The C-Section

All three of my deliveries have had some sort of SNAFU.  With my first son, Deven, I went in to St. Joseph Mercy Hospital at midnight with a terrible flu two weeks before he was due.  I was induced and labored for 18 hours before they said I would have to have a c-section.  Of course, I read “What to Expect When You Are Expecting” and skipped right over that chapter.  I was totally unprepared.  With my second son, Conor, they said I could attempt a vaginal birth.  I asked them about my c-section scar, “Won’t it tear during labor?”  They said I had about 1 in 1,000 chances of that happening.  Then, they let me go 10 days past my due date and I had a uterine rupture.  It was the most pain I have ever encountered; I was screaming and cussing and pleading for help.  It was horrible.  I decided not to go back to that hospital.  But that uterine rupture made this pregnancy high risk and Jacob’s delivery was scheduled three weeks before his due date.

 

“Can you feel that?” 

“Yeah, I feel that.”

 “Does it feel like a prick or a poke?” 

“I guess it feels like a prick.” 

“Well it should feel like a poke.” 

“Whell it doesn’t!” 

“Hmm, sometimes it takes a while.”

The surgical staff talked among themselves.  On the operating table I didn’t feel like I had been sedated.  The anesthesiologist asked what station I listen to on Pandora.  I told him I like Deerhunter radio and he put it on.  He told me to lean forward as far as I could so he could begin the spinal procedure.  He pulled open the back of my hospital gown and was shocked at the mural of ink I had covering my entire back.  Others came to gawk and comment as I sat in irritation.  He teased that he would do his best without really being able to see where exactly he was poking.  I just concentrated on the music.  Then, my sister, Randi walked in gowned from head to toe.  She drove with her family all the way from Massachusetts to be my birthing partner and take care of my family while I was in the hospital.  All I could see were her glasses.  She looked very sci-fi to me and we both laughed.  She held my hand and stroked my skin while the doctors worked.  The final tug to get Jacob out pulled all the air out of my lungs and made tears run down the sides of my face.  Apparently, this is the point where he kicked the doctor.  People whooped and laughed.  Some were singing “Happy Birthday.”  The room was filled with joy as I waited to hear a cry.  It didn’t come.  “What’s happening?” I whispered.  “The doctor is slapping his foot to get him to cry.”  She told me a play-by-play of everything that was going on.  Finally, I heard him cry.  They brought him around so I could look at him.  He was all swollen and his head was full of dark hair.   After he was cleaned up and checked over, Jacob was placed on my chest, skin-to-skin, while I was being sewn up.  I immediately knew something was wrong.  He grunted with every exhale.  I looked at my sister and said, “He’s not ready.”  The very first decision I ever had to make for Jacob was how long I was going to hold onto him before I let them take him away to who knows where for who knows how long.

Jacob Fact #4:  “Transmission” by Joy Division was playing at the moment Jacob was born.