< Part 3: The (Not) Gory Details

So there I was strapped to an operating table with my arms laid wide, a curtain across my chest, and a nurse at my head. I’m sure the nurse’s job was to make sure I didn’t pass out or die, but to me the most important thing she did was talk. She talked to me the whole time. I have no memory of what we talked about. I just knew as long as I talked I wouldn’t think about what was happening on the other side of the curtain. Normally in situations when my nerves are likely to overpower my sense of reason, I just hold my breath. (I didn’t say it was the smartest tactic.) But a C-section takes about 20 minutes. I needed a new plan, and talking to a complete stranger seemed just the ticket.

Roger says I seemed so calm through the whole thing, but I was holding on to my last shred of sanity. I knew if I let myself get scared even a little, I’d lose it. I’m not brave enough to power through something like that. So like a Southern lady sippin’ a mint julip on the veranda, I chit chatted my way through the ordeal. It worked.

Half way through the surgery, the doctor told Roger, “You gotta see this. It’s the most perfect head I’ve ever seen. You have to look.” Now let me explain something. On my way into the operating room, while Roger was elsewhere dressing up in scrubs, I told the doctors and nurses that Roger and I had no desire to watch the surgery, cut the cord, bury it under a tree, or eat the placenta. We’re not one-with-nature people. We “camp” in cabins with running water and a big screen to watch the football game. We don’t do “gory details.” Let’s not forget that I could barely handle watching other women go through labor.

But when a doctor who delivers hundreds of babies a year tells you he’s seeing the most perfect head he’s ever seen, you man up and look over the curtain. I’ll let Roger tell you the rest:

I had told the doctor I wasn’t up for watching the surgery/birth – I have a weak stomach, and I am quite aware of it. When he said “Hey dad, you have to see this,” I felt the need to listen, and I am very glad I did. I don’t know what I expected to see when I looked around to the other side of the divider – probably some blood, entrails, and a writhing bloody baby reminiscent of the diner scene in Aliens – but instead what I saw was something totally different. There was no blood that I noticed, only something that seems totally odd now, but was incredibly beautiful at the time. Down in my wife’s lower abdomen area was a perfectly shaped baby’s head sticking up seemingly out of her belly button. The doctor was slightly holding his head as he showed him off to me. Little William was only out up to the neck, the doctors and nurses had been cleaning out his nose and mouth before continuing, and were pausing to look him over before continuing. His head was perfectly shaped since he hadn’t had to pass through the birth canal, and his face was the most tiny and beautiful human face I’ve ever seen – perhaps ever will see. It was the first time I got to see his face. To see his first moments outside of the womb was amazing, and a sight I’ll never forget. I know I couldn’t have handled the surgery process itself, but I am very thankful the doctor encouraged me to see a once in a life time event, even if just for a few incredibly powerful and emotional seconds.

Finally William was starting his life on our side of my belly. While the nurses cleaned William up, Roger took cell phone pictures of him so I could see him too. I kept asking Roger if he looked OK. Did he look like he had Downs? And I realized I was scared – but no longer for me and Roger. I was scared for William. I wanted him to have a good life. In the presence of my newborn son, my focus finally shifted from me to him. And he was perfect. All the worrying was for nothing.

Then the nurses held him to me so I could see him and touch him. I’d waited so long to touch him. To see him. To hear him. And there he was – my perfect angel. I was ready right then to take him home forever. And that’s how Roger and I became parents.

No story is complete without pictures and a soundtrack, so here are ours. The song is Switchfoot’s “Your Love Is a Song.” It’s not a typical newborn baby song, but I think it reflects the emotions we had during this time. There were very bright highs and a few dark lows, but in the end we received more than we could have ever hoped for or imagined.

Now the real adventure begins.

But now…

< Part 2: The Waiting Game

They didn’t want me to go late, so on Friday the doctor gave us a choice on what day to be induced. Monday was Martin Luther King Day and a holiday for Roger, so we chose Sunday thinking we’d save as much of Roger’s two-week paternity leave as we could.

Sunday. We were ready. We’d watched Pregnancy for Dummies. We’d been to the birthing class where I’d managed to watch a video of a baby being born, after nearly passing out through the first two videos (no really, I had to leave the room and sit down before I fell down – just call me Super Mom). We’d been to the baby essentials class. We were sure we could keep any baby alive for at least a month. We’d survived Snowpocalypse 2011 (that is, being snowed in for a week with the constant fear that I’d go into labor). We were ready to be parents. We were ready to finally meet William.

