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08/28/2008
Voyage to the bottom of the C
Look, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but sweetbreads are neither sweet nor bread. While I normally despise evasive phrasing — this might sting a little... — preferring instead the plainest of speaking — ...as if you were being swarmed by a cloud of pissed-off bionic megawasps whose sacred nest you have just defiled — in this case I understand it. After all, many find sweetbreads either delicious or useful, gourmands and calves respectively, but the minute you start calling it what it is, well, I mean, how appetizing does baby cow thymus really sound? I'll tell you: it doesn't sound appetizing at all. It sounds glandular. And that goes double for animal fries.
All this is by way of advising you that when you are lying in your hospital bed a few hours after a C-section, minding your own business, fondling your own baby, blamelessly saturating a maxi-pad, and a cheerful nurse comes in and says it's time for some massage, don't get too excited. Oh, it may sound nice, but know her offer for the treachery that it is. There will be no warmed river stones or aromatherapy oils, and the only Vichy shower you can look forward to is what happens when your Foley catheter comes loose.
There will be, instead, a great and mighty palpating, an excruciating assault that will leave you breathless as the nurse tries to ascertain the position of your uterus. That uterus, of course, has been distended by pregnancy for quite some time. It has also recently suffered not only the insult of an incision but the unceremonious yanking asunder that has allowed your doctor to wrest from its confines a very young human being. You'd think it had earned a rest. But no: now it is time for it to shrivel meekly on back to its former modest dimensions by way of continuing contractions. And if it won't go quietly, the entire nursing team will have a thing or two to say about it.
Over the next few days, at least once a shift I would find myself subjected to this workmanlike handling. It was worst when a nurse had some doubt as to where my lovable trickster of a womb had gotten off to. "It's right where I left it," I'd protest, feinting back and forth as I tried to fend her off with my rolling tray table, but she would not be deterred, and would instead go get a colleague with an even firmer touch. (Once two nurses couldn't agree, so they called in a third for the tiebreaker. Didn't do much for my uterus, but it sure scared my duodenum straight.) Why they couldn't do this sadistic pummeling half an hour after my scheduled Percocet, I'm sure I don't fucking know. But those so-called massages were the most painful part of Ben's birth, so I do know I got off easy.
Not the scariest part, though. The whole affair was remarkably low key overall. At the appointed time I walked into the operating room and mounted the table on my own. Once I was connected to lead after lead for monitoring, I was introduced to the anesthesiologist, who didn't even crack a smile when I told him, "I'd like to try some of that newfangled twilight sleep I'm hearing so much about." Not only did he not smile, in fact, he looked more than a little alarmed, turning to my OB and stammering a bit. "I'm kidding," I told him cheerfully. "Don't worry. I brought my own chloroform."
So I think he probably spent the rest of the time I was in the OR getting his revenge. First I sat up for the local, leaning against a gowned nurse who was bracing herself in a matter most concerning. "This will sting a bit," the anesthesiologist advised. "Thanks," I said, glad to have some warning, figuring I'd manage the pain the way I always do: close eyes, relax, and think placid thoughts like HOLY CHRIST DOES THIS SHIT HURT. But "Don't thank me yet," he said with alarming relish. It had to have been revenge, unless the humorless bastard simply "forgot" to mention the squadron of hornets that immediately descended and started working the bejesus out of my lower back.
After the local took effect, someone else did something else with something else to my lower back; thanks to the wasps I couldn't feel a thing so I couldn't really tell you exactly what went down. I was then arranged on the narrow table in a penitent-thief-on-the-cross position, arms outstretched, while other people did other things: the anesthesiologist scraped various parts of my body to see how well the anesthesia had taken effect; a nurse erected a paper barrier between my chin and the rest of me; and I looked up at a strange plastic sack of royal blue fluid depending from my IV stand. "What's in the bag?" I asked the nearest UPiG (unidentifiable person in gown). "Wiper fluid?"
"Windex," she answered. "Or dye to help us ascertain the placement of your bladder and whether we've nicked it during surgery. One of those, I forget."
"Starts to work before you start to wipe," I agreed, and then we were in the thick of things. I started to feel very strange, and told the anesthesiologist so. "My shoulders feel weird," I told him, unable first to describe the feeling, and then to say much more than that as my blood pressure dipped. Professional that he was, he immediately abandoned all plans for vengeance and asked a long series of questions that culminated in the delivery of a helpful little hit of ephedrine. Then my lower belly was swabbed and shaved, or so I was told. My OB crossed over behind the paper barrier. A blue-clad Paul entered the OR and sat by my head. And I lay on the table feeling the unnerving sensation of someone doing something to somewhere, which is about as specific as it gets when you've had a spinal block.
