Blake is now officially NINE YEARS OLD!
When I was pregnant for Blake, we found out that I would have to have a c-section. The little stinker was what they call Franklin Breech...he was bent in half, with his feet up next to his head and butt first in the birth canal. The doctor wanted to perform it on Dec 22nd and I asked if we'd be home for Christmas if we did it that day. He said we would not. So I asked if we could do it earlier so that we COULD be home for Christmas. The doc (who I did not like... the surgeon, not my OB) said he could do the 20th. Ok, let's schedule it for then.
On Sunday, December 19th, Mike and I got up and went to church. During church I started having pains in my sides. We talked to my OB's nurse (who went to our church) after the service and she said I was having contractions. Who knew? LOL!! She said to just keep track and if they started getting closer together to go to the hospital.
Well, they were about 20 minutes apart. Not even very strong. So we went home and I suddenly didn't feel well so I laid down and took a nap. My mom, sis, and nieces were on their way to our house because they wanted to be at the hospital for the 7:30 am surgery on Monday morning. I woke from my nap and Mike brought me some apple juice. I took one sip of apple juice and ran to the bathroom. I'll spare you any of the gross details... but I'll tell you I had it coming from both ends and my poor niece had to use the neighbor's bathroom because I couldn't get up long enough for her to use ours.
My sis is an RN and she told me that I was in active labor and that my body was cleaning itself out in preparation of the birth.
We called the doctor.
Then we headed for the hospital. The nurse told me I had the flu. Uh, yeah, I don't think so! Then I said I was going to be sick and she handed me one of those little kidney shaped bowls that would hold about a bottle cap worth of liquid. Sorry lady but unless you want to clean up the whole room I'd suggest you GET ME A BIGGER CONTAINER!
In the end, Mike helped me to the bathroom and I ended up not getting sick.
My surgeon had ordered an ultrasound first thing Monday morning so that we could be sure that Blake hadn't turned himself around the right way before surgery. Around midnight on Sunday night, the ultrasound technician was called in for an emergency and the nurses decided that since he was there and I was there they'd go ahead and have my ultrasound done then.
So down to ultrasound I go. Little brat is STILL butt first. Back to my room.
I was able to get a little bit of sleep and when I woke up around 5:30 I asked if I could take a shower before surgery. You know how it is after you've been that sick. Well the nurse said I couldn't take a shower because I had an IV. Wha?? So she brought me a washcloth and some towels and I did what I could to freshen up at the sink in my room. Yeah, THAT was pleasant.
Then the surgeon came in. Remember, I did NOT like this man. He asked me if I'd had my ultrasound yet. I said I had had it around midnight. The man FREAKED his shit out! He looked at the nurse who happened to be standing at the end of my bed and he screamed ( and I mean SCREAMED at the top of his lungs), "WHEN I ORDER AN ULTRASOUND IN THE MORNING I WANT IT IN THE GOD DAMNED MORNING! NOT THE NIGHT BEFORE! NOT THE DAY BEFORE! IN THE FUCKING MORNING!"
Yeah. This man was going to be cutting me open in like 20 mintues!
The poor nurse just looked at me like, "I am SO sorry." Don't be sorry... it's not YOUR fault he's a moron!
Well, they took me down to OR. Got Mike all gussied up in scrubs and booties and a goofy hat. There was a bit of a delay because they didn't have the right supply cart (I have latex allergy) so they had to scramble around to find a latex free cart.
I got the epidural (ick). Laid down on the table. The surgeon and my OB (who I had made SWEAR was going to be there) chatted a bit about what kind of music they liked. Someone turned on the radio. And the anesthesiologist (sp?) said, "Did you feel that?" I said, "No" and he said, "Good, they've started". Well thank the dear lord I didn't feel that!!!
A nurse said, "Oh I see a shoulder" and the surgeon said, "That damn well better NOT be a shoulder!" Turns out it was Blake's skinny little butt :)
At 7:54 AM on Monday December 20, 1999 the OB announced, "It's a boy!" (we did not know because we wanted to be surprised). They showed him to me for long enough to kiss the top of his head and then he was whisked off by the nurses while the surgeon finished up on me. Mike went to be with Blake. I was wheeled out to recovery where I promptly fell asleep.
The OB came and said that everything had gone well, but that there were a couple of problems with the baby. NOT a good thing to tell a new mommy who hasn't even SEEN her baby yet! Apparently Blake had a lot of fluid in his lungs due to being a c-section baby (it didn't get squished out during birth) so he was going to have to be in an isolette for 24 hours. He also had a retracted testicle that may or may not require surgery later. (It did... at age 14 mos).
A nurse rolled me back up to my room and as he pushed me through the double doors on the maternity floor he stopped and said, "Are all those people with YOU?" I leaned up and saw about 20 people in the hallway by the nursery. I said, "Everyone except that lady in the blue coat."
For the rest of that day I was confined to bed because the epidural kept me from feeling my feet. Mike could see the nursery from his chair at the foot of my bed and anytime anyone looked in the direction of the nursery he'd fly out into the hallway and say, "That's my boy right there."
I wasn't able to see my punkin. *sigh* He had to stay in the isolette except for feeding. When he was about 6 hours old the nurse brought him to me to nurse. When we were finished, the doctor came in and took Blake back to the nursery to check him out. Then he brought him back to me and said, "He's good. He doesn't need to be in there anymore."
Oh joy of all joys!!!
The nurse wanted to take him back to the nursery and I said no way. I want him right here next to me. She snottily said, "You won't get ANY sleep." And I (just as snottily) said back to her, "When I get home with him I won't either so what difference does it make? He is staying here."
He stayed. I loved it. I didn't get much sleep.... not because he was fussy... but because I laid there most of the night staring at him.
I never knew I could love someone SO much.