(This is part five in a five part series detailing the birth of our son. You might want to start with part one.)
While many people choose to have a C-section for various reasons ranging from medical need to convenience, my wife wanted to tough it out and have our baby the “old fashioned way.” And by old fashioned, I mean breathing, grunting, pushing and writhing in pain for nearly 24 hours.
Meanwhile, entered and exited a number of hospital staffers who attempted to give her an epidural. I say attempt because apparently everyone who knew what the hell they were doing had taken the day off.
What ensued was a nightmarish daisy chain of people poking and prodding attempting to thread the needle into my wife’s spine while she was doubled over in pain. I knelt on the floor beneath her for support as she clutched my hands and shoulders VERY tightly.
I would have given anything at the time to switch places with her.
All the while, nurses made visits to see if my wife was dilated enough to begin the birthing process. They wanted her to give birth within 24 hours of her water breaking -after that, the odds of something going wrong increased, they warned. Time for a natural birth was quickly ticking away. If nothing happened soon, the doctor suggested that a C-section would be necessary.
The look on my wife’s face was of utter disappointment, as if she had somehow failed. She cried. I cried for her, though I hid it. Her mother and I, along with the doctor, tried to lift her spirits and congratulated her for battling for as long as she did. She suffered through the pain a whole hell of a lot longer than I would have!
She relented and said yes to the procedure.
I pulled the doctor aside and asked if she was in any danger from the C-section. He didn’t mince words, warning me, “Well, with any operation, there is always some danger, but it is a very routine procedure and things should be okay.”
Thanks, doc, that was re-assuring.
My mind flashed on all the horror stories I’d heard or read while new ones unfurled on the movie screen in my mind. As the doctor rolled my wife out of the room, fear began to choke me. Fear that something would go wrong with either her or our baby. I looked at her, told her I loved her, I think I kissed her – just in case.
Waiting is the hardest part
I was asked to stand outside the surgery room until they got her prepped. I was told it would be a few minutes, but time was stretching into infinity. Fear returned like a spurned lover, gnawing at me, whispering unsweet notions in my ear. What the hell was taking so long?
Something was wrong. God, please no. I found myself praying, though I am agnostic at best.
So, this is what parenthood is like? Lot’s of fear and feeling helpless.
Soon, the surgery room doors swung open and I was invited to sit down beside my wife’s head which was resting on a surgery table. Doctors, equipment and lights surrounded her as the show was about to being. The rest of her body was blocked off by a blue curtain. I was advised that I might not want to look behind the curtain.
Blogger Dad words of wisdom: When someone says not to look behind the curtain, don’t look behind the curtain.
I did. And saw in the mirror above the operating table as doctors were opening my wife up. You should never have to see your loved ones’ internal organs.
Suddenly, my wife began to say she felt pain. Whatever they had given her had worn off. Suddenly a doctor scrambled to inject more medicine into an IV.
She was so vulnerable there on the table and fear began to whisper again, it’s cold harsh warning of all the things that could go wrong. Suddenly a scene began to play out in my mind where my wife suddenly felt everything, started screaming and something horrible would happen to her or our baby. I prayed again.
Whatever they gave her seemed to work.
Soon, doctors were pulling my son out. I expected a cry but I didn’t hear one.
Fear chattered louder.
Then, nurses rushed him over to another area.
Fear again, “what’s wrong, why are they bringing him there?”
Then he cried.
A sigh of relief from me.
I was asked if I wanted to cut the cord. I declined. Let the pro’s handle it.
And now introducing…
My hear began to pound as the moment where I would first get a good look at my son was about to occur. Emotions flooded my system, I’m sure I was crying, though I was trying not to show it.
A smiling nurse brought my son to me. He was bundled in a blue wrap like a baby burrito.
I looked down at him and felt myself tearing up. “Hello,” I said.
He seemed to be looking back at me, though I’m not sure if he could see anything so soon. I held him up to show my wife, but she was out of it.
I was escorted out of the room while my wife was sewn back up and our baby was brought to the nursery. I would wait an hour before seeing him or my wife again.