Off to Northside Hospital. The plan was to give me Cervadil that night and Pitocin Monday morning, thinking contractions would start Monday morning and we’d have a baby some time Monday evening. My parents had decided to drive in from Alabama Sunday night instead of their previous plan to come Monday morning. There was no need to come Sunday night, we thought, since the fun wouldn’t start till Monday morning any way. Little did we know…

While Roger and I settled in at the hospital, his folks headed to Scalini’s to pick up eggplant parmesan for me. Scalini’s eggplant parmesan is well known for making most pregnant women go into labor. Women from all around go there to eat when they’ve had enough and are ready to have their baby. Of course, I didn’t really need Scalini’s, but I figured every little bit would help. I didn’t want to be in labor any longer than necessary!

I was nervous – that’s a given – but I was completely excited too. I was high on the thought that we’d become parents in the next 24 hours. In the moments we had to ourselves, before our parents arrived, before the nurses started their routines, in the quiet hospital room we prayed. And looking back now, we know God was with us through the night. We felt his hand on us as we waited for William to arrive. We felt a calm that can only come from him. And we were grateful.

The nurse came in to introduce herself and proceeded to try killing me, I mean put in an IV, before she finally called her colleague to handle the IV for her. Yikes. She was a great nurse though, IV terror aside. Next up was the Cervadil. It went right in as expected. Done for the night. Bring on the eggplant parmesan!

Instead, a few minutes later I lay in bed looking up at 5 nurses looking down at me anxiously and talking in hurried voices. One nurse told me to get on all fours so the baby could drop as low as possible while another nurse called the doctor. I think she forgot I was in a hospital gown that was 10 sizes too big for me. I slowly rolled over onto my hands and knees, trying to ignore the sides of my gown drooping to the bed, while nurses fluttered all around me. Drama anyone? Seriously, who ordered the side of drama? And do I feel a breeze on my naked butt?!? Which is currently in the air for all to see? MY PREGNANT NAKED BUTT?

I was scared. So was Roger. William’s heart rate plummeted when the Cervadil was put in, which (they told me later) sometimes happens with babies. Eventually I lay back down and they took the Cervadil out. No worries, they said. We’ll just let you do your thing tonight and we’ll start Pitocin in the morning.

But William had other ideas. According to the monitors, I started having contractions. They were still too small for me to feel, but every time I had one, William’s heart rate dropped severely. The nurses had me roll over on my side for a while, lay on my back a while, and on and on. Nothing seemed to appease William. It was time to call the doctor.

Meanwhile, both of our parents had arrived, but I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink. Eggplant parmesan aromas wafted my direction, taunting my empty stomach. And did I mention the garlic rolls? So unfair.

At 11:30 pm, the nurse told me instead of having a baby Monday evening, we were going to have a baby in about 30 minutes. I asked if I was having a C-section, as though there was a chance I’d be pushing the baby out myself in the next half hour. Hey, I was freaked out. I wasn’t thinking straight.

Next, the doctor came by to see what I thought about having a C-section. I don’t really remember this part, but Dad says I laughed and told him he was the doctor and he gets paid to make those decisions, so I was on board with whatever it was going to take to get William here safely.

But I was scared. Really scared. The only surgery I’d had up to that point was wisdom teeth removal. The funny thing is, they put you to sleep to pull out a few teeth, but you’re wide awake while they pull a baby out of your belly.

My biggest fear? That I’d hurl during the surgery, causing the doctor to screw up. I’d already hurled once before thanks to the epidural. The nurses assured me that it happens all the time, and it’s no big deal. I don’t think hurling during surgery was covered in the baby books I read. Oh wait, I didn’t read anything about C-sections. I could barely stomach the chapters on labor!

I didn’t hurl.

And I never ate my eggplant parmesan.

Part 4: And Then We Became Parents >

< Part 1: We’re Pregnant!

For the last few months of pregnancy, Roger and I had been seeing the doctor twice a week. When the doctor explained that I’d have to see them twice a week for several months, I immediately objected, “But I have a job!” To which the doctor replied, “You’re having a BABY.” Touche.

So why the twice a week dance? The doctors saw some troublesome factors on an early ultrasound, which led to ultrasounds every other week. It was not as awesome as it sounds (yay! seeing my baby all the time!), because they managed to find a new “soft factor” or “potential issue” or “it’s probably nothing but I’m gonna scare you to death anyway” quirk every time we went. For months Roger and I agonized over the possibility that William may have Down Syndrome and a skeletal problem similar to dwarfism.

