Where to start? I was pregnant and now I have a son. There wasn’t much of an in-between for me due to the emergency C- section that took place. I did have a little time of experiencing contractions, but I don’t know if being induced carries the same feeling as if I were to have gone into labor naturally. I have moments of feeling that I was cheated out of the whole experience. I feel a little tinge of jealousy when I hear about a labor gone natural. I know that harboring these feelings can be a little unhealthy, but I’m just being honest. I can share this and at the same time be incredibly thankful for the experience that I did have.

All the months preparing for a natural birth did not prepare me for the opposite- although I was always aware of the possibility in the back of my head- I knew there was always a what if- just never thought it would happen to Me. I find it cosmically funny and ironic, that everything that I did not want to happen happened. Yet it all turned out O.K. And more than O.K. I realize what a blessing it was to have capable and caring nurses around me and doctors who responded in record time to the crisis that played out before me. My fear of having a hospital birth worked for me rather than against me.

                                                            1.

The Friday before Weston was born we met up with the midwives to evaluate my condition, at that time I was a week and half past my due date. The midwife urged me to go to the hospital that night to be induced, but I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet. Everything looked good- my amniotic fluid was good and the baby’s heart rate was fine. I just wanted to believe that this would happen on its own, but the risks that could potentially happen after 1 ½ weeks overdue was a little scary to hear about. After some discussion and apprehension I came to a compromise. I would give it the weekend for this thing to happen. We waited this long, what is another 2 days?

Well nothing happened-not even a budge not even a drop. So come early Monday morning, Memorial Day, we headed to the maternity ward at the hospital. It was a slow start. We had to wait to talk things over with the midwife and in the mean time I was hooked up to an I.V. which filled my body with electrolytes, and I had two monitors that followed my contractions and the baby’s heart beat. My mobility at that point became very limited. After a discussion on what course to take as far as being induced, we got this thing started. It’s a weird feeling being induced. Not in the physical sense, but knowing that once I cross this threshold there is no going back. This is it.

Slowly the contractions came. My routine was limited to drinking water and going to and fro the bathroom- hooked up and all. I felt like a science project attached to so many cables with monitors near by and my nurse always near to check on things. The room seemed to become more confined as time went by with not much to look at except the monitor that showed the rise and fall of my contractions like a seismograph. There was a TV, but besides it being a slight distraction, my mind was focused on breathing to the waves of contractions that were coming and going.

I recall thinking to myself as the contractions came and went, that if this is what normal women feel when they go into labor, that this really sucks. No wonder women opt for drugs.

                                                            2.

It had only been 6 hours or so since the beginning, and my progress was going well, surprisingly well.  It was after a quick check to see how things were going, that the first warning bell rang its tune, only it was the off beat sound of the baby’s heart rate that drew the nurses attention. The sound was akin to a horse galloping in slow motion. She had me roll over on my side to see if that would help, and it did. Most likely the umbilical cord had gotten tangled around the baby and slowed the heartbeat.

It wasn’t too long before the heart beat once again slowed down. This time there wasn’t much hesitation. The nurse quickly called for a doctor to help remove the Cooks Catheter- (this was the given choice of inducement) and in came the doctor that Andy and I in the past has referred to as Dr. Doom. 

The first time the heart rate slowed down, I didn’t think much of it. But it was the nurse’s behavior that clued me in that something wasn’t quite right the second time this occurred. And like dominoes falling one after another in succession so also the series of events that followed were quick to fall.

As Dr. Doom was pulling out the catheter she could feel the baby’s umbilical cord. She looked at me and told me in a plain voice that she was sorry, but this called for an emergency C-section. There was a moment when she thought she could push the cord back up, but no such luck. With her hand holding the cord in place I was going to have to have the operation. Suddenly multiple people surrounded me. Nurses and doctors appeared out of thin air and my midwife quickly came to my side and grasped my hand.

Trying to comprehend the situation was surreal. There I was lying naked from the waist down with Dr. Doom’s hand inside me being pushed out of the room- modesty be damned! I was thankful that someone suggested putting a sheet over me. I would have suggested it myself, but I was outside myself grasping at straws at how this could be happening to me.

As I was being wheeled out of my room a dark thought occurred to me; I may never see my son. After all this waiting there was this real possibility that it may not happen. It was then that I burst into tears, as I was being pushed toward the surgery room.

Picking out the voices that were talking to me was a challenge amongst the commotion of the situation. In all this organized chaos I was impressed and surprised at how these people were treating me. The surgeon looked me in the eye and introduced himself.

In all this havoc there was a sense of dignity.

There was Dr. Doom looking straight at me telling me that it was going to be O.K. There was someone who put oxygen over my mouth telling me to breath deep, which I was happy to oblige. And as we rolled into the surgery room I picked out a voice telling me that they needed my help transferring me from the bed to the operating table- which surprised me that I had to do anything physical with so many people around. But the best voice was that of my midwife that told me that my baby’s heart beat was 120 and it was going to be all right, for that was the last thing I heard before the anesthesia kicked in.

From a fog I awoke. From the beginning of my turmoil till the time I woke up from surgery was 10-15 minutes total, but that space between rooms held a lifetime of details.

At the far side of the room I saw my baby boy being weighed by a nurse. ‘Hmph’, I thought, ‘so that’s what you look like’. I immediately could feel the pain in my lower abdomen from my surgery, and there in the room besides me was Andy, my mom and my step dad. Looking around feeling lethargic and groggy I knew that my boy was in good hands. I need not worry anymore.

Boy was I thankful. Thankful and blessed for all those that surrounded me and took care of me. Dr. Doom was Dr. Awesome. The nurses, midwife, surgeon, and staff kicked ass! I couldn’t believe that this all happened, and so fast! A quick ending to a long pregnancy- but at long last there I was looking at my boy, Weston Carlton See.