Then pushing (or trying to, what they don't really stress enough is that the Epidural makes it impossible to tell if you're pushing at all, ha ha ha, the joke's on me; I either get ripping pain or total loss of body knowledge) at long last, and my sweet baby's heart rate decelerating. Rapidly and frighteningly low, it went. I screamed at my husband, who had virtually promised to pass out but who survived the full he'll of pushing in a front row seat, if you will. He is a hero. I grabbed the nurse's hand and screamed that something was wrong. My doctor soothing me, calmly telling me it was time for a C-Section. I wanted to kiss her, I practically cut her off mid-soothe telling her to get me into surgery and get my son to safety.

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If you've never had a Cesarean, let me tell you that you look awake and you might even think you're awake, but they dope you up hard and fast. You are only awake by the thinnest of physical margins, and psychologically, I was pretty much out of it. I remember being cold, shaking (side effect of the meds), but feeling a whole lot of nothing other than that. On T.V. they always say "You'll feel a lot of pressure", but I could have had a linebacker doing squats on me and I wouldn't have known. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, hearing that first little cry. I said to my husband "Oh, that's our baby!" And thinking, he sounds so small and soft, is he OK? I remember ordering hub to get over there and not to leave our child alone under any circumstances. The Dr. pumped up my meds even higher. I don't remember anything else until I woke up some time later.

Apparently, however, I had amused hub and the anesthesiologist and nurse by launching into a semi-coherent tirade against Tyra B*nks. I'm not sure what I had against the poor girl, since I generally don't have a problem with her, but I'm assured that I was spitting mad and called her all sorts of names. Sorry, Tyra. I think it was all that Demerol talking.

Anyway, there are pictures to prove that hub stuck by Bean's side through all of the postpartum hoopla, there is a picture of us with our doctor, me smiling in a goofy, glassy-eyed way, and Bean with his little eyes wide open. But I remember them wheeling us into our room, and then leaving some time later, just as the numbness in my lower body was wearing off in discomfiting, jerky spurts.

"Nighty-night! Here's your baby! Good luck!" I'm sure they bid us good night in a more medical-speak way, but that was the gist of it.

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Posted in Personal Development Post Date 09/19/2019






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