My wife, her mother and I were waiting in the recovery room when a nurse peeked in and said that our son was ready to come into the room. I grabbed the camera and caught one of the most beautiful pictures I’ve ever taken. The first moment that my wife saw her child.
She melted, cried and smiled all at once, while making one of those “oh so cute” sounds she normally reserved for baby sneakers.
Though I’ve tried, a description can’t describe the joy in her expression with any justice. I would post the photo here, but she’d probably not approve (as she looked like she just had a kid or something), so you’ll have to take my word, it was a beautiful moment.
The first of many beautiful moments in our baby story.
Here’s a couple of photos from E’s first night in the hospital and one from when we got home.
I’d love to hear about your birth stories in the comments downstairs. Thank you to everyone who has shared your stories so far. I appreciate you joining me on this look back.
As always, thanks for reading.
Click below to continue reading Our Baby Story.
- Our baby story – Part One: “Surprise, I’m pregnant”
- Our baby story – Part Two : I’m not ready!
- Our baby story – part Three: Everything changes
- Our baby story – part Four: uh oh, my water broke
- Our baby story part Five: Hello, world
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Well told, that man!
There’s nothing quite like seeing mother lay eyes on baby for the first time, and next to impossible to describe.
When I was born fathers weren’t encouraged to be anywhere near the hospital, let alone the business end of proceedings.
Goose bumps is what I’ve got now.
Goose bumps are what I has.
Dave Fowlers last blog post..I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead
Aww BD, that was so lovely.
It’s so nice to hear a father’s perspective because everyone concentrates so much on the mother at this time.
I had both of my children ‘naturally’ but I tell you what, it didn’t feel very natural! I think it’s really sad when women feel they have someohow failed because they couldn’t have a natural birth or they couldn’t breast feed or they couldn’t bond, but you do whatever it takes to bring that precious thing into the world and it’s the way you handle it from then on in that counts.
Oh, and great to finally see you BD. I knew you were a big softie really!
Tara@From Dawn Till Rusks last blog post..The business of blogging: Dave’s story
You told that just beautifully. Like Dave, goosebumps I has too.
I was cringing for you and your wife – that was a miserable first experience.
CK_Lunchboxs last blog post..Kindergarten Hazmat Art
That was a very well told story. I was going through the emotions with you and almost teared up, here at work, thinking back to when I first laid eyes on my little ones, and even more so when my wife got to lay eyes on them. I am glad you are all doing well now.
Absolutely beautiful, Dave. Thanks for sharing something so real, and obviously raw. It was, I thought, one of your best posts ever. There is so much emotion in those moments just before the ones that conspire to make every one that follow different.
Mia came into the world screaming. We had elected to keep her sex a surprise, so the first time we knew she was a girl was when the doctor said, “You have a beautiful ballerina.” I approached her, and introduced myself. She wrapped all five of her tiny fingers around my pointer finger, and then stopped crying.
Thanks for the entire series, Dave, and for capping it off so well.
Writer Dads last blog post..At Least I Don’t Have Zits
This is where I am always reluctant to share my birthing stories: 3 hours labour for each of the girls, and a whopping 5 hours labour for my son…and that’s starting from zero because he had to be induced. PLEASE do not pass this along to your wife!
Urban Panthers last blog post..Jumping to the Island of Conclusions
When I was informed that I had to have the c-section, I argued. And argued. And argued. They were impatient – I’d only been in labor about twenty hours when they started pushing the idea. Another ten hours, and they had to bribe me. I did mention they lied??
I wept over the decision – I felt like an utter failure. They told me I was having negative labor. What? Oh, that’s when the baby stops descending and goes back in, and things that should be opening, instead close. Sigh. Contrary in so many ways, me. Seemed like the kid, even before he was out, was of the same cloth!
I knew it was the right decision, but I loathed it. The nurses decided to try and terrorize me into acquiescing to their need to hurry up and be done with it, so they started coming into my room every few minutes and reminding me of all the ways my baby would (not “could”, “would”) be deformed if I waited too long, he got stuck, labor didn’t progress.
