiting for me to tell you all about having our baby.  Please?

So the basics… Anwyn Renea was born August 31, at 8:03 am.  She weighed 5 lbs. 5 ozs. and was 19 inches long.

We had to go in for pre-op on Friday.  They basically got all my paperwork done, and drew all of the blood that they needed.  This would apparently take two people, three needles, three needle holes, and a whole lot of arguing with my veins to cooperate to get done.  For some reason my body refused to bleed for them.  I usually bleed really easily, so this was strange.

There was a couple in there when we arrived.  A young girl (late teens, I think?  Maybe 20) who was not yet 30 weeks, and was a first timer.  She was told that what she was feeling was normal, but not labor.  I remember being that far along with Ashton and reading everything possible about any discomfort I felt.  Every little thing meant a trip to the computer or the considerable amount of reading material my Dr gave me when I first came in.  I always knew the answer to every feeling I had.

Later when we were filling out paper work another couple came in (yet again, expecting their first).  It turns out her water had broken.  She made certain to tell the nurses that this was her first pregnancy so she wasn’t sure if she was going into labor or not.   It was kind of cute seeing her there, trying to remain calm and collected.  She answered all of their questions clearly, and had the feeling of someone who was on top of everything.  Her husband (I’m guessing) had the most terrified stare on his face.  He looked completly lost.  When we got back into the car Aaron and I talked about them, and how the roller coaster was just starting for them.  We talked about the first time we went through this, and how much like that couple we were (only I wasn’t at all collected.  I completely checked out when they talked about inducing).  This time was so different, so calm, so organized.  It promised to be a very different experience from the first time.

Sunday night I ate like a freaking queen.  Mom spoiled me with nice cuts of meat, and an awesome meal.  Dad went and got me a special seed that would help me keep my energy up the next day since I couldn’t eat anything.  Aaron made me biscuits (which I finished all of) around 11:00 pm.  Then I went to bed and didn’t sleep a wink.  The next morning we had to be at the hospital before 6:00 am.  Those of you who know me well or have ever seen me in the morning can imagine how well that went.  But it wasn’t too bad, the seeds Dad had fed me did the trick, and I was bubbly and energetic up until they wheeled me into the O.R.

Published in: on September 20, 2009 at 10:00 pm  Leave a Comment