Now here is where I say that I think every woman should have the right to a surgical birth if that's what she desires. I could wish that more women were better informed about the risks of same, and I could wish that doctors in general steered their patients away from wholly elective procedures, but that is unnecessary editorialization on my main point. My main point is this: a C-section is surgery, major abdominal surgery. Someone is going to cut your body open. And while it is a routine procedure that carries relatively little risk as far as surgery goes, it was, for me, a terrifying, unpleasant business, one that left me panicked, sweaty, and crying before and after hearing our baby's first angry squawks.
The fear kicked in the second time my blood pressure dipped. The monitor screen was right near my head, so as soon as I started feeling strange I turned to watch it, ready to alert the anesthesiologist if I thought he was too busy composing an eloquent anti-Julie manifesto to keep close tabs on what was happening with my body. Down, down, down, until it was at something like, oh, I don't know, 40/3. (I exaggerate for dramatic effect, and because I cannot remember what it actually was, but trust me: it didn't feel a single point over 50/10.) "Help," I whispered to Paul, unable to say anything more. He didn't hear me. I tried again, louder. "I need HELP," I croaked, terribly frightened.
Paul got the anesthesiologist's attention just as the monitor alarm began to go off. With another dose of ephedrine my blood pressure began to climb again. And I know I was in good hands, and that I was in no real danger, and that hypotension during spinal anesthesia is a relatively common occurrence, easily managed. But it scared me, made me think of that consent form I'd signed, and how stupid I'd feel if I were actually among the minuscule percentage of people who died on the table during a completely routine procedure. (Okay, if I were dead, I guess I wouldn't feel too stupid. Note to self: Make will. Bequeath stupid feeling to heirs and assigns.)
So that was the terrifying. And here is the unpleasant: seeing the blood splattering against the paper barrier, like driving through a giant puddle, splashing the mud up onto the windshield, only more...amniotic. (It didn't help that at least two people on the other side of the drape exclaimed, "Whoa!") Experiencing no pain, but still feeling things done to my body with an upsetting amount of force, pushing, pulling, and twisting, for what felt like a very long time. Wanting to urge them to hurry, hurry, to get me off the table and out of the room as they leisurely closed my incision. Thinking, I wonder if it's too late to choose an unattended waterbirth at home.
But beside all that was the baby, snorting and squalling, big and pink and slippery and ours. He was hastily wiped and shown to me; Paul followed him across the room while he was weighed, cleaned, and stuck, alas, in the heel. I lay on the table and cried while some more people did some more things to some bleeding parts of my midsection. (Lest you think I'd been completely blindsided by the resident's postpartum query, my own doctor was the first to broach the subject of contraception, leaning over the drape to ask me, "Are we doing a tubal while we're in here?" Gosh, I don't know, Doctor; did I consent to one?)
But: the baby. He was not out of Paul's sight for a moment, which meant I lay alone on the table while the doctors finished up. So it was a nurse who came over and asked me if I wanted to hold the baby, who'd not yet been named. And because I was so goddamned woozy, still scared and still strapped down, I had to tell her, "I don't think I can right now."
And that's the kind of thing that could make you sad for years. I don't have any regrets. I haven't second guessed our decision to opt for a C-section. And we had the best possible outcome, an uncomplicated delivery of a perfectly healthy baby. If I missed a few moments at the very start of Ben's life, I'm comforted by the certainty that it is better to have done that than to have risked him in any more serious way. So I am not sad. But I sure see how someone could be.
My only regret, in fact, is that I didn't milk it nearly enough. My recovery from the surgery was faster and easier than I'd ever have predicted. I went home on day 4 postpartum feeling very little discomfort thanks to a steady diet of Percs and ibuprofen, and was immediately climbing stairs, sitting at the table for meals, and letting an exuberant Charlie knee me square in the belly in his enthusiasm to get close. I was tired and prone to an unattractive Quasimodo hunch, but those factors didn't prevent me from being up and around. They just turned me into a humpity bitch.
Part of my speedy recuperation was due to my great good fortune in having help. Paul was, as ever, present and fully engaged in every aspect of child care and housekeeping. And my mother had arrived the night before my surgery to assume the care and feeding of Charlie, who was beyond thrilled! that his grandmother had come! for a surprise visit! just to see him! (You know, sometimes little kids are kind of dumb.)
