A Baby Story

Cue the baby music, I am going to tell my story of the birth of little Ivy Paige. I had a C section. That is all...



Ok, there is more. This is the loooonngg version, so bear with me. At 11am, 13 January, my mom and I headed to the hospital with my dad and Mia following. I am thinking that I will park in the spots marked for laboring moms. I know, I know, I was scheduled for a C section, but I was having real contractions and I knew the car would be moved within a couple of hours anyway. Well, my dishonesty caught up with me and we couldn't find a space. I drive around and finally go up the wrong way and park close enough so that I am able to waddle with some success to the entrance. The group heads up to the second floor and I check in, giving the woman 12 pieces of ID and insurance info and head to the waiting room to, you know, wait.

A nurse calls me about 20 minutes later. It was go time. I got in my fetching gown, which Mia has declared, "beautiful." I pee, get my IV and have to answer the same questions, asked by 3 different people. I love interns, residents and all of the other people that should have just listened to the nurse when she asked the questions. I meet the whole gang of people that are going to witness the birth of the little bun. The resident, Dr. Keys, is described by that guy I married, as a "hottie." Just what I need when I am 39 weeks pregnant and looked like a beached whale. I think she sucks.

The nurse comes back and says Dr. D is still attending a birth at St. Joe, so we are in a holding pattern. I guess I can wait, some poor woman is actually laboring and I am sitting pretty in a birthing bed, that seems to want to eat me. I ask if we can change the angle I am sitting at. The nurse is fine with that and hits the button to fix me up. The bed clearly has a mind of its own. Immediately, my legs are thrust into the sky and my head is dropped! Hubby is a little shocked, as am I, as is the nurse. She calls the move something that sounds like a trapeze routine. A backwards something or other. Fix me!

Around 2pm, we get the go ahead to drive me down to the meat locker they call an operating room. Dr. D is there already and apologizing. It is ok, I am in the zone of concentration of all the stuff that I am about to endure to free the bun from her warm little place. I explain to whoever will listen that I prefer to be informed about every little step in the process. I am weird like that but I don't like surprises. My teeth are chattering because I am not only freezing, but am afraid. Not that I really know what is going on anyway. The anesthesiologist explains everything and soon I am pricked by the "bee sting" that lets me know I will be numb in about a minute. Soon, I can't move my legs, yet they are demanding I switch beds. Um, ok. I lumber over and get comfy. The nurses count their instruments. Nice, at least I know they are looking out for me. I don't even want to know how much stuff they have to use to get the bun out.

I am mostly numb, the anesthesiologist is poking with his little claw, and they get right to work. The nurse takes a razor over my unmanicured lawn and then proceeds to remove the clippings with a rather HUGE piece of tape. Um, I am not totally numb and feel the yanking of the delicate skin of my lower regions. OUCH! I am finally numb and trying to move my legs. I don't know why, I know they aren't going anywhere. Dr. D and his wench resident get to work, getting things open and ready to lift the little bun out. There is alot of tinkering and chatting with the senior anesthesiologist. He is a nice, older guy with the gayest laugh I ever heard. The resident anesthesiologist is attending to my blood pressure cuff, which is killing me! It is literally cutting off my circulation and hurts more than anything that I have endured thus far. I mean, poking me in the back hurt waaayy less than this dumb cuff. Plus, my blood pressure is 155/100. What the heck, I haven't had a single problem with this until now? I can hear my heart rate drop and they ask me to take a deep breath. I would like to but all of my breath is escaping in that cuff. I endure the pain, thinking that the cuff will probably have to be cut off my arm or maybe my arm will be left dangling off the machine. I get a baby and it cost an arm, not an arm and a leg, just an arm. I am left with a ring around my arm of blood blisters.

