C-Section Look Ahead

Change of topics here as I start to prepare for baby girl, scheduled to enter the world on February 12th. I will be having a cesarean section again, although this time I have the advantage of knowing it's coming.

There were a lot of things that were scary about my first delivery. I had terrible back labor pain (which the epidural helped but did not get rid of). I had killer, transition-like contractions at only 3 centimeters dilated that looked like a New Mexico plateau on the monitor instead of the peaky little Swiss Alps that were supposed to be there. When Baby Z's heart rate plummeted a second time during those contraction plateaus, my doctor decided it was safer for baby to do a c-section. Baby Z was four and a half weeks early, they weren't sure how big he was, and they didn't want to risk putting him through continued stress.

After the initial shock, I thought about the risk to our baby and the panic I felt those few times his little heart rate went down and struggled to get back up. My husband and I felt good it was the safest and best thing to do. And then I got really scared.

They wheeled me down into an operating room and began my prep. It wasn't an emergency in the get-it-done-in-less-than-5-minutes sense, so I had time to take things in and listen to the doctors and nurses chatter. At this point John was outside the room getting decked in scrubs or something, so I was alone. Did I mention I was really scared? They made me put my arms out, Christ-like, on these arms supports. The room was freezing. The anaesthesia from the epidural also makes you cold/shaky. I was shivering like someone having a seizure. This was the last straw. I started sobbing...and then hyperventilating (just a little). I do not recommend hyperventilating in a hospital. No cute paper bag. You get an oxygen mask that makes you feel the exact opposite of what it is doing; that is, you feel like it is suffocating you. The nurse kept telling me to calm down and slow my breathing. I shivered and shook and tried to calm down. I don't think it got better until John came back in the room.

When the surgery team was finally assembled, I was fairly calm (or worn out) and I lay there listening to them talking about a basketball game one of the surgeons had to leave early from to perform my c-section. I was slightly indignant that they could so casually discuss such non-essential topics when my life was in their hands. Then, I thought, casual co-worker chatter was a good sign that this surgery was routine and fairly low risk. When they pulled Baby Z out of me, someone lowered the curtain slightly so I could see him being lifted out. If I could find that person and hug him, I would. That image became a reassurance to me in the months following when I relived the experience and dealt with feelings of loss over the birth experience I thought I would have.

Two things happened when Baby Z came out. He screamed, relieving my concerns about immature lungs in a premature baby. And, the pain in my back stopped. Ahhhh. John went with Baby Z so I was alone again, but this time I didn't care. It's kind of a blur in my memory, but at some point they wheeled me into a recovery room and I got to see the tail-end of Z's cleanup. This is when I finally heard that there really were no problems for his being early and that he was an unexpected six pounds, twelve ounces.

When I finally got to hold him, we tried breast feeding right away. He latched on immediately and I was blown away at how much changes in just a few hours. Was this the same wiggler that was inside me less than twelve hours before? Is this him? Is this our son? And, although it took some time of processing through what had happened, I realized that a birth is a birth no matter how it happens. Some are easier than others, some go as planned and others don't. But in the end, you have a new baby. And the heroics of motherhood have only just begun.