Freedom!!!!

Yes, "Freeedom!", as in the movie Braveheart. If you are squeamish turn away now. I wanted to write about the C-section from my point of view because I was absolutely dreading it and it did not disappoint in the least.

I wanted to try and have a natural childbirth because my sister and mother did and I was up for a new challenge. They insisted it was a piece of cake. "Just listen to your body" and "redheads have a high pain threshold", they told me time and again. So when my babies were breach, I had to finally deal with being sliced open. I put it off in my mind until I actually had to deal with it on C day.

As we walked into the hospital, I was already shaking uncontrollably. The shaking continued all the way through the surgery. First, they hooked me up to an IV and got me ready to go. I still do not know if they put some drugs in my IV before I walked to the OR, but I was a little out of it as I got up on the table for the epidural. My thinking is that there were some drugs involved because I was unable to argue with the doctor who was so kindly holding my hand in the overheated room. Can you believe this doctor made ignorant geography comments during this trying time? He was trying to keep me calm, so he asked me what I went to school for. Upon hearing "geography", he then chose this time to ask me how many continents there were and if I could name them. My teeth chattering, I told him, but I really wanted to explain to him that there is a little more to geography than that. Imagery analysis? Computer cartography? No, naming the freaking continents! (For those who are non-geographers, this is what we geographers have to deal with on a daily basis.) He then thought it would be funny to say that he thought Greenland was a continent. Wow. I know he was joking, but was this doctor belittling me? I couldn't argue due to the shivering and drugs. I think OR doctors use this time to get their chuckles.

It really was kind of a party in there. My OR nurse and anesthesiologist were yucking it up all morning. The OR nurse was Hispanic and I was to call her Dora. The anesthesiologist was Korean and I was to call him Doctor-San. They said it was an equal opportunity racial humor OR. I asked him if he had any good Norwegian jokes, but he did not. The anesthesiologist, after punching John, proceded to pinch me hard to explain how it would feel. He kept asking, "does this hurt? does this hurt?" I told him yes it did, even though he wanted me to say no.

Back to the OR, the epidural did not hurt. I do have a high tolerance for pain and it was a lot less of a deal than I expected. When I was ready to go and paralyzed, they put up the sheet below my head so John and I couldn't see what was going on. But guess what? The shiny metal piece around the light fixture above my head showed my entire belly when I looked up! I could see them scrubbing me down. What a nightmare. I would have said something, but what would be the point. Maybe I was morbidly curious anyway. I kept glancing at my belly. I heard the surgeons say they were starting the incision. John wasn't even by me yet! Someone said, "Is someone going to get Dad?" In comes John and I'm shaking uncontrollably. You would never know he was scared. He was perfect in there with me.

So the bad part? They aren't kidding when they tell you that you will feel some tugging. OMG. I can't believe how much ripping out was involved. I didn't know it would take as much ripping and time as it did. I could hear the tearing within my body. I was making "uh" noises as they tugged. Blood spurted everywhere with one of the tugs. A drop landed on my forehead! I remember laughing at this because, who else would something like that happen to? This is the kind of thing that only happens to me. Finally I heard Evan out, then Amelia. It was so hot in there and I was so delirious, but thankfully I remember most of it. I remember joking with the anesthesiologist about John not cutting the cord. I secretly knew he would once he was pressured into it.

So that was the surgery. Maybe it doesn't sound all that bad now. The following days were very painful. I could barely move until I realized that two percocets at a time worked very well. I was also emotionally spent. Watching John do everything for two babies for three days straight was very trying. The Navy hospital does not have a nursery and they do not help care for the infants. He also helped me get food and get out of bed.

Later on, on the first day, I still had low blood pressure and a racing pulse. I learned that I lost a liter of blood that morning. Two different doctors came in and told me that redheads bleed more. Well, my mom and sister never told me about that! So we can start a bar fight at an Irish pub and go down swinging, but if we get cut by a bottle- it's all over! Anyway, at one point it was thought I needed a transfusion, but I warded it off by putting on rouge to disguise my yellow skin. (Not really.) Ya know how your hands have multiple tones to them? I had one tone in my hands and my skin all over: yellow.

Hopped up on percocets, I managed to get discharged and settled in at home with the babies. Haven't had more than two hours sleep since!