Friday, April 1, 6 - 9:30 a.m.
As I was walking with Liz to the OR, I couldn't help being surprised that they were actually letting me walk. I could feel the meconium rushing out of me, and was convinced the baby was dead. I couldn't share this with Liz though - I was too scared to talk. Liz, meanwhile, kept whispering reassuring things to me. I wasn't listening.
The OR was well-lit and cold, and everyone was waiting for me. The anesthesiologist wanted to get started, but had to wait as I had a contraction next to the table. Before I could get on the table, Liz had me take off my underwear. I was so scared that people would see what I was feeling that I actually kicked my underwear under the table. I couldn't bear the thought of them seeing what was actually going on inside me.
In total I had three contractions from start-to-finish as they were trying to put the epidural in. I've seen many women get epidurals, and I was expecting a lot of pain. Either I had an amazing anesthesiologist, or the back labor had numbed me - either way, I didn't feel a thing.
I had no idea how much time passed and what went on. Essentially, once I stopped feeling the contractions I started trying to manage the surgeon, asking him things like how he would protect my bladder and how was it that he could cut me open without me feeling any pain.
The idea that my baby had died would slip away from me then suddenly rush back. In the moments that the thought was gone, I would slip into the worry that I wasn't going to bond with the baby.
Liz performed a vaginal exam and said the baby was breech. I corrected her, and she said, "I just gave your baby a rectal exam....your baby is breech."
When someone new came into the OR, Liz filled them in on my background, what the situation was, and what my request was for this birth. I never felt alone, I never worried about Dave not yet being in the room - at this point I was numb.
Back in the birthing room, the midwives and I were getting concerned about how much time Courtney's prep was taking. When they left they said it would be 15 minutes, but we closed in on a half hour before someone came to get me.
In that time I let my brain run amok with all of my worst fears: Courtney was going to die, the baby was going to die, they were both going to die.
In the middle of this I finally broke down to the midwives about my fear regarding how the birth will affect Courtney's mental health. I was worried about how she would respond and recover from not having a vaginal birth, and figured she would shut down from the idea of having another child someday.
Finally a nurse came to get me, told me to follow her and immediately disappeared. I was completely disoriented when someone pointed me toward the OR. To my surprise I simply walked in by myself - the nurse was already back at her station. Liz greeted me with calm and kindness in her eyes. She brought me a stool and told me if I wanted I could sit, or else stand and watch over the operating curtain. I chose to sit. I wasn't interested in the surgery. I only wanted to watch Courtney's eyes.
Dave was on my left side, and Liz was on his. She was watching what was happening around the curtain and giving us play-by-play.
I could see the surgery in the lights overhead. I remembered having told all of my moms in childbirth classes that if they were having a cesarean, they could watch from the lights. I realized I didn't want to watch and I never looked again.
During pregnancy, I'd had two nightmarish dreams where someone had handed me a baby without me having actually given birth. My biggest fear was not bonding. As I was being cut open those dreams came back to me - "Here I am living my worst dream." Then I would bounce back to the thought that my baby had died, which was an even worse worry and spun into another new worry: how would I tell everyone that I didn't have a baby? In that moment, as I thought about telling people, I became embarrassed at the fact that after two pregnancies I was unable literally incapable of having a baby.
I did my best to relay the play-by-play to Courtney, who couldn't hear anything the surgeon was saying. When he said the baby was breech - the first I'd heard of it - a look of complete bewilderment went over Courtney's face, and I imagine over mine too. Toward the end of the surgery I discovered I could look up into the lights and watch the reflection of what was happening on the table. It was my first glimpse of the baby, albeit blurry and in reverse.
At some point it dawned on me that I was actually going to meet my baby - I started crying, and an ecstatic feeling came over me. I felt similar emotions to those a mom feels as she's about to push her baby out.
The doctor said "he" a few times when referring to the baby. I said to myself, "That's not right..." I really wanted to use the name Lazadae, and didn't think we'd be able to use it again. People continued to say "he." I was crying, but I couldn't hear my baby crying. I thought that a baby after a cesarean should be crying since she would be over-stimulated. I was sure now the baby was dead. I told this to Liz, who said they weren't stimulating the baby because of the meconium in the lungs. I told her she was lying. Then she said, "There, did you hear him cry?" I said, "No." I was still sure the baby was dead.
I watched the last few seconds as they lifted the baby out, then popped up from the stool and watched as nurses carried over to the table. Everyone was saying, "he," and I thought, "Holy shit, I have a son." I asked over the curtain if it was a boy and someone actually said, "We don't know yet." I wanted to run over there but Liz kept telling me to wait another second...wait another second. We didn't even know if the baby was alive at this point, but Liz reassurred us based on how they were handling her that everything looked good.
Finally I went over and stood by her with Courtney's voice in my head the whole time, "Stay with the baby...don't let them wash the baby...bring the baby over here..." I made it to the table and glanced over the baby's purply-gray body and finally saw....we had a girl!
"Get over and talk to her," Courtney said. They were suctioning snot and phlegm out of her lungs, but she still didn't seem to be breathing. I put my finger on her chest and said her name, "Lazadae, you're here." Then she cried, and so did I.
I finally heared the baby...I knew she was here now without denial. Dave called back that we have a girl. I finally got to sneak a peek...."She has my chin," was the first thing I said, the second being "She looks like my mother."
Dave carried the baby - Lazadae - under his scrubs back to me. I wanted Dave to wear a coat with no shirt so he could easily put her against his skin, and so I'd be able to see her. Instead he was in normal blue scrubs. She was warm and safe, no doubt a little freaked out, but I couldn't see her. Finally I asked Liz to cut Dave's hospital scrub shirt, which she did - a simple but profound and enormous gesture. And there was my baby looking back at me.
Finally, after 41 weeks, I got to hold her even as they wheeled us out of the OR - a gesture I knew was special, and not normal hospital procedure. She was naked against my chest and cried the whole time - her way of letting me know she was here with us...Lazadae Althea Jarecki.