I never wanted to bring it up at church for the prayer list or talk at great length with those outside my most inner circle, because I was embarrassed. I kept thinking that some how I had caused the problem, and I felt selfish because I didn’t want to deal with Down Syndrome. I hated myself for even having thoughts like that, and I hated that my excitement about a new baby was tempered by my fear. I think deep down I was afraid I couldn’t love my child if he had special needs, and that thought hurt me the most.

Then it got worse. The doctor suggested at one appointment that I may need to deliver that weekend, about 10 weeks early, to have a healthy baby. Roger and I took the news like adults, but I later broke down over lunch at Chic-Fil-A (in a booth over a chicken sandwich – oh brother). It was too much. First, I worried I couldn’t handle William’s needs, and now I was worried he wouldn’t live at all. This is why God sent me Roger. He reminded me it was OK (and normal!) to have those feelings and that I wasn’t alone. He knew William would be OK and that I would indeed love our child no matter what. He was always sure of that.

Fast forward to 39 weeks pregnant, over our final meal the night before heading to the hospital, and I still worried I wouldn’t love my baby. I know me. I’m fickle. I get all excited about a new project and after a few months I’m over it. What if William was born and I was suddenly over it? What if we didn’t bond? What if I didn’t cry at seeing him? What if I didn’t have the mom gene (not to be confused with mom jeans, of which I hope to never have)?

I soon learned how absurd those worries were.

Meanwhile, despite the drama at the doctor’s office and inside my own head, I handled pregnancy like a champ. I’d read about all the scary obnoxious things that can happen while you’re pregnant and continuously breathed a sigh of relief that I had very few of them. Fatigue set in around the start of the 2nd trimester, turning me from a Couch to 5K-er to a couch potato nearly overnight.

Morning sickness? More like ALL-DAY NAUSEA. But it only lasted through the first trimester, and I was never actually sick – just always feeling like I might be sick at any moment. This caused me to eat less, which unfortunately caused me to lose a little weight early on. Wheat Thins became my best friends (they settle any stomach), and salad was put on notice. Did you know that lettuce has a smell? IT…IS…DISGUSTING. Ahem.

Watermelon was soon put on notice too. Trying to be healthy and feed William nutritious snacks in the womb, I brought home a container of chopped watermelon. As soon as I opened it, my stomach declared war on my intestines. I promptly closed said container, trashed it, and alerted Roger that watermelon was not allowed within 50 feet of me. I eventually figured out the problem – I had super smell. It was like my pregnancy super power. Unfortunately, some foods (salad and watermelon) don’t smell so great when you have a bionic sniffer.

My last pregger-related symptom was cravings. I learned that it’s a myth that women crave weird foods like ice cream with pickles. Most women crave good foods, and ice cream is the most common craving. Well, shoot, I crave ice cream all the time any way, so I didn’t count that as a pregnancy nuance. In my third trimester I craved kid food – spaghetti Os and chocolate Pop Tarts specifically. One of my coworkers even offered to use her Costco membership to buy Pop Tarts in bulk for me. Since William arrived, I’ve not craved either. I see a lot of spaghetti Os and Pop Tarts in mine and Roger’s future, because that was all William.

Remember those pounds I lost in the first trimester? Kid food took care of that. I gained 30 pounds by the end of it. William was only 6 pounds, 5 ounces of that. Another 4 pounds of it was “other stuff I lost during delivery.” So that leaves me to work off 20 pounds. I blame the Pop Tarts.

Thank goodness my aunt bought me a jogging stroller!

Part 3: The (Not) Gory Details >

WILLIAM!

Now that William’s here, I want to update this website to reflect our new family addition. It may take a while since I’m busy with William most of the time, but it’ll get there soon enough. Stay tuned!

Houston we have a belly.