But there was more to it than that. Because of my aunt's return to the hospital, I knew the day Ben was born that my mother would probably have to leave before the end of her planned two-week stay, so it was important to me that I return quickly to some semblance of normal activity. I might have been protectively curled over a weeping abdominal wound, but by God I would unload the dishwasher's silverware basket while I oozed.
And I did. By two weeks postpartum I was back in my pre-pregnancy clothes, hefting laundry baskets as if I were training for that contest — we call it the heavy schlepping contest. Oh, you know the one I mean, the one where a couple of guys situate their bodies inside a Volkswagen Beetle, poke their heads through the sunroof, and then lurch down a straightaway carrying the thing, like, in a race — and even, gasp, driving a car, an activity strictly prohibited according to my discharge instructions. Those instructions also said something I scornfully ignored about tub baths, which, since we do not have a gantry mounted in the bathroom, I'd missed most acutely during late pregnancy, and it's a good thing I didn't have Ben in November, because I'd swear there was even a clause denying me the vote. And Senator John McCain needs me!
A little as fucking if humor there, ladies and gentlemen.
At any rate, my mother did leave long before her original return date, so I'm not sorry I pushed myself back to productivity sooner. I do regret that the universe didn't allow me the opportunity for two solid weeks of lying on the sofa, holding the baby, and having someone else do all the heavy lifting around here, because, damn, what do they put in the engine compartments of those little German cars, anyway? Engines?
But as nice as a stretch of malingering might have been, it's been better to be back to normal, where normal entails fatigue, chaos, tasks left undone, e-mails left unanswered, a staggering lot of laundry, a baby with an elfin folded ear and a downy widow's peak, and Charlie who says to strangers, "Have you met our little Ben? He's my baby brother."
My heartfelt thanks to all of you for the kind things you said about my aunt and my last post.
Comments (106)
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Oh. My goodness. Your description of a C-section just made me desperately, desperately hope that I can go vaginally again with this second baby I am pregnant with right now. Oh. Dear.
But really, enjoy these early weeks and do try to take care of yourself. :)
My spinal block didn't work properly during my c-section and stopped working completely, oh, about when the babies were out and the syntocinon givens you that massive tetanic contraction designed to disencourage any uppity uterine habits in the direction of bleeding to death. Simultaneously, of course, I'm feeling stitches....
I'd blame the anaesthetist, but it's party my fault for tempting fate. ANy woman who has as much oedema as I had who lumbers up onto the table and gaily proclaims that she has an 'easy spine' for this sort of thing deserves what happens when it turns out you can sink a finger into the swelling without touching bone. You need a great big long spinal needle exploring at length to tell where the bones actually *are*.....Let alone the laughable instruction to hunch over with freaking twins still in your abdomen.
Suffice it to say that fentanyl and midazolam are great drugs.
J
The ab massage sounds absolutely dreadful! I've had 4 vaginal births and I hate that damn "massage" even then; it makes me woozy to think about having a painful incision and them still coming in to rub your poor belly! Believe me, if given the choice, it is definitely easier to go through the pain of a vaginal birth (and with a properly placed epidural, it isn't even THAT painful) and then you are pretty much done. I'm not anti-c-section...my mother should have had one when she delivered me...I weighed over 10 lbs. and tore her to shreds...a csection would've been preferable, but again, in a normal vaginal birth the recovery goes pretty quickly. Anyways, I'm glad the birth was a success and everything turned out well. :)
Yeah. The blue thing two inches from you face? Not so cute.
One of my bebes was in distress (twins)(and emergency c-sec) so when they showed me the first one, and "did I want to touch him?!?" I thought, drugged, Well at least there's another one and I didn't go through this shit for nothing....
And when I asked my husband if he had called my mother to tell her about the boys being born? He politely reminded me that my mother has been dead for 15 years, and, uhm, no he didn't call her. I *heart* drugs.
You are the cutest! And congrats! I've been reading you for years!
You described the wonders of a C section to a T. You left out the vomiting, though. Right after I said "I feel weird...please help" I followed it with "please help I'm going to be sick" When a tiny little basin was propped by my head. I couldn't breath because the baby was so high up the doc was pressing on my clavicle. He bitched about the size of A then, and at my 2 week follow up he was still bitching. "No one knew she was going to be 9 lbs...I can't believe that with all those ultrasounds no one knew she was going to be 9 lbs!" I guess with a C section, size does matter.
It was worth it though, because I did get the full 2 weeks of blissfully holding and breast feeding our little girl while my hubbie did all the lifting and childcare. When you have two toddlers, and one of them is the size of a 4 year old, this is important. C sections are most certainly major abdominal surgery, and when you've had a prior myomectomy and C section like I have , things just don't heal as nicely as you'd like them too. I don't get all those uterine massages, though. They didn't do that to me, not once, thank the gods for small favors!
