Best Day Ever!

July 6, 2005. The best day ever.
Please understand, I am just going to blabber on as I remember it. Basically, it may be a little hard to read or understand, but I will try to make it coherent.

My very wonderful friend Carol showed up at the house around 8 am. I had just gotten out of the shower and was sitting on the couch dreading the trip to the hospital. Angry because I was starving to death. The doctor told me not to eat as of midnight the night before and I really wanted a baked potato! I contimplated beating my husband to a pulp when I heard him pouring himself a bowl of cereal. I think the baby heard it too because he started doing back flips again.

As much as I had been looking forward to this day, I still wasn't prepared to share my little baby with anyone else yet. I didn't want to become un-pregnant. For the last nine months this baby was all mine. Only I could feel the sweet thump of his kicks. Only I could feel the subtle way he wiggled when I listened to my Riding with the King CD at full blast while driving down the road. Only I had the physical connection with this sweet, innocent spirit, and I really didn't want to share. Selfish? YEP. Scared of the C-Section? Not really. I had prepared myself for it, although I still couldn't shake the image of my baby being "cut out" as if I was a fresh turkey being prepared for dinner. Morbid, I know, but I have a vivid imagination and it really wasn't helping my state of mind.

We went through our hospital bag, made sure we had the camera etc., and headed out the door. The drive to the hospital takes about 30 minutes. It was the shortest 30 minutes I ever experienced. We drove into the parking lot, parked the truck and got out. Carol and Jason carried the bags and the baby seat. I didn't move. They probably got about 15 feet from me before they realized I wasn't walking. Carol rushed back. "What's wrong! Do you hurt?" She knew I was nervous, but apparently I looked a little pale too. "No, I just don't want to go in now. Maybe we should just cancel and wait until the baby comes on his own accord." Jason took a deep breath and again went through the speach we had been giving ourselves about how this would be the best option for delivery. Fine. I started for the doors.

When we reached the doors, again I balked. Nope, Not going, Can't Make ME!! Carol grabbed one arm and Jason the other and they nudged me not so gently through the door. We checked in, got all the paperwork signed and headed up to the fourth floor. As we approached the obstetrics wing, we were supposed to pick up the phone, announce ourselves and then they would let us through the locked doors. I couldn't pick up the phone. Jason gave me a look. Carol gave me an even worse look, so I picked up the phone, announced myself and my "party" and we walked into the corridor.

They assigned me to a plain white room with two beds, a tv and a really really old dresser/shelf thingie. This didn't look as welcoming as the birthing rooms I saw during the tour. The nurse explained that C-Section patients got "regular" rooms. I asked her, "So having a C-Section makes me less of a person? I can't have a pretty room with a radio and curtains and warm colors because I am not perfect enough to have a baby the natural way?" She didn't know how to respond. Instead, she simply told me to put on the gown and someone would be in shortly to check me out and prep me for surgery.

Great! Now I am nervous, hungry, angry and in a very combative mood. This should be fun.

I got my gown on while Jason and Carol tried to talk me down. I relaxed a little. Two nurses walked into the room. They explained some more paperwork, how the procedure works, that the baby will be within sight of either Jason or I the whole time, the wrist bands, etc etc. I was feeling a little better. I knew what to expect and I told myself I was ready. Then one of the nurses made a mistake. She pissed me off. I suppose a first time mommy must be the best option to train a new girl. The new girl attempted to put the IV in my arm. She failed not once, not twice, but SIX times. When she was done I had given her and her nurse teacher a good tongue lashing. I think I made her cry. I didn't care. Are you kidding! I called the nurses station and asked to talk to my doctor. They told me he would be in just prior to the procedure. Great. I can't even yell at him.

After about an hour or so, the anesthisiologist came in and asked me questions, explained his part in the process etc. A very nice man, friendly and understanding. I liked him, and for me to say that about a doctor of any kind means a lot. Soon after he left Dr Chacon came in grinning and excited. I glared at him. He got a spooked look on his face and asked what was wrong. I told him about the nurse and I wanted him to make sure I only get seasoned nurses from this point on! He smiled and agreed to talk to the head nurse about it.