Yeah, they didn’t reckon on me being a fairly well educated mule. I resisted, but in the end…well…I WAS hungry, my friends and family were exhausted, and I decided that I had done all I could, given the circumstances.
I liken a c-section to those shark movies, where you see the top half of the swimmer above the water and suddenly it’s jerked about and they look surprised. No pain, only the oddest tugging, pulling, and (I swear) a grunt or two from the doctor…because the Evil Genius was huge! Mum was in with me because T? Really doesn’t do surgeries.
She shot one of the best baby pictures I’ve ever seen. I call it “Yogurt Covered Baby” because they do kind of look like that when they first come out. Awesome.
They wouldn’t let me hold him or see him until they’d sewn up the rigging and I could lift my arse off the bed, wriggle my toes, and recite the Gettysburg Address. Demanding lot.
Then they wouldn’t let me see him because his blood sugar was low. I wanted to have a go at feeding him which (amazing how this works) would raise his BS. They made me wait almost a whole day. They insisted on feeding him formula instead of giving him to me, despite my request that he not be given anything with a nipple that wasn’t mine.
They wouldn’t bring him to me, nor me to him. I was alone for most of that first morning – friends and family needed to go home and get rest. All I can say is…never leave a post-partum, clinically depressed, insane woman alone in a room when she wants to see, hold, and fall in love with her newborn. It could get very, very ugly. Eventually I believe I used words like “lawyer”, and “Malpractice” and “calling the local news to tell them about your little psychological torture games” and maybe “I will stab the next person who comes in here with a rusty needle if they don’t have my baby with them”. I think I also told them I was getting up and leaving, incision be damned, and I was taking my baby with me, and if they tried to stop me I would own them, their children, the hospital, and…oh, is that Toredol you’ve got there? Ok, then…I can stay for a little while longer…
Oops…did they forget to listen to me when I mentioned that opiates make me cranky? Yes…yes they did…and they put me on a morphine drip which I refused to use. Toredol was (and is) my friend. And I did eventually get to have my little baby-burrito brought in. Ah love at first sight!
Ten pounds, four ounces. Twenty-one and one-eighth inches long. Sweet.
I enjoyed seeing this from a father’s perspective – so often, women share their stories but men remain silent…and it’s important to remember that daddies have a part to play, too, and they experience their own kind of labor process that can be just as tortuous as the one going on beside them.
Shade and Sweetwater,
K (you did invite us to share…and you KNOW I go long even on the best of days!)
Kyddryns last blog post..Don’t Mind Meme
After the scary slow down/speed up/watch out for the drunks drive we finally arrived at the hospital and after a quick exam I was admitted and recieved an epidural almost immediately. (I am not big on pain and those contractions HURT!!!) Like I mentioned earlier this was my first baby so we expected things to take a long time. (I should mention at this time that I had the weekend on call doctor and not my own doctor—this will matter later in the story.) After we’d been in the L&D room for a few hours the doctor came in and did his exam: he told Chris not to bother calling anyone at this time of the morning (it was around 5-ish) as it would be hours and hours before I started
pushing and we wouldn’t be seeing the baby before noon or later. By 7 the doctor told Chris if we wanted anyone here for the birth of the baby then he’d better start making some phone calls and he had me start pushing. Once I started pushing I started asking for my doctor…if the other doctor walked into the room I’d ask where Dr. K was. I was told that Dr. K lived less than five minutes from the hospital and he’d be there for the birth. So, I pushed and I pushed. Chris made phone calls, people arrived and I pushed. 9:00 came and went. I pushed. 10:00 came and went. I pushed. I kept asking for Dr. K. I started saying: “I can’t do this.” Chris was Mr. Supportive and saying the things that our child birth classes told him to say. I pushed. The doctor came in (rolled his eyes when I aske for Dr. K) told ‘somebody’ that I wasn’t pushing right and to decrease the meds in my epidural. I pushed. I never did find the words to say: “Something is wrong.” I pushed. Finally when Dr. K walked in I nearly cried in relief. He watched me push through one contraction, he had the vacuum extractor out for the second contraction and by the third contraction he was mad that he hadn’t been called earlier and I was being prepped for a c-section.