Julie,
Thanks for the c-section description. It gave me happy thoughts about my own.
From floor cake to formula, you will always have my most positive and happiest wishes. Thanks for sharing this journey.
The 16 hours of natural labor and no progress and fetal distress were terrible. I just wanted to hold my baby.
My epidural and c-section = BEST THING EVER.
:)
That sounds terrifying.
I'm so grateful that you've shared all of this. I don't comment often but I've been reading for a few years and it makes me so genuinely, profoundly happy that Ben has joined your family.
I think that is the most meaningful description of a c-section I've ever read. I had a very different birth with my daughter (not unassisted, but a waterbirth at home) and I just have no understanding of what a medical birth is really like. Thanks for your account. Congratulations on a wonderful baby and a birth that was the right choice for your family.
I think that is the most meaningful description of a c-section I've ever read. I had a very different birth with my daughter (not unassisted, but a waterbirth at home) and I just have no understanding of what a medical birth is really like. Thanks for your account. Congratulations on a wonderful baby and a birth that was the right choice for your family.
I told my OB that I wanted to be unconscious if they had to do a C, because I read Brooke Shields' book.
I think you've just personally managed to take the number of elective C sections down a percentage point or two, too. Yikes.
I'm so happy that you all are doing well, though, and that there was as little drama as possible under the circumstances! Yay for boring, run of the mill, nothing to see here move along birth stories!! Yay for Charlie and Ben, and their awesome parents!
Amy @ http://prettybabies.blogspot.com
Your birth story rings SO many bells, remembering the birth of my third child, my first C-section, all the way down to my mother's early departure to be near her aunt, as her passing was imminent. The only differences are that 1) It was a VERY unplanned C-section, so I was kind of freaking out at the idea when it was thrust upon me, as surgery scares me to death, and 2) Not only did I insist on holding the baby, I was stupid enough to try to nurse him. On the operating table. God bless the nurse who whisked the baby away from the doctors and allowed me to try - she had to know it would be a totally useless, futile attempt, but she also knew that I had to give it a whirl for my own peace of mind. After all, it's what his brothers did immediately after birth, why shouldn't he have the chance?
I'm just thankful I didn't drop that child on his head.
Thanks for posting the details of Ben's birth. I'm thrilled for Charlie finally getting to introduce his new brother.
Aw, you missed the best part! That being your OB and his associate talking about BELIZE!! while you feel the spinal receeding. "Let me know when it gets to, say, mid-ribcage and we'll top you up." (twice, actually)
While your contraceptive options were broached, mine were laid bare: "There is no way in HELL you're ever having another baby. This is MESSED UP!" Righty then. "So anyway, we were kayaking around this cove, just off Glover's Reef..."
My C-section was scary too with the low blood pressure and the general anesthesia and the blood loss. I couldn't hold my boys till the next day. I am sad, but it's hard to be too sad when we were all alive at the end of it.
back in your prepregnancy clothes after 2 weeks? Oh. my. lord. I thought I was doing well at FOUR MONTHS!!!!
anyway, your C sounds a lot like mine - amazingly good writing there. But mine didn't make me sad, I was just happy the baby was out and mine. Enjoy your darling boys :)
I'm impressed at how fast you've bounced back. I didn't get to hold my second son for almost 24 hrs and wasn't even awake to hear his first cry because it was an emergent delivery and they couldn't get the spinal in. I still regret that a bit but am just happy he was ok.
Thanks for writing about this!
I had an emergency C-section just a few days after the birth of your beautiful baby boy... and it was terrifying. Not just because I was scared that my own little boy was in distress (the cord was wrapped around his neck) but because there were all these confusing, horrible things happening to me and around me, and I lost any sense of control. The uncontrollable shaking was my weirdest and most unexpected side effect.
My recovery has been relatively uneventful, and thanks to help has been manageable. And, of course, as everyone keeps reminding me, it is DEFINITELY all worth it -- my little boy (well, not so little... 9 lbs, 6 oz. at birth) is doing really well, and is the love of my life. But it really is major surgery.
A few days after I got home (6 days post partum), my dad stopped by to see his new grandson, and asked me in all seriousness, "so, you're not still hurting, are you?" Um, yeah.
Yeah, I didn't get any post-C-section-malingering in either, not even with a preemie. The suckitude of the hospital forced me out at 36 hours, major fight resulting with the in-laws being sent home instead of caring for the toddler, pumping, blah blah blah.
