The doctor: Ok, I can't say this enough, I love my obgyn. I feel like there must have been some type of doctor matching website and we were compatible of 57 different points. I thoroughly enjoy my office visits with him, because there is nothing that I can tell him or experience that he hasn't a) seen before and b) that he can't trump. Literally. He's an older guy and I swear that if I went to him and said that my vagina was "humming" "A Whole New World" from Aladdin, he would tell me not to worry. Then, he would let me know that one time, a patient of his came in and her vagina was "humming," "Push it" by Salt N Peppa. And my vagina "humming" wouldn't seem to bad. The thing I like the most about him, is that he treats me well. Like called me beautiful when I was 9 months pregnant and I told him I was tired, well.
The morning of: I had to go to pre admissions testing the day before my csection and they let me know that I would get a call that day and I would then find out what time I needed to be at the hospital. I just assumed that I would have to go in really early, so I would probably have to pack the night before. (Something you should know, I never pack early. I only pack the morning of. In other words: you will never have to worry about tripping over the pregnancy just in case bag packed and ready to go at the back door.) But I didn't have to be at the hospital until 8:00 am, so I could pack that morning; no one was as excited as me. The morning was hectic; we got in our last pictures as a family of three and then I took my second belly shots of my pregnancy. We kissed Wubbles goodbye, drove in the freezing rain to the hospital and blared, Florence and the Machine, Kings of Leon and The Temper Trap. It was a pretty awesome ride.
The hosiptal: Hospitals and I aren't bffs, we're on again off again, luke warmish friends. I love the hospital when me or my family and friends need it, but am intimidated and grossed out by the smell when I'm not in total desperation. We arrived and got to the "middle recovery room" rather quickly; that's right. No cushy birth room digs, we went right into a recovery room and that's where we stayed for the better part of a day. I did the typical hospital protocol, put on the gown, answer lots of questions (why my parent's medical conditions are important when giving birth is beyond me, but I answered everything they threw my way), get hooked up to the fetal monitor (measuring the baby's heart rate and my nonexistent contractions) and got my IV (totally not as bad as I remembered from the first time). I remember laughing with Jim and my sister, Megan. My Dad got there and we talked and he was the one who held my hand while I got my IV (Jim pretty much passed out when I got my IV with Wubbles, so he waited outside the curtain this time). Then we sat around and waited. And waited some more.
The waiting: We laughed and joked and watched the monitor the whole time. Megan and Jim and I watched the OR to see if we could figure out when it was my turn, I don't know why we did this; but it definitely helped to pass the time. Finally, my obgyn appeared with coffeein hand (I'm assuming to stay sharp and alert for my moment) and let me know that he was "negotiating" on my behalf to go next. There was another woman that was there before I arrived but I went before her thanks to my doctor; talk about the ultimate "butt" in line.
The csection: I will spare the details of the actual surgical procedure, because it is gory, but it's also a really great experience. All of the people in the OR were so nice to me. There was this one nurse, actually, he was a male nurse so he was a murse and he and I kind of had a little bonding session while we were in there. He was talking so soothingly and fatherly that I asked him if he was a father. Of course there was the anesthesiologist; he was awesome too. He kept telling me that I was "vanilla" because there were no issues with anything and how much he liked that I was "vanilla." (When I came out of surgery, my Mom asked me how it went and I told her that I did good, I was very "vanilla" and she was like, "What?" It made me feel like me and the surgical team really had a lingo going that the nonsurgery people just wouldn't get. Like, "Psshhhh, Mom, "vanilla" means that I did well and there were no complications. It's OR talk, you wouldn't get it.) My doctor (I'll stop gushing) and the resident were there too. They did an awesome job. Arden was really stuck in there. According to the doctor, babies that are long and lean really camp out in the uterus and he wasn't kidding. At one point, he was leaning so much on my arm that it started moving backwards. I kept asking Jim if he could feel the doctor leaning and he told me no, but then when the doctor started using my arm as support, he finally saw what I was talking about. Jim was there; nervous as hell, but he was there. We talked about how excited we were and I kept asking if he could see things and he kept me updated on my "stats." He was wonderful. So supportive and he fulfilled his camera man duties so well. And finally, the man of the hour arrived. It took about 45 minutes from the time they brought me into the OR to the time Arden was delivered, but it seemed like just minutes. He came out with some gentle tugging and I literally couldn't have been happier. For about two minutes all I could say was, "thank goodness, thank goodness."
The recovery: Actually, this time, my recovery was so much easier. Yes, the surgery hurts. Yes, I threw up all over afterwards. But they give you lots of medication to combat these issues and I readily agreed to it all and advocated for more whenever I felt the slightest need.
All in all, the csection was easy. It was the perfect way for Arden to come into this world, a major operation, lots of people all around and family waiting impatiently to see him.
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