In a previous post I mentioned that we were probably not having another baby and that I would expound on that later. It is later. I had a c-section with Caleb because I failed to progress over 4 centimeters for a period of three hours I think. That on it’s own is not such a big deal but there were other things happening (kind of TMI so I’ll spare you) and the doctors wanted to be safe. Sawing me in half was the safer way to go. I don’t really remember much after they made the decision. I remember crying because I was glad it was going to be over. I remember being in the operating room with my teeth chattering trying to tell the nurses my husband was squeamish. I remember a lot of pressure on my abdomen. I remember the doctor saying: “This is a solid baby.” Things get a little clearer from there for maybe 40 mins and then it’s fuzzy again.
This time was different. This was a scheduled c-section because my previous labor history and delivery. I had to be at the hospital at 6 for an 8 am procedure, only to find out when we got there we weren’t supposed to go in until 830 am. It’s a completely different thing when you know you’re going to have the surgery. You have time to think about it. I didn’t have time to think about it or be scared with Caleb. I was just so glad labor was going to be over that I didn’t really pay attention. I had an epidural with Caleb so the stuff was already in place to administer the drugs necessary for the c-section. I didn’t have that this time, and when you come in off the street you get a spinal tap. The very words make me want to vomit. I can’t even touch my spine without cringing now. It’s as horrible as it sounds.
Here’s what happens: You sit up on the operating table and hunch over your big belly. Then, they give you local anesthetic with a needle, “lots of burning right now” and then take a big needle and administer morphine. It takes a couple minutes for the stuff to start working and you have to get from hunched over to laying on your back before it does. Not as easy as it sounds when you start getting woozy. I get laid down and then my left side starts to go numb and I’m freaking out because it’s only one side! Then the doctors come in, they don’t even pay attention to you and just go about their business tilting the table and moving you all around. Thank goodness I had a great anesthesiologist, let’s call him Dr. Reassurance. He talked me through the whole thing because I was freaking out. Finally both legs are numb and I have none of the teeth chattering I had before so I’m relieved. Only now it’s getting really really hard to breathe. I feel really weird and I honestly think something is wrong because it’s so different from my other surgery. I say to the doctor, “It’s really hard to breathe” and he says “I know what you’re feeling, really nauseous right? It will pass.” Before I can say no not nauseous, it’s over and I feel fine.
Which is good because now I can focus on the surgery right? Blah, seeing my doctor lean over the drape with my blood splattered places on her mask, not so fun. She tells me there’s lots of scarring from the other c-section and she’ll have to go in at a different place. Not the best news. Then it feels like someone is sitting on my sternum and stomach. Dr. Reassurance keeps saying “baby is almost out” or “a couple more minutes and we’ll see baby”. Chris was there the whole time but I think he was afraid to talk because he might pass out. Finally, I feel the pressure is gone and there is a significant amount of weight lifted off of me. I know the baby is out but there is no noise. I’m thinking: “cry cry cry”, and she does. And then there were tears. Dr. Reassurance is congratulating us while still giving me the play by play of what’s going on.
The recovery from this surgery was not as “easy” as I remember the other one being. The morphine had a side effect-itchiness. I felt like my face was crawling with bugs. They gave me an antihistamine but it just made me sleepy. I was on a strong anti-inflammatory for 36 hours and then switched to big ass Motrin’s. I’m scared to death of Percocet so I didn’t take them. Last time the pain wasn’t so bad but this time I was counting the minutes until my next dose for the first day. I remember laying in the hospital bed, unable to move by myself or even get into a comfortable position to sleep and saying to Chris: “I’m not sure I can do this again.”
I have to wait 24 months between surgeries so I’d be 31. Recovery would probably be even harder next time. I asked my doctor if there was higher risk for my next pregnancy and she said: “No, but your delivery would be riskier.” Der, come on. I guess in the end I’m glad we have one of each, there’s no pressure to try for another baby, but I always wanted four kids. It’s kind of sad having that option limited or gone because of the surgeries.