THAT is the greatest regret of my child-bearing experiences (the actual bearing of the children. Rearing is another story.)
Magnificent. I love the way you tell a story that makes me feel as if I am there. Beside you through every moment. I have followed you since the birth of Charlie and I love to listen to your stories. Again...I feel as if I am there...listening to an old friend. Congrats on that beautiful baby.
I love that Charlie introduces Ben.
I am so glad you all are well, despite the hard journey. I can't wait to hear the stories of how Ben and Charlie discover one another over the next year.
Be gentle with yourself even though you're already heaving around the laundry basket. Heaving it once or twice might not cause any damage, but you have to stop now and let others take up the slack.
My 2nd daughter was born 3 weeks ago, and a friend dropped by last weekend with my favorite gift thus far - a bottle of vanilla vodka. I thought of you when I opened it.
Give that baby a hug from all his friends in the computer.
Julie, your birth story is touching through its hilarity. I second Cathy - I love the way Charlie introduces Ben to the world! I'm anxiously looking forward to more tales of brotherly interaction!
I can so relate to having to bounce back quickly after a section. I have had 4 c-sections. After the first I had to be back to work in 2 weeks for financial reasons (waitressing) and after baby #2 I was back in my thursday night masters class at the university exactly 1 week PP. You do what you have to do! I did get 8 weeks off for babies #3 and #4. It was wonderful!
Wow, thanks for sharing your story. I feel you, when you say not having that first chance to hold him could make you sad. Although I actually got to hold Jacob after his (vaginal) birth, for about 30 seconds, he got 'grunty' and was taken away by the neonatal recessutation team. The next time I got to hold him was several days later, and it was weeks before I got to take him to bed, or anywhere else, which was all I pined for at that time. Not to mention the IV lines sensor wires. Of course, this was nothing compared to what many women experience with premies, but something I've struggled with.
Thank you for showing me you don't HAVE to be sad though - I'm now 25+ weeks pg, so I'm trying to envision a different experience with this pregnancy, labour and birth - your story really helps with that.
I'm very impressed with your story of adapting and getting back to (the new) normal too.
big hugs, and wishes for lots of rest,
Amanda Lynn
i don't think I should have read this.. no Iabsolutely know I shouldn't of read this lol.. my c-section is in 6 weeks
oh god
My story synopsis:
18 hours labor.
Dilated to 10.
Baby up to high because pelvis closed around him.
Baby not descending.
Baby in fetal distress.
Emergency C-section.
Blood pressure plummet (after being hospitalized for 2 wks with toxemia.)
Healthy 8 lb 5 oz baby boy delivered.
Best part? The post op nurse giving me a magazine to read in which the cover article was all about how studies show C-section babies don't bond with their moms as well as natural births.
PRICELESS!!!
PERFECT description! I was all cool calm and collected until that moment when - strapped down on the table and wide awake - I realized, "Huh. And now somebody is going to slice open my gut with a knife."
Every animal instinct in me told me to get up and run.
Which is, of course, why they strapped me down. And gave me more drugs.
Wow, you have just scared me to death! I think when it comes time to deliver my own children, I think reverse osmosis will be my personal birthing choice. My own mother had them move a mirror so that she could watch them perform the c section (she is a L&D nurse) I just know I could never do that. It is such a good thing that you know your body so well, and knew when to tell them that you felt funny. Congrats on Baby Ben, he is gorgeous!!!
I can honestly say that you're the first person to make me laugh while reading a vivid description of a c-section. Bravo!
Thanks for your honest and hilarious posts. You keeping writing, and I'll keeping reading. Best wishes to you all.
Mmm... 14 hours of natural labor after an induction, followed by an hour and a half of pushing, resulting in a perfectly normal vaginal birth of a six pound nine ounce baby girl who didn't even tear me a bit.
I am so. damn. lucky.
Agh, I remember that no one being able to hear me speak thing. It was so terrifying.
I had an emergency C-section. And it was perfect (for a C). 30 minutes in the OR, during which all I remember is some poking around, and then this tiny, crying baby, calming down immediately as he was placed in my arms. I swear he moved as if he was trying to crawl up towards the breast, commando style! I never felt fear or pain, before, or after the operation. I have an almost invisible scar.
If this reads like disgusting gloating, I am sorry. Infertility and loss have served me huge amounts of humble pie. All I am saying is every birth story is different, so girls who plan or have to have a C, should not be upset or make decisions based solely another persons's experience. This is Julie's story, her journey. And what an amazing journey it has been so far. Thank you for sharing,and all my best wishes for you, and your wonderful family.