According to What To Expect, William is the size of an eggplant and my uterus is the size of a soccer ball. So I’ve been doing some shopping lately…

Open Letters to My Favorite Clothing Stores

…

Dear Gap,

I should have started my maternity work wear search with you. I’m sorry for doubting you for even a minute. Your black pants, though pricy, are the best thing I’ve bought for tackling meetings without feeling like my clothes shout, “Hey I’m pregnant!” Your casual clothes are cute too, and thank goodness for your sale rack. Because of you, I’ll look great at my friend’s wedding and I only spent $17 on the dress. Love, Rachel

…

Dear Old Navy,

You disappoint me.  Your prices are just right, and I love your casual clothes, but you are severely lacking on the work wear unless I want to shop online. Attention – women are pregnant only a few times in our lives and we have no idea what size our bellies will be. We need to try stuff on. Period. Please carry more stuff in your physical stores. Love, Rachel

…

Dear Target,

You are not one of my go-to places for clothes, but you have pleasantly surprised me. Your selection of non-dumpy maternity wear is outstanding! I should have bought stock in your company before making my purchase, because I think I spent enough to now own the West Cobb store. Love, Rachel

…

Dear Ann Taylor,

I find it wildly exciting that you carry maternity wear, but my fear that your pregger pants will cost $100 prevents me from gracing your doors. I’ll visit again once I’m back to my normal size. See you in 2011. Love, Rachel

…

Dear Banana Republic,

[crickets...] Hello? I need you please. Love, Rachel

Since I’ve started working at Home Depot, I’ve been bringing my lunch more often. It’s easier than trying to get out of the building - ride the elevator 14 floors, walk to the parking garage, climb two flights of stairs, wait in a line of cars to exit the garage (and repeat) – and it’s a lot healthier and cheaper. It’s also a great way to keep a stash of snacks handy for my new pregger diet.

Pre pregnancy, I ate like normal people – 3 meals a day and maybe a snack after dinner. OK, usually a snack after dinner. Now I eat more like 6 times a day! At first, it was to keep nausea at bay. Hunger is your worst enemy when you’re feeling sick already. Now I eat more often because I’m hungry more often. If I eat 6 meals though, I’ll have the pregnant look long after William is born!

So instead, I eat mini meals all day long. And that means coming up with good snacks and rediscovering some old favorites. I’ve heard that you’ll gravitate towards foods the baby likes, and so far William likes comfort foods from my childhood days – spaghetti Os, Snack Packs, and white cheddar Cheez-Its (so good they’re possibly God’s choice in crackers). But like a good mama, I also work in fruits, veggies, and whole wheat when I can. Honey Nut Cheerios is a great way to get some calcium and wheat (ooh pregger tip!).

And that’s another new thing. My pre-pregnancy 90 calorie breakfast bar no longer cuts it. If I eat one at home, I’m starving by the time I get to work 30 minutes later. So now I eat an actual bowl of cereal every morning. I haven’t done that since high school! I stick to Cheerios mostly, but Fruity Pebbles makes an occasional appearance too.

The number one thing I stick to? Water.

And more water.

With a side of water.

What’s the quickest way to pass out? Just don’t drink enough water. And I hate drinking water. I’m just not naturally thirsty all the time. I rarely drank anything before. Now I force myself to drink at least 64 ounces a day. It’s a small price to pay to ensure I don’t faint. Nothing like fainting to make a girl feel . . . well, wimpy.

But with all the new food requirements comes a few aversions too. Don’t come near me with watermelon or salad. These foods are the enemy. My stomach smells them or sees them and promptly attacks me. I’m getting better about salad actually, but watermelon is still on the black list.

I wonder if William will like watermelon. For now, I’ll blame him for the aversion.

So far, pregnancy has been going really well. I had some nausea during the first trimester, but thankfully it passed after several weeks. I feel great most of the time now.

I recently signed up for a prenatal yoga class and am loving it. I’ve never taken yoga before, so I was a little nervous about the first class. But the instructor is great and the class is full of both newbies like me and veterans.

Roger and I set up our baby registry last weekend. I never knew there were so many kinds of baby wipes. It was great having Roger with me, because I know without him I would have been so overwhelmed! Fortunately, we visited the store ahead of time to get an idea on prices for some of the larger items – strollers, high chairs, and such. We’ve been shopping consignment sales for gear, and we managed to find an awesome stroller (among other items).

We’ve also been figuring out how to decorate the nursery. This part is really fun. The internet is full of neat stuff for a baby’s room. Check out the crib set we bought. It was delivered to the house yesterday.

Several people have asked me to post belly pictures. Roger has been taking photos of me each week, but for the most part I look like a smiling idiot who thinks showing her belly is hilarious. This is starting to change now that my belly is growing more, but there’s still not much to see. Here’s the latest photo, from 21 weeks:

More baby updates to come!