After messing around in my tummy, I hear the familiar liquid sucking and know the bun is ready for her appearance. I am ready. Dr. D bends waayy over and lifts her out. I think he may be standing on a stool even. Who knew she was a couple of stories down? Ivy is lifted out and I hear, "Oh, my God!" This isn't something you want to hear, what were they talking about? The resident then says, "Look at all that hair!" She clearly had a little bit of hair. I still can't see her. She is whisked off by the nurse for all the necessary baby tests. She is weighed and measured, 7.2 lbs and 18 inches long. It is amazing what 2 weeks can do. Mia was 37 weeks and 5.2 lbs. I had given birth to a brute! Ivy had a little wig of dark brown hair. Hubby told me that while she was being weighed, she tried to climb out of the scale?!? She is a brute! Anyway, I didn't witness this so I am a bit skeptical. I am desperately wanting to hold my newest edition but my beloved won't give her up to me! Of course, I am laying, paralyzed on a bed with nothing to support me. He hands me the camera to see her. What the heck? He doesn't want to give her up. I don't remember at what point I get to hold her.

I am taken back to my room. I am woozy and need a long nap. Instead, I watch my family hold Ivy, while I am prodded at again. I am soon transferred to my new room. Hubby and I tune into the first night of American Idol. I am in and out of consciousness. Ivy's daddy holds her forever. I tell him he doesn't have to but he says, "She's new here." Very cute. It is adorable to see him hold the tiny bun, all swaddled like a tiny pink and blue burrito. Eventually, twelve thousand people come into to prod at me again. They want to know my pain levels. Who can say how they really feel at 430 am? Rate my pain? I can't move my legs, can't pee, am bleeding and my husband is snoring like a bear. My pain is high, can you give him something???

I am eating way more than ever. The food in the hospital isn't as bad as I remember, at least I get to order what I want. I drink multiple pitchers of water per day, plus juice, tea and whatever else they will bring me. They have these yummy breakfast sandwiches now too. Anyway, the food didn't make me sick but something did.

On Thursday, I am struck with horrible diarrhea. I am still having trouble getting around comfortably. This tube tying wasn't as easy as described. I am in terrible pain and am bloated like a dead cow. It is bad enough that these things are going on but this trying to run to the bathroom while I am in pain isn't cool. I tell the nurses and get some meds for the new problem. It takes over 2 days for it to kick in. By then, I have been up and down so many times that my pain level is at an all time high. I might as well lay in the bathroom. After a couple of days, I am constipated.

I have visitors off and on and am grateful. I am lonely for my husband, daughter, who is sick and my bed at home that isn't covered with plastic and makes me sweat like a beast. I d0n't watch TV and am not interested in reading. I sleep alot. My eyes seem to wander in different directions and I am dozing while I am trying to do different things, including hold Ivy. That isn't good so I have to deposit her into her little bed and hope she is sleepy also.

Everyone is sick in my family, so I have little in the way of visits from them. Mia is refusing to eat, everyone is coughing and wheezing. Stay away. I am lonely but I don't want Ivy to get sick.

On Thursday, my milk comes in. My boobs swell to 3 times their normal size. They are hard and look fake. I would like to give them back. Surely, someone wants to have huge breasts, just not me. Ivy's latch is poor, and given that I have no idea what I am doing, we are flailing. I soak breast pads in record fashion. Good lord, this sucks, literally. I'm happy to report that Ivy now latches like a champ and sucks like there is no tomorrow. Sometimes I want to hire a wet nurse. I am still soaking alot of things, like towels, bras, shirts, the Boppy, burp cloths, blankets as well as my little daughter.

I am ready to go home. It is Saturday, we have been in the hospital since Tuesday. The resident has tried to kick me out 3 times. Dr. D doesn't concur with her dismissal instructions so I wait it out. Finally, Dr. Jensen tells me to get out. I get dressed, get Ivy ready and wait for the pediatrician to release Ivy. We roll out of the hospital with a new baby in the backseat and a bunch of concerns. What am I doing with a baby? How do I take care of a baby? How can I balance my life? I am doing better now, but still have questions about alot of things. Every day gets better.