I read your blog regularly and this is like several gold entries all in one. I have so many favourite parts "(Okay, if I were dead, I guess I wouldn't feel too stupid. Note to self: Make will. Bequeath stupid feeling to heirs and assigns.)" made me drop my tea in my lap.
I've never had kids (c-section or otherwise) and am at an age contemplating it (age 31, current partner reluctant) and while your story scared the bejebus out of me, it just makes me feel so astounded and proud of womankind in general and you in particular for what having children really is. I think it should be mandatory for kids to read their mother's birth stories when they become stroppy teenagers.
In retrospect, I too wonder why I didn't lie on my fainting couch for an entire month! Two weeks is just not enough. On my husband's first day back at work, I was jauntily doing laundry with the baby in a sling, and the next morning I awoke feeling like I had run a marathon, or more specifically a marathon had been run over me.
My c-section was really, really hard, despite being largely uncomplicated for an unplanned one, and I thank you for sharing such a vivid description. At one point I thought I was going to fly off the table when the second doctor got up my rib cage and put what felt like his full weight on them. Dislodging a baby or something like that. I wouldn't know, I was transfixed by staring at the reflection of my open belly in the ceiling fixture. And there was that disconcerting feeling of suffocating, which apparently is just an anesthesia thing.
In recovery, I almost passed out from the "fundal massage," i.e. punching you in an open wound. The spinal had worn off, and they had yet to slip me a mickey, and I couldn't even make a sound. Just eyes rolling back in my head. Everyone was oohing over the baby at the sidelines. My husband finally noticed and said "give her something, damn it." Then the nurse cheerfully announced to my visitors that I had just passed a clot the size of a softball (demonstrating size with hand).
I think the worst part was after everyone had cleared out of recovery to let me "rest," and I was rolling on some kind of i.v. meds, woozy, exhausted, yet unable to sleep. It felt like coming down from acid, if anyone has ever indulged. And I could hear the nurses outside, townie accents, voices like buzzsaws, discussing their weekend plans. "Oh, and we're gonna go to HAMPton Beach...." "....get some funnel CAAAAAKE."
Glad you are feeling so much better so soon!
Yes, a thousand times yes for telling people what a c section is really like and for understanding how someone could be sad about it. My son was breech and wouldn't turn, so that was how I got signed up for a c section. For me the complete loss of control -- being strapped down for christ's sake -- was terrifying. and i wasn't asked if i wanted to hold him, i got to see him briefly then he and my husband were gone and i was alone. and that was almost as terrifying as the lack of control. being left in the or to be sewn up and then left in recovery for more than an hour before i got to see anyone who loved me (or would love me) again.
it's three years later and my son is beautiful and i love him and i am so happy he is here and healthy, and please don't everyone scream at me for saying this, but it doesn't make up for my sadness at not having a natural birth, or my fear during the csection or my crippling loneliness in recovery. it just doesn't. so mostly i try to separate my son from his birth. it is just easier that way.
Spot on. I had 4 csections, and you perfectly described various aspects of each of them so clearly. I actually found that with the exception of the first, which was the hardest to recover from and the only emergent one, recovery was fairly easy and I was up and around within the two weeks for each of them. I think getting up and getting moving helps speed recovery. Just be careful with those volkswagons - the scar tissue is a little more fragile after multiple sections and more prone to tearing - just take my word for it, okay? Nothing out of the smartcar weight class?
I am so happy that your normal now includes things like a Charlie who says to strangers, "Have you met our little Ben? He's my baby brother." I feel kinda stupid tearing up reading that about a person I never have and never will meet. But that didn't stop me.
Wait, am I understanding this correctly? Women bleed vaginally after a c-section? It makes sense, but how did I get to be thirty-three years old and not know this? Just to be clear, I'm not an otherwise ignorant and oblivious person. I realize that I'm overreacting (after someone guts you, it hardly seems of greatest import where the resulting blood drains to), but this knowledge opens up all new vistas of horror as I finally get around to trying to have a baby.
Thank you for posting this, Julie.
Sections ARE major abdominal surgery, and in this day and age it seems like it is more seen by the general public like a routine dental cleaning than surgery. And then women are wondering why it is such a hard recovery afterwards. You've been cut open, AND you have a newborn to take care of (not to mention any other kids). Or if there is a complication, they are dumbfounded. Yes people, complications still can occur even with something routine like a section!
