You Weren't So Much Born, You Were Surgically Removed, Like a Tumor

When I was a teenager, as many teenage girls do, I talked with my friends about what my idea of an ideal birth would be. I always joked that for me the ideal birth was to be drugged to high heaven and then wake up a few hours later and have a baby. No pain, no trauma, just a smiling happy new bundle of joy.

I had some really weird opinions as a teenager, like, the thought of actually being pregnant really weirded me out. "You mean there is a living thing inside of me, growing, eating my nutrients?" Luckily I had grown out of that mind set somewhere during college. (Although I did still joke about the ideal birth.)

During my pregnancy I didn't really have a birth plan. I just kind of decided to just go with it. Don't get me wrong, I did do research and it wasn't like I didn't care, but from my research it became very apparent to me that nothing can be set in stone, especially in the case of child birth.

I did have some preferences, I knew that I wanted an epidural, because really, if medical advances have come far enough to provide something that will lessen, or even take away, the pain of pushing something roughly melon sized from between your legs. Then why wouldn't you want to use it?

I also knew I wanted to be surrounded by loved ones, I was kind of  pissed when I found out the hospital only allowed me to have five people in the room. (Luckily we did find a way around it and the six people I wanted to be there were.)

I really didn't even have that much of a preference about whether I wanted a C-section or a typical vaginal delivery. It's not really that I didn't care either way, it's just I wanted what was best for the baby and I knew that in different circumstances different things are necessary.

There was part of me that really wanted a vaginal birth, you know like in the movies, with the pushing and people cheering you on and then they hand you the baby, and you feel all accomplished and what not. But, that preference was mostly because I read a scientific article that was tacked up to a bulletin board out side of a professors office that talked about how c-section babies are more likely to have asthma because they aren't exposed to some bacteria in the vaginal canal. (Is it weird that was my main reason?)

I never really thought of child birth as magical, wonderful, beautiful, or any of the other adjectives that people generally attach to it. It was the gross, slimy, painful, necessary transition from baby being inside to baby being outside. The concept of it is magical, amazing, and frankly blows my mind that this all happened in my body, but in practice... its pretty gross and weird.

Any way moving on. I really didn't have a plan for Little Mango's birth. For a while the Doctor was pretty sure she was breeched. So, I really prepared myself mentally for a c-section. I read everything I could get my hands on about it. About a week before the due date we got an ultra sound done and discovered that she was no longer breeched. Then the waiting game started. Let me tell you, we sure did wait, we waited, and waited, and then there was some more waiting.

I had just kinda assumed that the Mango would be early, because that was the trend with most babies in my family. I was about six weeks early, so in my mind, she would at least be a few days early. But, no, apparently she was very comfortable in there. By my due date she still really hadn't even dropped. All though my pregnancy she was a very lazy baby, she wasn't much for moving, sometimes that would terrify me. There would be hours that I wouldn't feel her move at all and I wouldn't be able the think about anything else until I felt her kick or adjust. I guess being that she was comfy and lazy, the idea of coming out just didn't occur to her.

So I was scheduled to be induced a week and a day after her due date, and let me tell you I was ready to be done being pregnant. I am pretty sure the last couple of weeks I rolled everywhere instead of walking because I was all belly. There was just absolutely no more room for me to get any bigger.

Hoping to move things along I tried every trick in the book, fresh pineapple, spicy food, pressure point massage, walking like crazy, willing the baby out, you know things like that. Someone suggested that I jump on the bed, but I decided against that one because I was quite top heavy and had balance issues to begin with (saying I'm clumsy, is a bit of an understatement). But, alas, nothing worked.

I think waiting the week to be induced was quite possibly one of the longest weeks of my life. They wouldn't let me work anymore so I was basically just sitting around twiddling my thumbs and waiting to pop. Every day just felt longer and longer. Finally it was the day to go in, unfortunately I didn't need to go in until 8 that night. That day just dragged, the Giant and I ended up leaving about two hours early. We stopped at Qdoba for my "last meal," because everyone had told us to eat something filling because it was going to be a long time before I would be allowed to eat again.

We checked into the hospital after a bit of a wild goose chase. My OB had reserved us a room, but apparently no one knew where that was or what floor it was on. Finally we got to the room and started to get settled. I got to put on the awful gown I was going to have to wear for the next 32 hours, and the Giant and I settled into the room and texted everyone to inform them that we were there.

Then the nurse came in and hooked me up to all kinds of monitors and fun things that beeped. She said that I was already having contractions but there was nothing that I could feel. It was really fun to be able to hear the Mango's heart beat in the room with us all night. They told us to sleep but with the beeping and the being hooked up to things and the being massively pregnant and uncomfortable that really didn't happen. We did, however, watch Family Guy and rest in a dark room that people kept coming in and out of.

