Yeah, my OB didn't much care for my sense of humor that early in the morning either. Well, it's not like I planned on my water breaking at 3 am. Or on 2 hours of hall pacing and still no significant action.
Apparently, my uterus is such a comfy place it takes an eviction, swat team style, to get the babies out of there.
But still, I was unconcerned. After all, my reputation proceeded me and the whole floor was prepared for my arrival. I suppose that's the closest I'll ever get to feeling like a celebrity. They totally rolled out the red carpet.....or were just afraid of the liability - whatever, I totally felt like Angelina Jolie.
"I got this," I thought. Surely, it couldn't be worse than 22 hours of hard labor and 3.5 of pushing - with a couple of "codes" thrown in for fun. Besides, we had A PLAN.
I should have known better. Especially, since I'm a Wing It Wendy*, when it comes to anything other than work (with work, I'm totally type A). So, since the clock was ticking, it went something like this:
No contractions = lots of pitocin = epidural = problems for Amber = emergency C-Section
I heard The Firefighter start to protest because he knew I didn't want a c -section, but they made it short and to the point. "We can't help her until the baby's out." He didn't make another peep - poor guy, I truly wouldn't have wanted to be in his shoes.
Next, the OB attempted to ask me about a tubal - like I was in a condition to answer....but the anesthesiologist answered for me. "No time," then looking at The Firefighter he said, "Do you love your wife? Then get a vasectomy. It's no big deal for you, I promise - I've had one, but another baby could be very bad for her." Guess, I won't be giving Michelle Duggar a run for her money. Damn you, uterus, I wanted a reality show too - NOT!
Honestly though, that pissed me off. I sure as hell wasn't planning on dying right then and there, and how dare they worry my Boo like that. It was also frustrating, because I couldn't say anything to comfort him.
However, this entire transaction took less than 5 minutes. Then, I was excitedly whisked down the hall to the OR. By excited, I mean scared shitless - 'cuz this was gonna hurt like a _____ (Fill in with your favorite expletive) without anesthesia. The anesthesiologist was hurriedly trying to get a glorified Novocaine to work in time. I wasn't the only scared party in that OR either. By the Doctors' faces, I could tell this was so far out of the ordinary, that they didn't know what to do or expect....not exactly comforting, if ya know what I mean.
As it turns out, The Bun's head was too big to engage into the birth canal, and she was shoved up so far under my ribs, transverse, that she never would have made it out any other way. Like I said, my uterus must be the bomb diggity, 'cuz The Bun wasn't leaving.
Recovery room memories are somewhat more interesting. After copious amounts of Valium (the only thing they had yet decided I could be given), I began to slide in and out of consciousness and have the craziest dreams. Like ones where The Bun chews her way out of the womb, has sparkly skin and speaks to me in a perfect British accent ( Hullo, Mum!). I guess rereading Breaking Dawn, wasn't the best pre-labor idea.
Other times, the ceiling tiles talked to me....yeah, it was too weird for me, even doped up. I kept trying to ignore them, but they were persistent little buggers. It was all good until I started talking back. LOL - my poor Boo, what he must have thought.
I have to give props to The Firefighter. He handled it all like a pro. He was everything I needed him to be and more. Thank you! I love you more than life itself, Boo!
So, here we are, two weeks later, and everyone is healthy, healing, happy and heading in the right direction. But as a friend once said, "It wouldn't be you, if you didn't have a story." So there you have it Ladies and Gentlemen, the story of The Bun's arrival.
* no offense to the Wendys of the world.