"He's not even crowning" he said. I could not stop the screaming inside my head "What? He’s not even crowning?! What the hell have I been doing for the past six hours"? I think it was at this point that I looked at Michael and told him I didn't think I could go through this again, and he'd have to be okay with just one kid. It was also at this point where I'm fairly certain I screamed at the doctor "Just get him out of me". The next few minutes were a blur of me screaming in pain, needed and wanting to push but not doing it. I look back and think "maybe if I had just pushed..." I was also screaming for the anesthesiologist to come back and start my epidural back up. It was just bad. So bad. I was so that crazy awful lady in labor screaming at the top of her lungs. I look back and I'm actually embarrassed at the way I was.
Before I knew it I was being taken into the OR. I was told it would be a lot brighter and a lot colder than I expected. When we got in it was exactly that. And I commented to no one in particular "Wow, this definitely isn't how they OR's look on Grey's". The anesthesiologist (aka my new BFF) was there and getting me all hooked up, all while taking phone calls. Looking back, it was pretty funny. My arms were spread out and if you were on the ceiling looking down I looked like I was lying on a cross. It was cold. Mike was nowhere to be found. I kept asking where he was and they told me "He's on his way." Everything seemed to take forever, but the drugs had kicked in and at this point I was so mentally and physically exhausted, I just wanted it to be over. Shortly after Mike arrived they told me I'd feel some pressure. One of the doctor's commented "wow, he's really far down" (thanks…just what I needed to hear…that he was almost out and because I was freaking out he's now getting cut out of me…but I digress). Some tugging and pressure and there he was. All I heard was some crying, my doctor announcing it was a boy, then a few seconds later telling me he was 8lb 7oz. "What?" I said "What?!" just in pure disbelief that he was that big. The doctor laughed and said "Is that what you are naming him?"
A few minutes later the nurse came over to show me my little guy. She leaned him in close to me and said "His heads a little misshapen, but he's good". He looked perfect to me and at that moment I hated the fact that I couldn't hold him myself. Michael took him from the nurse and just sat there crying for a bit while they started to close me up.
It was a looooooong day. We actually didn't even get up into our room on the maternity level till after midnight. I was exhausted, Michael was exhausted and our families were pretty tired too. I often look back and feel like I was a bit cheated. A good friend of mine who had her baby naturally asked if I was just so overcome with emotion after I had Jackson. She had said that she saw her daughter and was just so in love and crying. I didn’t have that. I think I was just so detached from what was going on, so tired, so done; I didn’t have that immediate reaction. And I kind of wished I had.
So while my worst fear ended up coming true (aka being in labor for ever then ending up with a c-section) it was all worth it to get this little guy :)
Oh, and I forgot to mention, when we were in the elevator going up to the maternity ward the nurse said "Oh, there was another girl who had a big baby today too, 9lb!" So basically the other girl that my mid-wife said was going to have a smaller baby too had a nice big chunker as well. Even funnier, his name was Lincoln. The nurses commented on Jackson and Lincoln and how President's names must be "in" this year.
I will also mention that I no longer have a relationship with that mid-wife....