The Star and the Sea - Part 2

It was 7pm and I was in the operating room for the second time that day.  My over-cautious anaesthesiologist kept on repeating that she had run the blood work that delayed my surgery because it was better to be safe than sorry.  I nodded while the attending nurses rolled their eyes.  A moment before she was about to administer the first freezing needle my anaesthesiologist paused. "Where's the surgeon?" she asked. "She's on her way." one of the nurses assured us all. "I'm not administering the freezing until I have confirmation that she's in the building." she said.  "Here we go again." the nurse in front of me mumbled under her breath.  We sat in awkward, passive aggressive silence while we waited for the call to confirm that Elvis was in the building.  The only thing calming my nerves was my amusement at the tension in the room.  We got the call from my surgeon and it was finally time to administer the needle. 

My back was cleaned with a cool, soapy solution and then I was instructed to bend over as far as I could from my seated position.  This was extremely difficult with the giant moving beach ball sized baby belly in the way.  I wasn't the only hungry one, it felt like the minions were circling my belly like gators awaiting their next meal.  I was instructed to stay still, Molly took this as a sign to kick me as hard as she could.*  They had to reposition me a few times before I was in the proper position.  A kind nurse gave me her hands to hold and squeeze while they administered the first, numbing needle.  It hurt.  A lot and I wasn't going numb.  When they administered the second needle I felt a warm, pins and needles sensation going over just the left side of my body.  I let them know, and they made some adjustments, but I don't know what they were.  I was finally, comfortably numb** from my chest down.  Next they inserted my catheter, shaved my bajingo and moved me over to the operating table.  The surgeon came in and started testing exactly what I could and couldn't feel before she made her first incision as they walked Chris into the room and directed him to the other side of the green curtain by my head.

Our surgeon asked us how we were doing and if we had any questions before she "got down to business"(my words not hers). Chris wanted to know whether on not Molly would be born first.  The surgeon explained that birth order was based on positioning and whomever it was easiest to get out first.  I explained to her why Chris was asking the question, Three days earlier on a car ride Chris mentioned Jack and Molly.  I disagreed and said it was Molly and Jack (since she is twin A).  We then proclaimed that forevermore whomever exited my clown car of a uterus first would have their name mentioned or signed first on all greeting cards and written documentation. 

Chris and I began to talk to each other quietly while the operation began.  I was lucky and didn't feel any of the tugging or redirected pain that I'd read/was told about.  Maybe it was partially because Chris had taken his surgery assignment of keeping me distracted with witty conversation very seriously.  Suddenly out came Molly.  We were all speechless, Molly included.  A nurse showed her to us and took her over to the corner of the room so they could assess her vitals.  Chris turned to me lovingly and said, "Do you know why she's purple?" clearly spooked by the fact that no one seemed to be even slightly dazed by the fact that I had given birth to a Gnap Smurf.  A nurse assured him that once Molly got some more oxygen into her lungs she would no longer be aubergine.

Molly - One Week Old

"Oh my, you've moved." our surgeon said and then explained that Jack was in fact head down (Jack being breach was one of the many reasons for the C-section in the first place) and he had made this bold move in the last week.  They removed Jack, but we didn't get to see him right away.  Jack was hyper-breathing so they had to keep a very close eye on him. 

They sent Chris out into the hallway, with Molly in his arms and instructed him to meet us in the recovery room after they finished stitching me up and decided whether or not Jack would need to get additional treatment.  Jack's breathing regulated while my doctor sewed me up.  She assured me that while she was completing the surgery that she looked at my reproductive system and that everything looked really healthy.***

Two nurses picked me up and placed me on a bed on wheels.  Another nurse handed me Jack and they wheeled me out of surgery into the recovery room.  Still quite frozen, I kept repeating over and over again inside my head, "Don't drop him."  I felt as if we were floating through the halls at 80kms an hour. 

Jack Attack - One Week Old

We were finally together as a family for the first time ever.  Chris and I took turns holding babies while I slowly regained feeling in my toes and began obsessively wiggling them to make sure that everything was all right.  A few minutes later my parents and brother showed up to meet Molly and Jack.  I was feeling very coherent and excited, however, Chris later informed me that my medication had me on a three second time delay, which he thought was hilarious. He was also convinced that our surgeon had pulled a fast one on him purposefully grabbing Molly first.

Over night the babies were tested every two-three hours for blood sugar and other vitals with a blood sample taken by a prick at the back of their feet.  After a borderline result Jack had to give hourly tests for a while until we were able to get three good ones in a row. 

