A week ago, we welcomed our second boy. It wasn't supposed to be a week ago, it was supposed to be yesterday. I was supposed to be in the hospital today, in pain and tears. Thankfully, I've already been through that and today, we are enjoying being a family and being home.
I had dealt with some preterm labor issues for a few months and was "taking it easy" as much as I possibly can. Then, I started feeling nauseated, and really really achy. This went on for about a day and a half, and while my doctor and her nurse thought it was just the very mild stomach bug going around, I really thought that something else was going on. So, last Friday when I woke up feeling as if I had been beaten by a baseball bat (and then every time I moved, I felt what I thought were contractions), I decided it was time to call my parents, get some help with Jack, take a shower and call the doctor. I did these things and the doctor wanted me to come in "right now."
So, as we were loading the cars (mom put me in my car, dad put Jack in his car), Dad asked me, "So, does the doctor think you're having contractions or something?"
"No, Dad," I replied, "I think I'm having this baby today."
"Woah! That's interesting!" Which is Dad's way of saying, "Holy crap! What do we do now?!?"
I reminded everyone that this wasn't an emergency, but that I did need to get to the hospital soon, as they were expecting me. I also took my hospital bag "just in case" although I was hoping we wouldn't need it.
I go in, get assessed and show signs of early labor. Fine and dandy if I were having a vaginal birth, but as I was a repeat c-section, they weren't letting me go anywhere without further monitoring first. I get settled into my room, monitors on, and then a little medicine to take the edge off the pain. Then my blood pressure dropped. Then Sam's heart rate drops. A LOT. At that point, I knew I wasn't going home. Even if they wanted to send me home, I wasn't going. I wasn't about to sit at home for a week wondering if Sam was ok or not. The doctor calls me and says she thinks today needs to be the day and I tell her that's great news because seriously, I wasn't going home.
Then things started happening pretty fast. Mom calls Kyle and tells him it's "go time." Anesthesia comes in and tells me my platelets have dropped (again) and they want to strike while the iron's hot (OK, they didn't actually say that, they were more professional about it). Then a flurry of nurses comes in and the pre-op begins. I'm still on my pain-med high, so I'm very compliant, but also very chatty, which in retrospect, they probably got a kick out of.
Anyway, things are moving along and as I am being wheeled to surgery, I see one of my dearest friends from nursing school. She wasn't working that day, but just happened to be there dropping something off for the other nurses. "Come see me in surgery!" I call out to her as they wheel me past. And she does! I was very comforted by this.
Surgery goes without a hitch. The doctor said everything looked great for us to have more kids (sometimes that is iffy with repeat c-sections, due to scar tissue). Sam had his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, but he was completely and totally fine-- 8 lbs, 5 oz. 19 1/2 inches long. Very, very healthy.
And we are very, very thankful. We have our two boys, and we are home with them. They are both so precious to us and I am so glad that I am sitting on my white couch, blogging this morning next to a sleeping baby, than in recovery after a c-section.
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