As you know by now, I was having a scheduled c-section. Which was so strange. On so many levels.
The one nice thing about it was that we could coordinate babysitting for the other kids and have family in town without the midnight drives and risk of missing the birth (all of our family lives 3+ hours away).
I asked to have my little (way taller than me) sister in the room with us.
She’s studying to be a nurse, so she was super excited to be there and made sure to have someone take a picture of her in her “cute scrubs”…even if she had to witness it all from behind my camera lens.
Having a scheduled c-section is SOOOOO weird.
They didn’t have Andy and Marcia come in until I was completely prepped and ready for surgery to begin. (Did you know they cut you open with a laser?!?! Crazy!) So I was alone in the room (okay, with five other medical folks).
At one point, before they turned on the big overhead surgery lights, I could see my own reflection in them…it was like a weird out of body experience.
I mean, that was MY body. I recognized it. And people were taping me up, rubbing Betadine all over me, and who knows what else…yet…I couldn’t feel a THING. And it was so odd to be lying on a table in an operating room understanding that in just a few moments, someone would be cutting all the way through my skin/muscle/uterus…and I wasn’t sick. I didn’t feel bad. I wasn’t exhausted from hours of marathon labor pains. I felt FINE. So it didn’t seem like I had any business whatsoever being cut open. I felt like it was all some awful mistake. And all I could think of was how much a paper cut hurts and how much worse this must feel…minus the crazy anaesthetics they pump you with. It was all overwhelming and felt so…unnatural. I can’t explain it, but it was just surreal and felt wrong.
So I cried. Because I’m weird like that. And I’m sure being pumped with drugs didn’t help my emotions.
Andy and Marcia came in, and within 15 minutes, I could see a bitty baby bottom being lifted away from the blue curtain.
During the surgery, the doctor announced that the cord was wrapped around his neck…twice…AND THEN wrapped around his leg…twice. So even had I tried to deliver naturally, he likely wouldn’t have descended (or worse) because the cord would have been too short.
That helped ease my mind about the whole “I feel perfectly fine but I’m having surgery” thing.
Andy made it a point to request cutting the cord this time.
With the trauma and chaos of the other kids’ births, he had actually never had that Dad Experience and he really wanted to make sure he would be able to do it by the fourth kid. I don’t know why it matters, but it makes me happy that he cared and wanted to do it…and that he was finally able to.
Again, because there were no blue babies or heart conditions or other assorted weirdness, I was able to hold him immediately.
It was at this point that Andy leaned over and whispered…”So, what’s his name?”
“Okay, Owen Paul it is. What’s up Owen? Welcome to the world.”
And it was about this time that Marcia exclaimed “I can see your ovaries and your fallopian tubes Jeannett! It’s so cool! It looks just like the pictures in the books!!!”
“What are you doing talking about it????!!! TAKE PICTURES!!!!”
“You want pictures of your ovaries?”
“Yeah! When else am I ever gonna see them? I’m not gonna frame them for my mantle or anything but that would be so cool to see!”
And so, I have a ton of really cool pictures of my innards. Which is nauseatingly fun.
Owen was pink, screaming and about as happy as a new baby can be with Apgar scores of 8 and 10.
And I was relieved and tired.
A proud Papa showed off his new boy to very excited grandmas while Humpty Dumpty was being put back together again.
I love this picture.
Just an hour or two after his grand entrance into the world, Owen was greeted by his siblings.
Henry and Lucy were chomping at the bit to hold him.
Jill had no interest in her new brother…she just wanted mama.
I couldn’t hold her or let her crawl on me, but she found a way to lean in for a kiss.
She likes me.
Which is good because I like her a lot too.
And the next day was the girls’ third birthday.
(My kids all had the same due date remember?)
Since I was still in the hospital (obviously) my mom bought some cupcakes and we sang to my twin girlies while I held my fresh from the belly one day old boy and sat next to my just turned five year old.
It was crazy. It was hectic. It was overwhelming.
But it was sweet. It was fun. It was precious.
And it is my life.
Our family of 6.