While Chris was getting his scrubs on I was taken to the OR and the epidural meds were kicked back up. I remember laying there looking around trying to figure out which one of the masked men with mustaches and glasses was my husband. I figured he had to be the guy on the left as the one on the right was fiddling with dials on a machine and the guy between my legs had to be the doctor. Dr. K asked: “Can you feel this?” and I didn’t feel anything—so he made the incision. I remember saying: “I can feel that, am I supposed to be able to feel that?” Chris says I screamed. The anisthesiologist hollered: “She’s got feeling!” and masked me. Some huge nurse chicken winged Chris and threw him out of the OR. I don’t remember the next 10 hours.
Chris says that a few minutes after he was thrown out he was told that Jordan was born and that I was being stitched up. They could see me and the baby in about two hours. Happy happy joy joy—lets go get some coffee and breakfast since it was now after 11:00. Chris and his parents went to the hospital coffee shop. About two hours later when they were getting ready to come see me and Jordan a nurse showed up. “Mr. C. We’ve been looking all over for you! There were some complications with your wife’s surgery. The doctor couldn’t get the bleeding to stop. She’s on her way to recovery, but it’s all in God’s hands now.”
It seems that I had been pushing correctly (stupid doctor) and I had been doing it for so long and so hard that Jordan’s head had severed an artery in my pelvic region. Dr. K couldn’t find the bleeder and I was given four units of blood while I was on the table. I was less than five minutes away from a hysterectomy when Dr. K finally got the bleeding to stop.
When I finally saw my son for the first time he was 10 hours old, I was very sick, very weak, and totally out of it. In an attempt at motherly love and devotion I tried really hard to be positive: “Oh, he’s cute.” When he was not cute at all. His head was misshappen to one side because he’d been stuck in the birth canal at an odd angle, and he had a bright red stork bite that went from his chin, up his nose, down the middle of his forehead and all the way to the back of his neck. With his mass of blonde hair slicked over to the side he looked like Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes).
He’s our only child. We lost one four years later at 20 weeks due to an incompetent cervix. I believe with everything I have that my cervix was weakened and traumatized during Jordan’s birth and if we’d had a c-section earlier Samuel would be alive today.
Btw: Your son is totally cute in every way there is for a baby to be cute!
My miracle will turn 13 in two weeks. whoa! I feel old. LOL!
The one that comes to my mind first is the birth of my last daughter. I knew she was my last, and it was such a bittersweet moment. Joy mixed with sadness. Knowing this was the last time I would experience this.
I loved your posts. Very heartfelt and well written!
GreenJellos last blog post..Wordless Wednesday
Simply lovely. The best part is all of it.
Betsys last blog post..LOOK OUT!
Wow, that’s a great story! I can relate to only one part of it and that was; “The look on my wife’s face was of utter disappointment, as if she had somehow failed.” Little Man was delivered by c-section and I hated every bit of it.
Our first child, Monkey, everything was routine and picture perfect. The only hiccup was that I had said “I’ll never have an epidural.” Then after the labor started, I asked for one. My dear, sweet husband, knowing my wishes, kindly asked “honey, are you sure? You said…” I don’t remember the rest. Apparently, I went all exorcist on him and demanded the epidural.
While getting one, I had to put my arms around the waist of the nurse instead of Trey. I think they had some concerns with husbands passing out from the needles and stuff so they always had the moms hold the nurses. I had a contraction just as the anesthesiologist was inserting the needle and I swear I would have squeezed that nurse in half if I could have.
Not fun. But overall, it was a “routine” labor and delivery lasting only about 10 hours or so from start to finish. Monkey, as a girl, was a surprise as we didn’t find out the sex beforehand. I mean, it’s one of the true surprises of life, right? She was such a beautiful little bit.
Little Man, on the other hand, was most definitely NOT a routine delivery. I couldn’t possibly go into it all here in the comments, but I might post it on my blog later. His birthday is coming up soon…
Kool Aids last blog post..Question of the day
Oh, Trish – that just sucks in so many ways.