The next morning I was ravenous.  I dug into my breakfast veraciously and immediately regretted it when I threw it up all over the floor just a few minutes later. (I later learned this is a really common side effect after a C-section).  It took me an hour or so to get my nerve up, but I insisted on getting up and walking to the bathroom.  I had been warned that things might feel loose or weird, like organs were going to start falling out of my abdomen, but I was fairly steady, considering and nothing hurt or ached badly.  I even managed to brush my hair, put on a fresh pair of pyjamas and deodorant before any visitors arrived.  By lunch the only medication I was on was extra strength Advil.  I felt like a champ, like we had won some sort of lottery.  Because we had.


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*Molly has been consistent in temperament since she was a zygote apparently.
**As comfortable as you can be in a giant, freezing operating room with 11 near strangers staring at your unmentionables.
***I was relieved that my oil change also involved some diagnostic testing, so to speak.

The Star and the Sea Part 1

It somehow seems fitting to write about the minions birth day just three days before their 18 monthaversery. 

When we made the decision to have a C-Section I was both incredibly relieved and stupendously horrified at the same time.  One of the items on my wish list* was to have a detailed and honest account on someone else's C-Section so I could know what I was getting myself into.

In the weeks before my surgery when I was in full blown panic mode Chris would ask me, "On the day of the operation, what would you do if the surgeon walked into the operating room and said, I'm going to cut you bitch?" Oddly enough that question always calmed me down and made me laugh when my imagination got the best of me.

The day of surgery we set the alarm clock for 7AM so I could have my "last supper" before I began fasting for surgery.  Yes, I really am comparing my last meal before my children were born to a death row request.**  While we waited for the clock to strike 12, literally, we played cards, talked, showered and tried, unsuccessfully, to take a nap.

At noon my mother picked us up and dropped us off at the hospital.  We knew that we'd be in for 48-72 hours and didn't want to pay the $150-$200 required to stay parked there for a few days.  Registration was a breeze as we'd pre-registered the week before.  Our choice of paying the extra $100 that our insurance wouldn't cover for a private room was the best money I think I've ever spent.***

This is me and Chris at just over 6 months pregnant.

Next Chris and I headed to a four bedded hospital dorm room for people who were awaiting to go into delivery/surgery rooms or who had just had their babies.  I was stripped down to a hospital gown and the nurse took my blood pressure and inserted my IV drip. 

 Everything was seamless at that point, until we met our anaesthesiologist.  She was a wiry, hyper woman who had a nervous energy that did not put me at ease.  She seemed more freaked out about the surgery than I was.  She insisted on trying to remove my ring from my swollen sausage finger for about 5 minutes, even though I explained that I had spent the better part of a week trying to remove the ring with no success.  Once she was done attacking my finger with her little squirrely paws, she gave up and put surgical tape over the ring while she warned me, "The surgical equipment may make this ring burn your hand." and then left.

About an hour later I was called into the operating room to get my epidural while Chris waited in the dorm and changed into his scrubs.  The operating room was big and bright and looked like a giant, insanely sanitary bathroom.  It was also incredibly cold.  I was ordered to sit on a large metal bench for my epidural. They took my blood pressure again.  "Your blood pressure is going up.  Do you know why that is?" the anaesthesiologist asked me as if I was willing it to rise. "Nervous about surgery?" I suggested.  She then called my surgeon saying that she wanted to delay my surgery until we could get blood work done to ensure that I was okay to have an epidural.  From my metal perch I could hear my surgeon insisting that I was okay and that she had run blood pressure tests just a few days before for that very reason. 

The anaesthesiologist refused to give me an epidural and told me that if my blood work came out too high they would have to knock me out for surgery - meaning I would not be awake to meet Molly and Jack.  I was both terrified and livid at the same time - this woman was messing with my birth plan.  They took my blood and then sent me back to the pre-postnatal dorm room.  My surgeon went home to walk her dog while we waited.

My results came back within half an hour as completely normal.  I was both relieved and furious about the overly nervous anaesthesiologist.  It didn't help matters that I was hangry****, cold and had to routinely use a public washroom complete with stall while in a thin cotton hospital gown and dragging around my IV drip like it was Linus's security blanket.

In the mean-time three other women came into the hospital in labour, rendering my operating room  occupied.  So Chris and I sat, in near silence watching Beavis and Butthead and Jackass on the dorm's TV*****, as we heard three other women deliver their babies, all before me.

We were finally given a 7PM surgery time, so Chris called the grandparents to give them an update while I, once again, returned to the operating room...


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*Beyond someone waving a magic wand to remove the babies from my uterus.
**Oddly enough my pre-surgery meal is the same one that Ted Bundy ate prior to his execution, AKA the "traditional" last meal - http://www.petapixel.com/2012/12/06/the-last-meals-requested-by-death-row-inmates-before-their-executions/
***Four of us in one room was bad enough without adding other parent(s) and newborn(s) into the equation.
****Combination of hungry and angry.
*****I don't know why the hospital was playing late 1990's programming, but not even Johnny Knoxville getting punched in the crotch could make me laugh that afternoon.