At about 4:30 in the morning a nurse came in and gave me a pill that was supposed to help me start to dilate. Then at about 7 am my OB came in to check on things. I had started dilating! So they were actually going to start the induction.

This is me all hooked up to the equipment. 

At about 10ish (I think, a lot of this day is a blur) family and friends started to show up. The Giant and his mother are both certified massage therapists (I know, I'm super lucky, right?), and they both took turns rubbing my back while I had contractions. We basically just hung out there for hours, waiting for something to happen. Other than getting sick from the medication, or a headache, or something, nothing happened. (It's weird that I never really had morning sickness, but I was crazy nauseous right before and after having the baby. I'm a little backwards like that.)

The contractions kept getting stronger and stronger, (I did ask for an epidural pretty much right when I could get one.) but, Little Mango just did not want to come out. She didn't drop down, I didn't really dilate, never felt a urge to push. They manually broke my water, but that didn't help anything progress. Little Mango was perfectly happy to stay right were she was. There was no more room in there for her, but that didn't seem to bother her at all.

When it was nearing 10 hours of induction my OB came in and informed me that I was probably going to need a C-section. My water had broken and it would be dangerous for both the baby and me if nothing were to happen soon.

At this point I was tired (Ten hours of contractions, little sleep the night before and a headache, which under normal circumstances takes a lot out of me.) I was hormonal (both my own hormones and synthetic ones) and  very emotional. I'm pretty sure at that point the OB could have come in and commented on the weather and I would have started crying, so with that news I teared up pretty quickly.

Seeing my distress The Giant kicked everyone out of the room, so we could be alone. My man is probably the best guy in the whole world, and even though he didn't know what was going through my head (to be fair I didn't either) he still said exactly what I needed to hear.

After hours of basically nothing happening the sudden rush of action seemed unreal. Family and friends were left behind to gather our things together, The Giant was given some scrubs and told to suit up while I was moved to a gurney.

The Giant Looks So Good in Scrubs.

We got down to the operating room and they started to prep me. The anesthesiologist came in and told me what he was doing was going to numb me from the abdomen down, but I would stay alert. This is the last thing I remember before I passed out.

I hazily came to and The Giant was holding a baby, I noted that was nice and then fell back to sleep. Then I started to wake up again. I remember there being a huge internal struggle because I wanted my baby, I wanted to see her, hold her, cuddle her, I mean BABY!!!! But, sleeping was really nice and I kinda wanted that too...

In the end wanting to meet my Little Mango won out. (Although I was pretty pissed that they had the curtain up and they were still finishing the surgery so I couldn't hold her.) I'm pretty sure I asked the Giant some weird questions, like is that ours? But, I don't remember.

In later conversations the Giant informed me that Mango's eyes were open and alert right away, they opened me up and she was looking at them. They took her out, declared her healthy, toweled her off, and handed her to The Giant. Where she proceeded to scream (I'm pretty sure it's because she was cold, Mango hates being cold.)

After they were done with whatever it was they were doing down there, I got wheeled into a recovery room. Then, finally, I got to hold the Little Mango.

The Giant Quickly Took Pictures to Show to Eagerly Waiting Friends and Family.

At 8lbs 15oz The Mango was by no Means a Tiny Baby

After that it was a blur of recovery. We were wheeled into a room where we would spend the rest of our stay. That's where everyone was waiting for us. Our little bundle got passed around and everyone was instantly in love.

After a while everyone started to trickle out and it was just me the Giant and the brand new baby. The first night went fine because I was so in awe of her. I just stared at her the whole time.

But then the Giant started to get sick, and the baby was crying, and my legs were still numb and I was tied down so there was nothing that I could do, and I was tired, and I couldn't quite reach the Baby's bassinet, and she was screaming, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do even if I could get to her, and the Giant was in another room, and I couldn't move, and I started crying out of frustration (like really crying, sobbing so I couldn't breath, I'm a little embarrassed about this.) This was the moment that my OB came in to check on how I was healing.

He was visibly taken aback by me, I think its because he had always commented on how calm both me and the Giant are all the time. He asked me what was wrong and I couldn't speak. But I managed to get something about not being able to feed her out. That wasn't what I was upset about it was more because I felt completely useless and really didn't know what to do, and my support person was sick. The OB told me not to feel bad about that it and things would work out then he left. After that a nurse came in and told me I was aloud to eat again. That made me feel a lot better.

Also holding my sweet new baby made me feel better too.

 After that was a few more day in the hospital, then both me and The Little Mango were ready to leave.

The Little Mango's First Car Ride

The rest we shall save for another day.