At 39 weeks into my pregnancy, my OB did an ultrasound on my extraordinarily large belly to see if the bulge was really all baby or if I had spent a little too much time indulging in dairy. We found that my expansive waistline was, to my temporary relief, all baby. My baby boy was predicted to be about 9 pounds at 38 weeks and since I am 5′ 3″ and normally quite small, we foresaw this as being a bit of a problem. I wasn’t dilating and the baby continued to gain weight, therefore, the doctor finally scheduled a C-Section for 2:00 PM the next Friday afternoon.
I was somewhat disappointed to hear that I was not going to have the opportunity to attempt natural birth but was also thrilled about finally being “un-pregnant.” Being nine months pregnant in August in Dallas, Texas, was not the most pleasant experience.
On Thursday night, my husband and I settled into bed with a brilliant game plan. I wasn’t allowed to eat for 24 hours prior to the surgery so we were trying to figure out how best to curb my foodie cravings. We decided to go to bed really early, sleep in, watch a movie, pack our bags and meet our families at the hospital just prior to the surgery appointment. The next morning, we woke up around 9:30 AM and put in a movie before finishing packing. My wonderful hubby turned on a movie and we relaxed while we thought so confidently that everything had been so perfectly planned and organized.
Once comfortably settled into bed, I started to feel a little strangely. Next thing I knew, I was standing up staring at my husband in absolute horror as what seemed like the whole of Niagra Falls hit our bedroom floor. My husband looked disgustedly at me and screamed “You peed on our floor!” When I said nothing and started to cry (only because I had no idea what else to do), he realized that I did not pee on our floor. It was the time to step into action. He rushed to my side and, to his everlasting dismay, slipped in the amniotic fluid all over our faux wood flooring. He nearly knocked me on my very pregnant tush in the process. Still leaking amniotic fluid and not knowing what else to do – I ran to the tub and just stood there while my husband, in his boxers and drenched in amniotic fluid, ran out to the car to leave without me. He didn’t get far before he realized that he had forgotten me as well as our hospital bag. Unfortunately for him, neither myself or our bag were ready for the hospital.
In a mad dash to get to the hospital, I told him to forget the bag and grab me a beach towel. I put the beach towel on the car seat and off we went to the hospital. I won’t go into too much detail about the car ride. I am sure you can imagine a stressed first-time father driving a full thirty minutes to the hospital with no extra undies for the 2-3 day stay and a hysterical wife in the front seat.
We finally got to the hospital, checked in, and moved into a labor and delivery room. The nurse came in to check my progress but my back labor was so intense that I was pulling my husband’s hair out. She examined me and found that I had already dilated 5 centimeters. They then decided to cancel my scheduled C-Section and told me to give traditional labor my best shot. I cried…again.
My mom and my mother-in-law arrived at the hospital to offer their emotional support…then the rest of both families arrived. All relatives gathered in a nearby hospital room and started taking bets on the baby’s arrival time based on how loudly I yelled at whomever decided to walk into the delivery room. The betting pool was fairly large according to my husband whom also chose to participate.
After almost 6 hours of back labor, I finally insisted on the epidural. Dr. Ivy came in and administered the medicine. Within minutes of the epidural I found myself somewhat relaxed and my husband had an opportunity to check how much hair I had actually pulled out.
By midnight my poor family had resorted to playing dominoes in the same nearby hospital room they had been in all day. All bets are off since no one had bet past 10 PM. The doctor assessed me at 10 centimeters and announced the start of the pushing process. After about two hours of pushing, my husband crossed the point of no return. When he realized he had made a mistake that he would pay for until the day he died, he returned to my side only to say, “There’s no way that’s gonna fit.” I cried…again.
Finally, at 2:30 AM the doctor decided the baby wouldn’t fit (as my husband so eloquently predicted) and ordered an emergency C-Section.
Once in the OR, Dr. Ivy tried to remove all feeling from my lower half in order to prep for surgery. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t respond to ANY of the methods he used. Eventually he managed to get me comfortable enough to start the surgery and within minutes my beautiful baby boy was with my husband being prepped for his continued introduction into the world. His eyes were open and he was perfect – all 8 pounds 6 ounces of him. It was at that point that I sort of told the anesthesiologist that I would leave my husband for him. Of course, I will always deny ever being aware of having made that comment.
I didn’t wake up again until almost 5 AM the next morning. My new baby was about 3 feet away and crying. I could not move and, to be honest, had no clue what to do with a baby. In a panic, I threw my pillow at my exhausted husband whom had fallen asleep on the floor of my hospital room. He immediately noticed the baby crying and ran out of the room. Fortunately for me, he returned and he returned with help. The nurse laughed at our lack of baby know-how but was a willing teacher for the parenting newbies.
Despite everything that seemed to go wrong, we survived the pregnancy, the labor, and even the hilariously haphazard delivery of our beautiful baby boy.