It was 2:15am and my c-section was scheduled for 3am. The nurses prepped for my c-section before my doctor arrived. My room filled with 3-5 more hospital staff members. My nurse, the anesthesiologist, the resident, and my doctor. I can’t remember if there were more people…I was dozing in and out. My epidural medication was in a clear locked box (with an alarm) that went off. My nurse and the anesthesiologist worked on that.
My doctor explained what was going on and what to expect. He also did something I never expected…he complimented me on being such a good sport. He went on to tell me that I shouldn’t feel bad about not having a vaginal birth. Although I was medicated, I was really surprised by his comments. I thought it was very nice of him to say.
Well, after everything was ready, I was wheeled out of the delivery room and into the surgical room. Having a cesarean section delivery is surgery! In the surgery room, the lights were very bright. I have no idea how many more people were in the room then. As I laid on the bed, the staff transferred me to another table. I tried to lift myself up but couldn’t. The nurses told me to just lay there and they would move me to the surgical table. I still couldn’t feel from the waist (what I had of one) down. So, the nurses quickly lifted me up and over onto the table. My arms were spread out, each on an individual table. Not sure how to explain it but it’s like branches of a tree. It was then that I dozed off. I heard what everything but my eyes were closed. I knew my husband and the anesthesiologist were behind me sitting down.
I heard the doctor say everything was ready and then he proceeded to explain how to do a cesarean section procedure to one of the residents. I dozed in and out throughout the procedure. I couldn’t see anything because there was a sheet in front of me about 1-2 feet away from my face. My c-section was scheduled for 3am and our baby was born at 3:31am…I heard that with my eyes closed. Not too long after that, I heard my baby cry. I immediately opened my eyes and looked around. The sheet was still there and I couldn’t see him. An interesting feeling came over me. I felt chicken skin (goose bumps) rush through my body from head to toe. My heart was full and my eyes were overcome with tears. Our baby – Samuel – was finally here!
Throughout my pregnancy, I called my baby “Sammy Boy”. When I heard him cry, I decided I wouldn’t call him that anymore. I would call him Samuel or SJ (I’ll write about that in another post).
My husband brought our baby to me all wrapped up. I kissed him and then he took him to the nursery. I later found out that my husband cut the umbilical cord. I got all cleaned up and then I was wheeled back into the delivery room I had been in for more than 2.5 days.
When I returned to the delivery room my husband was there gathering up all our stuff. The nurse that was with us going into the procedure was there with us when I came back. It was a little after 5am and I was doing ok. I was finally allowed to have a drink of water. When I could keep that down, I could have more and then some apple juice. I was ok keeping that down too. I noticed that the nurse kept asking me how I felt and each time she entered the room, she pushed on the area around my incision. It was probably every half hour or so. She reminded me that I had a fever and informed me that we would be moving to postpartum around 6am. Each time she pushed near my incision she asked me if it hurt. I was thinking to myself, “really? You really need to ask? Hello, of course it hurts!” I took a deep breath each time she checked the area and told her it hurt.
When all of that was done, I was wheeled and transferred to a postpartum room. The room was much smaller than the delivery room. The nurse informed me that they weren’t able to donate my cord blood, as I requested. Due to my illness, the cord blood bank was not able to accept my cord blood. I was a little bummed I did all the paperwork and stuff a couple months prior to delivery. But there wasn’t much I could do about it, so that was fine.
Before I talk about my recovery time in the hospital, I’d like to talk about my son’s name.
Next Post: What’s In A Name?