Dr Chacon brought in the "suit" that Jason was to wear for the procedure and as Jason dressed he explained the process again. Ok, I am ready. They wheeled me into the operating room. A surgical nurse helped me sit up so that the anesthisialolgist could give me the epideral. She asked me to lean on her so that he could get the best view of my back and be sure to hit the right spot. Ha! I must have outweighed her by like 900 lbs!! She assured me that it wasn't a problem so I leaned into her fully expecting to send us both toppling onto the floor. No falling. We all survived.

They lay me back on the table. Head lower than feet (ooh fun) and started to get everything ready. I was shaved. I was poked, prodded, adjusted, measured and finally ready to go. The anesthisiologist (Boy was he great) talked to me the whole time. I didn't even notice Dr Chacon and Jason walk in. He explained that he would be at my head the whole time, that Jason would be on the other shoulder and what the readings meant on the little machine he hooked me up to. Ok, cool. I am ready.

I felt like I was being crucified upside down with my arms out and the blood rushing to my head, but strangely I was comfortable. Dr Chacon's head popped up over the sheet wall and asked if we were ready. I said, "Yep, but you better make sure that baby cries first thing or I will come off this table like tidal wave." He said, "I believe it, don't worry everything will be fine." I took a deep breath as I felt the pressure from the first incision. No pain, just pressure.

I heard the surgery chatter, listened to my nervous husband blab and watched the monitors to make sure I was still breathing. (I couldn't tell I was breathing. It was weird. ) Suddenly I felt like someone was trying to climb up into my chest cavity! I started to panic. The anesthisiologist calmed me down. (did I mention he was great?) Explained that they have to push my stomach and other organs out of the way so that they could get to the baby. I started to laugh. Great, like my boobs weren't big enough. I took a deep breath and relaxed.

Chacon called out, "Jason, do you want to see?" Jason stood up and was allowed to watch as they pulled my son the rest of the way out, cut the cord and cleaned his mouth. I felt his hand tense. Then I heard it. The most wonderful, beautiful, screeching, cry that you could ever imagine. Then there was a gulp, and boom, he was off again. They held him up so that I could see him. The most beautiful little face. I reached out to touch him and realized that my arm was strapped down. I almost lost it!! The anesthisiologist tapped my left shoulder and told me it was free. I reached up and touched his little hand just before they took him to the table for his check up.

I laid there and listened to him scream. My God was he pissed. I kept asking if he was ok. Over and over. Jason was with him at the exam table and called back that he was fine. He counted his fingers and toes. He had ten of each. Every time the doctor checked off something from his exam list, Jason called to me the results. I felt like I was dying!! I need to touch him. I want him, He is mine!! The exam only took a few moments, but it felt like forever.

Eventually, Jason brought over to me this little screaming bundle and the nurse helped him lay the baby on my chest as I was getting stitched back together. I said, "Hi there beautiful baby boy." He instantly stopped crying. He opened his eyes and just looked at me. I could have stayed in that moment forever. I studied every inch of his little face. Watched his nostrils move, his lips, his eyes, felt his warmth. I felt his love and my love simply combine fully. He is perfect. He is beautiful. I wouldn't have been suprised to see the heavens open up with a holy beam of light gently illuminating our faces. In that moment we were the only to beings on earth! This is my reason for being. This is my angel.

They took my baby and my husband away for a more detailed exam. The anesthisiologist and Dr Chacon congratulated me then went back and forth explaining what was to happen next. They were putting the bandage on my incision as Chacon excused himself letting me know he would be back in a few hours to check in with me. Ok. The anesthisiologist injected something into my IV and told me that I was to sleep in recovery for a couple hours then they would take me to my room to be with the baby.

EXCUSE ME! You expect me to sleep while my baby is in another room without me? No WAY! He insisted that this is best then helped them wheel me into a room where a nurse was to keep watch over me. I told him there was no way I was going to sleep. He smiled and said I didn't have much of a choice. The medication he gave me will relax me and I would be out like a light. He didn't know me.

I lay on that bed in the recovery room for all of maybe 20 minutes before the nurse was ready to strangle me. I wouldn't shut up! No way was I going to allow myself to sleep. My baby needed me. They didn't let me go just for asking, so I figured I would talk them into it. It worked. The nurse called the anisthisiologist back in the room. He tried to talk me into relaxing. NOPE. Finally, I got permission to be wheeled into my room so that I could be with my baby.

Kenneth Henry