While my hands are free, I figured I would recall Owen's journey into my arms. Owen is my second birth. I was very confident in my abilities to achieve VBAC. It had been 8 years since my C section and I am perfectly healthy with no ill effects from the first surgery. Should be a piece of cake- right???
Here is the scene around our house the week of Sept 24th 2015. .... 2 weeks past due, Mother in law flew out for the birth of her grandson and she only had a week here in California. My mother was telling me to walk him out, the doctor was telling me to relax, and every woman I came in contact with seemed to have sure fire labor starters to share with me. (stressful is an understatement). Desperate to not let down my mother in law and the family that has gathered in our house; I tried them all and nothing was happening. Finally, the evening of September 23rd I was feeling 'different'. I went to bed and woke up at 9pm with cramps. THIS IS IT! finally! I got in the shower, thinking I had all the time in the world. By the time I got out of the shower I was yelling for my husband. I told him, let Aiden (our 8 year old) sleep, call my mom to come here and take him to school in the morning, wake up your mom, text everyone who has been on labor watch and help me get my pants on! I was feeling like an extremely focused drill sergeant- and then there was the pain. HOLY FRIJOLES the pain!
At the hospital a small city had gathered to meet this baby. I had no concept of time at all. I vaguely remember puking, crying and getting mad that the pain medicine was only lasting for one contraction. (reality was the pain medicine lasted for an hour at a time and I was sleeping in between). Oh sweet pain medicine how you have forsaken me. This went on for many hours. My pour husband was cat napping and trying to help me with pain. Bob Marley "one love" seemed to be the best pain manager. The beloved aforementioned pain medicine stopped my cervix from dilating... so even though my contractions were seconds apart, nothing was happening. Somewhere around noon on September 25th (felt like no time at all), I heard Owen's precious heart beat stop during a contraction and it seemed to take forever to start back up. No one seemed to be doing anything, there was no panic, no monitors beeping, no nurses rushing to my side. I couldnt take it anymore, I said.. please just get him out. It seemed like no one listened to me. (because I kept passing out I didnt realize things had already been in the works to get an OR). Apparently I was waiting in line for an OR. The trip to the operating room was a blur. I was so excited that we were finally going to meet our precious boy. My memories of my first C Section had me thinking it's all down hill now, but I was shaking... not with fear but really shaking. It was maddening... I was shaking so hard from the medication. My husband later told me that my blood pressure was so low (the actual reason I kept passing out), that they had to keep giving me adrenaline. I was shaking so hard and then I was freezing so they put a warming blanket on me, that made me hot and instantly nauseous. Oh man... what a miserable surgery. I guess I was pretty close to death but I dont remember any of that. I remember being so thirsty I couldnt talk, and I heard my husband begging me to stay with him and asking me to open my eyes, I was still shaking uncontrollably- at 2:02 pm on September 24th I heard my sweet sweet baby cry!
And best of all, I opened my eyes (still shaking like mad), in the recovery room to see my husband and son holding our precious baby and everyone in our personal crew surrounding them. The happiness and love filled my heart and then came the nausea. ick recovery stinks.
I havent been blogging at all. I have millions of ideas as I sit and breastfeed ; I could possibly blog while I'm holding the baby with one hand and my phone with the other. However.... the size of the modern cellphone and the average size of a woman's hand creates a problem. I can not handle this phone one handed. The only thing I can manage to do is lay the phone down on the arm of the chair and either type EXTREMELY slow or I can play candy crush. .............. Since I am ALWAYS one handed these days, I find myself spending way too much time wasting my mind playing app games. I am now hopeless and have done no writing, no artwork and am on level 512 of candy crush, level 230 on the newest candy crush jelly saga, level, 475 of bubble witch and when I am out of lives on all of those the rest of my time goes to reading other people's posts on facebook. I need an intervention, I need a bigger hand, or maybe I can try my hand at talk to text on my phone. Is anyone else feeling very trapped in the day to day of endless breastfeeding and baby care? I love my precious baby boy, and believe it or not I spend a lot of time with my husband and 8 year old, but when I am home alone with baby--- one hand is on my phone and the other is holding baby. The horrible truth of video game addiction is a very real lack of valuable work getting done. Maybe my spring fever will snap me out of this funk.
