In the operating room, the nurses and my doctor didn’t waste any time getting started. As soon as they lifted me onto the operating table from the bed (which was a little awkward), they began cleaning the incision area.
About five minutes of poking and prodding passed, and I began to feel the effects of the new anesthesia. I needed a higher dosage from what I had before my birthing plan changed ( read that story here) to make sure I didn’t feel any pain during the surgery.
They confirmed that I was comfortable and began cutting. I could feel pressure and pulling, but it wasn’t painful. The most unsettling thing about it all is that I could feel myself drifting away more and more. A scary feeling.
I began to worry that I would be out of it when my son came, so I told my husband (more like whispered), and he told the nurses. They couldn’t really reduce my dosage, but they (including my husband) talked to me and rubbed my head and neck with wet compresses to keep me engaged through it all.
And by “it all” I mean the mere 10-15 minutes I was in surgery. It went by so quickly!
Before I knew it, they had delivered my son and was whisking hubby away to cut the umbilical cord. They did show me his face briefly but they had to take him away to clean him up fairly quick.
In that moment, seeing his face, I was so overjoyed. Everything I had endured (and was still enduring) was so worth it.
At approximately 10am, we welcomed baby Ezekiel Bryce (Zeke) who was 5lbs, 15.9 oz. (basically 6 pounds).
I wanted to hold him but my arms were too heavy due to the anesthesia. I felt as though I was floating above the room. That feeling of being loopy and distant during one of the most important moments of my life, made me extremely sad. I began to cry.
The nurses were so nice. Even though I couldn’t hold him they laid him on my chest so I could have some moments with him.
I cried tears of joy and tears of sadness. Mostly joy though!
The nurses reassured me that once I was released from the operating room (in the next 20 minutes or so), the meds would wear off and I could hold my son as much as I liked.
We recorded a good amount of the interaction in the operating room (after the actual surgery), so I was able to watch it all later. While lying on the table to get stitched up, I heard a nurse say that she heard me ask if the baby was breech. I wanted to say, ‘I told you so!’ But it was a lost cause. Besides, it didn’t matter as long as baby Zeke was here and healthy.
That morning was December 22nd, which means I would have to stay three nights in the hospital. I’m sure you can guess my next concern. Christmas! Three nights in the hospital meant we would be discharged on Christmas day.
Our oldest son was staying with family, so he was fine. But I had every intention of spending Christmas morning with him, not in the hospital. Especially since my due date was originally in mid-January.
My nurses were dolls though. They helped my husband and I get the gifts into a storage room beside our room. They knew our son would be visiting soon.
Hubby and I wrapped gifts together on Christmas Eve from our room, while playing old Christmas music and reminiscing. Those are moments I cherish, and a story I can’t wait to tell our sons when they are older.
Hubby took some gifts to our aunt’s house where our son was staying, and we kept a few to give him once we came home.
Out of sympathy, our doctor actually gave us permission to be discharged on Christmas Eve, but baby Zeke had been struggling with feeding and it was negatively affecting his jaundice levels. Against our desire to be home Christmas morning, we decided to stay the third night to make sure Zeke was okay.
On Christmas afternoon, we left the hospital with the best gift! Our hearts were filled with joy, and our arms were filled with a bouncing new baby boy.
If you are an expectant mom, I wish you the best and pray your story is overwhelmingly beautiful!
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