You know – this is why I say every woman should have a doula, an advocate, someone there who isn’t all tied up in the birth but just there for the Mum and Dad to talk to, ask questions of, someone who will tell the doctor where to stick it when he’s an ass.
Shade and Sweetwater,
K
Kyddryns last blog post..Don’t Mind Meme
Kyddryn, I totally agree with the douda suggestion.
It all sounded so New Age and la de da when I first heard about it, but I have a friend really keen to become one and hearing her talk about it makes me think just like you, every woman should have her there!
Tara@From Dawn Till Rusks last blog post..The business of blogging: Dave’s story
Hi Blogger Dad – You sure kept me on the edge of my seat with this one. With every word you wrote, I could feel your anguish. It’s a beautiful, suspenseful story with a happy ending. It’s also wonderful to hear about the birthing process from the dads point of view, as we often forget they, too, are part of the process.
Barbara Swaffords last blog post..It’s All About Me – Part 3
Thanks to everyone for keeping the conversation going while I was tied up today.
Dave – Thank you, I appreciate the nice words.
Tara – Thank you. As for seeing me, that’s the only picture where I’m not tearing apart a phone book, tearing doors off of cars or wrestling bears.
CK – Thank you, I appreciate the cringes and the compliments.
Sal – Thanks, though I would have preferred if I was able to fully bring you to tears at work. (note to self: write sad story tomorrow)
Writer Dad – Thanks, Sean. I’m kicking myself over a typo in the post which my wife spotted. A beautiful ballerina? That’s a new one. I don’t remember what my doc said. It certainly wasn’t “you’ve got a beautiful quarterback.”
Urban Panther – Jeez, you’re like a pro or something!
Kyddryn – Maybe the baby was scared off by all the damned singing in the hospital room? Thanks for sharing your story, I enjoyed reading your posts in this series. I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you see him. If they did that to my wife, I might have gone postal on someone. Glad you finally got to see your baby burrito.
Trish – Thanks for sharing what must have been a hellish ordeal. Well, two ordeals, given the loss of your second baby. Thanks also for the kind words. As for your miracle, I hope he was a bit easier on you than Calvin was on his mom. I’m contemplating changing my son’s name to Calvin, because he can indeed be a handful!
GreenJello – Thank you, I appreciate the nice words. Thanks also for the email letting me know about the broken links!
Betsy – Thank you.
Kool Aid – If you post the rest on your blog, feel free to come back here and leave a link to it for any readers who wish to follow. Your comment reminded me of something the anesthesiologist told me. He didn’t want me to stay in the room and told me that he once had a father who was in the room and when he saw his wife get stuck with the needle, he passed out, hit his head hard on something and died. If what he said was true, that is pretty damned tragic. I told the guy I’ve seen far worse than whatever he planned to do and I wasn’t going anywhere.
Kyddryn – I never heard of that. Maybe next time.
Barbara – Thank you. I was hoping it wouldn’t come off melodramatic, especially in light of women who have tragedies occur during birth. We had a good birth, so I have no horrible story to share, but at the same time, I wanted to portray my thoughts and emotions at the time as honestly as I could.
Great way to share your story. My experiences were fairly similar. I have to reference part III: My first child was born on Super Bowl Sunday, as the opening kickoff was in the air. My father-in-law (a high school football coach for 20 years) and brother-in-law (in his 3rd or 4th year as a high school football coach) were forced to watch the game in the hospital waiting room. I suppose I should feel bad about that. My daughters favorite thing to watch on TV? Football.
Thanks again for sharing your experiences. It has been a great reminder of how lucky I am as well.
Lovely, gorgeous, enjoyed the whole story. What a darling litle chap!
Scribbles last blog post..Things can only get better.
OH, I love these stories! Thanks for doing this!
My “epidural only took on half of my body. Talk about a freaky feeling.To make my first birth worse, the labor and delivery unit shared a floor with ICU, where I worked at the time. ALL of my coworkers kept “popping in” to see how was I was doing. There’s nothing better than going back to work and knowing all of your co-workers have seen your naked bum in the air.