That being said, there are plenty of reasons to HAVE a section rather than a vaginal delivery. And Jules- the next one, you can be relieved to know that there will be no asking of you what you would rather have. Two priors = 3rd being a section, period. So no guilt on that one, ok? I have posted before that I am not a fan of VBACs, for my own reasons, but even my own opinion doesn't matter for #3.
Even with the pressure issues and the splattering... I'm glad it all turned out beautifully in the end. He's a doll. And if you are fitting into your old clothes already... what are you, a model??
I have had 3 sections myself (not to mention the countless I have participated in as an L&D nurse). My first 2, I hemorrhaged. The first, well my body bled so well I splattered the 10 foot OR ceiling! All of them were anesthesia nightmares thanks some cardiac issues I have. The second (after years of secondary infertility), my pressure bottomed out and I abrupted. Oh and then 10 days post op my incision ruptured thanks to the softball sized blood clot I was harboring in my belly. OK, more like burst open with the force of a crimson Niagra Falls while I innocently stood in my kitchen feeding my dogs. But I hobbled up to the NICU, every day, gaping incision and all. Thankfully the only residual issue left from that nightmare birth is my now 2 yr old still wheezes (pretty fantastic considering how long he was in the NICU and how he was on oxygen even longer). Scary stuff. My last one, well, other than anesthesia issues again, he was perfect and screaming his head off. And then, after going home on day 3, having my in laws for another 2 days, hubby went back to work, and I was on my own with a newborn, a 13 month old, and my older daughter, with a resting heart rate of 120, feeling like I continually just finished a marathon. Good times, good times. But to be expected considering I am an OB nurse, Murphy's Law and all.
The fundal massage... yes massage is a VERY deceiving word!! I don't even say that. I say "I have to mash on your belly again." There's no confusion then. There's no "Oh, a massage? How lovely!" But hey, at least you didn't get the puking or the desire to scratch off all of your skin after a spinal that so many woman have. It's not pretty most of the time. But then, on the vaginal delivery side... there are the lovely issues of 4th degree lacerations, perinuems swelled to the size of birthday balloons that make it impossible to sit down, hemorrhoids the size of satellites. It's hard to have a baby and come out unscathed, no matter which way he or she makes their entrance. A few lucky women do have glorious labors, push twice and have a baby that resembles a cherub, all the while not a hair on mom is out of place. She recovers in minutes and goes home 6 hours later in her pre-pregnancy size 3 jeans. But believe me, Julie, in 11 years of doing this, I have seen that woman only twice. It just doesn't go that way for the majority of us. That is popular culture, yet again putting unrealistic expectations in our brain of how we *should* be able to have a baby. And it's ridiculous.
But in the end all that matters is this:
A mother is still a mother. A baby is still a baby. It doesn't matter if it comes out through your vagina, through your abdomen, or through your nose. The end result is the same!
Congratulations again. Enjoy those little boys. It seems like you blink and they are off to college!
I love how you perfectly capture the doctors and nurses. Just perfect. I think you confused your anasthesiologist by saying something off-script.
I had the blood-pressure drop after my epidural, and found it equally frightening. Especially when the anasthesiologist started yelling at the nurse because there was no ephedrine on hand. And it was some ridiculous number like 30/10. I just remember the sudden, peaceful feeling coming over me like well, if I die, I guess that's okay. I'm certain that is never a good sign.
Thank you Julie for this. After my crash c-section and subsequent bad bad bad recovery it drives me crazy to read descriptions of c-sections that minimize the problems.
Sections are major surgery and there is no way of knowing how any of us will recover until we are in the middle of it. I can barely walk, am in incredible pain still, and yes I took all the painkillers, etc. If I didn't have help around the house there would be no-one to hold him because I still can't lift him. My OB says this is quite normal!
The worst part of the section itself? He was taken away to the NICU to be resuscitated and I was in a panicked terror when I woke up convinced he was dead because I couldn't see him myself or hold him or feed him.
I'm glad I didn't get the uterine searching you did though. They just poked at it a little and backed off when I screamed. Then again--I've blocked out most of what happened in the OR. More PTSD I guess. Sigh...I needed that section to save my life and his life, no question, but holy hell, they just have to invent a better way to do it.
Did you ever see the Star Trek episode where they teleported the baby out of the uterus instead of c-sectioning? Damn, what a great idea!
To the commenter above who breast fed while being stitched up? Bravo! When babies aren't whisked away to a NICU, it is standard procedure at my hospital to get the babies to latch on right away in the OR or recovery. They assign a nurse to hold the baby in the right position and help the mom latch the kid on. If the mom can't hold the baby right away they make sure it happens as soon as possible and there is no nursery the kid gets taken to and so no separation.
Timely for me--I am scheduled in less than a month for my 3rd c-section. My first was a surprise (as in, we're not convinced you're in labor-->ultrasound-->Oh, breech baby-->Hello C-Section). The c-section itself wasn't so bad...sort of surreal, but I was relieved to have pain relief. Post-birth, I was ginger and tender and nervous. The nurses had to push me to get up, to walk, to do everything.
For the second, I tried labor. I don't think I mind the c-section in that part of the story as much as the feeling that I failed at labor (if I had a trial of labor and it didn't work...) The anesthesia was an epidural rather than the spinal the first time. I vomited. I felt weird. For the my first, the hospital had a policy that all c-section babies had to visit the NICU. So I recovered in peace, mostly sleepy. I don't remember missing the baby...I had seen her, my husband followed her up to the NICU. For the second, the (same) hospital didn't do the routine NICU trip. So the new baby was placed in my drowzy, anesthetized arms. I was glad to be with him, but talk about feeling incompetent. But I recovered really fast from c-section #2. Got up, moved around, all-in-all a good recovery.
For the third, I am going to a new hospital. The nurse on the tour suggested I call the first hospital to get more details on the epidural drugs if I rally want to insist on a spinal. I had just hoped that schedule c-section = spinal?
Even if I failed at labor both times...I think going in for a scheduled c-section will be too odd. Thanks for the view from the table.
I've always thought a csection would feel pretty scary, even without blood pressure issues, and your description had me white knuckling the mouse. I'm glad you're both ok and glad you took the time to write this.
I will say that I might have to smack the next person who tells me "at least you didn't have a c-section" when they find out about my son's birth. It sounds like I might have been better off. He's 7 months and it sounds like you're doing really well! Pass some of that my way. ;)
Right after my Ben's birth, my only help (my lovely mother-in-law) had to leave early due to the death and funeral of a beloved uncle who died the morning of my son's Bris. As my father-in-law said, "one out, one in." Crude but accurate.
I never had a c-section, but would I do it after reading this? Absolutely, if it meant a healthy baby at the end....Congratulations again!
Well, dammit. Now I am not looking forward to a scheduled c-sec, which I'll most likely have to have if I manage to get pregnant again through DE.
And, that last line about "he's my baby brother" yanked sudden tears out my eyes. At work. Meanie.
My experience with my c-section is almost the opposite of yours - the procedure itself wasn't bad and I even kept pestering my doctor with "what's happening NOW?" over and over... but the recovery? Sucked. And took forever.
I have to admit to a bit of jealousy regarding the pain meds you were given though: all they gave me was advil and tylenol after the operation and the pain was horrendous for days. Looking back I wish I'd demanded something stronger.
After my c-section, one of the nurses actually took my blood pressure (with an automated cuff) the same time she was "massaging" my uterus! "Oh, it's a little bit high..."
Great birth story! I hated being "out of it" when my daughter was born via c-section too. Not that you were, apparently.
Your post really resonated with me. I had my twins with a C-section because Baby A was blocking the exit with her bottom. It was a terrible experience. There were tons of people in the room (because of the multiples) and I seemed to be invisible. My anesthesiologist and my OBGYN (who I love) ribbed each other over who was better - Auburn or Alabama - the whole time. Tears streamed down my face as I wondered how I could be in so much pain if I had an epidural. When I finally got the doc's attention he said it must be referred pain. What? It was like a knife in my shoulder and collarbone. The books I had read said that you could ask the OBGYN to lower the drape as the babies were lifted out. They failed to mention that my normally amiable doc would say, "No," leaving me again thinking, "What?" My first twin out didn't cry and there were lots of nervous looks as they swept her to the bassinet without letting me see her. I didn't get to see the second twin either for that matter. Not until about 10 minutes later. They both were fine though. My epidural fell out in the night and we never got a handle on my pain. Since I had two children already I thought I could handle the twins with no problem. I foolishly never considered a baby nurse for more than 5 minutes. Instead I had two babies who never slept with unbelievable pain for 8 weeks. The minute I would lie down, I would have to get up again. And, man, that HURT!
After my experience I can't believe that people do this on purpose. If I am ever blessed enough to have another I will try for VBAC or ask them to put me under for it. No thanks to that again.
SO glad for your post.
- Katy
If you've ever wondered about those people who have alpacas, check out my blog. http://www.alpacafarmgirl.blogspot.com/
I'm so glad your recovery has gone as smoothly as you imply. That's so good.
It stinks that your mom couldn't stay longer. I hope she can return very soon.