My husband had helped out his best friend that day and had been up for nearly 48 hours. I waited as long as I could to wake him and tell him we had to go to the hospital. It took me 45 minutes to get him out of bed and I was afraid I would have the baby at home. The ride to the hospital over bumpy roads was excruciating. I was already 8 cm when I got to the hospital, then I pushed every 5 minutes for four hours before someone realized the baby’s cord was around his neck. My placenta tore loose and the doctor almost dropped the baby when he shot out. (Yeah, it really happened that way)
My husband turned green and was ordered back to the head of the bed before he passed out. An hour later, I was rubbing HIS back. (Yeah, I know. )All things told, it all worked out ok, I guess God really is in control cause things could have gone really wrong, but didn’t.
The second one was a piece of cake. I was 7.5 cm when I got to the hospital because no one believed me when I said I was in labor 2 days previously.They also argues with me when I said I needed to push until I told them “Look, I either push or I’m gonna puke.” (Nurses hate puking patients.) No meds, contractions every 2 minutes, and the doctors says, ” another 15 minutes and we should have a baby!” I did the math in my head, said “HELL NO!” and gave a good three pushes like my life depended on it. Tada! One baby burrito!
Jamie Simmermans last blog post..The No Regrets Journey
OH, I love these stories! Thanks for doing this!
My epidural only took on half of my body. Talk about a freaky feeling.
To make my first birth worse, the labor and delivery unit shared a floor with ICU, where I worked at the time. ALL of my co-workers kept “popping in” to see how was I was doing. There’s nothing better than going back to work and knowing all of your co-workers have seen your naked bum.
My husband had helped out his best friend that day and had been up for nearly 48 hours. I waited as long as I could to wake him and tell him we had to go to the hospital. It took me 45 minutes to get him out of bed and I was afraid I would have the baby at home. The ride to the hospital over bumpy roads was excruciating. I was already 8 cm when I got to the hospital, then I pushed every 5 minutes for four hours before someone realized the baby’s cord was around his neck. My placenta tore loose and the doctor almost dropped the baby when he shot out. (Yeah, it really happened that way)
My husband turned green and was ordered back to the head of the bed before he passed out. An hour later, I was rubbing HIS back.(Yeah, I know.)
All things told, it all worked out ok, I guess God really is in control cause things could have gone really wrong, but didn’t.
The second one was a piece of cake. I was 7.5 cm when I got to the hospital because no one believed me when I said I was in labor 2 days previously.They also argues with me when I said I needed to push until I told them “Look, I either push or I’m gonna puke.” (Nurses hate puking patients.) No meds, contractions every 2 minutes, and the doctors says, “Another 15 minutes and we should have a baby!” I did the math in my head, said “HELL NO!” and gave a good three pushes like my life depended on it. Tada! One baby burrito!
I had kid #1 the “old fashioned way”. Damn that was a lot of work! But he was induced and the worst of it was about an hour.
I had kid #2 by c-section. My husband was an EMT in a former life so he isn’t usually squeamish. But I don’t think he liked seeing me laying on a table, fileted (sp?, past tense of filet) open like a trout. The only good thing about it was they tied my tubes while they were there.
Each procedure has good points and bad points. The best points are the babies at the end
LizPs last blog post..04/05/08 Good Advice
Perhaps someday I will share the story of my son’s birth with everyone…but for now all I can say is that I was on the edge of my wait while you were waiting, while you peaked behind the curtain, god that is a scary situation.
Matthew Drydens last blog post..Separation Anxiety
I know it’s been a while, but I’m starting my son’s birth story this week. His birthday is on Saturday and I thought it would be a nice tribute.
Kool Aids last blog post..Our Baby story – part one
Loved your story. Inspired me to write my own baby story!
.-= Sana´s last blog ..Baby Story: FINAL Part =-.
I gave birth to my son on my bathroom floor after 15 minutes of pushing and 12 hours of wonderful support and tremendous pain. The midwife and I caught him together. I think about it often with fondess… I look forward to doing it again.
Such a similar story to ours! http://whiskeyforaftershave.wordpress.com/2010/03/15/what-a-day/
And beautifully written
.-= Drolgerg´s last blog ..You Had Me At “Agoo” =-.