TW: pain, childbirth, medical stuff
Disclaimer: Never before and certainly not now have I ever thought someone else who had a C-section was a failure. They're my newest heroes.
Me: I just feel like I failed at giving birth, and that was the first thing I was supposed to do for her.
Jaime: Mmm hmm...I think we should buy iodine tablets in case there's a nuclear holocaust.
It's not that he doesn't care. It's that he doesn't care AND he's tired of hearing about it. We're both alive and healthy, and that's all he does care about. Must be nice, Pollyanna.
In Spain, they use the expression "give to the light" for the moment someone is born. I love it, and it was my mantra for Sol's birth. What could be easier and more beautiful than illuminating our shitty world for our child for the first time?
And that's all the thought I gave to it. At least I didn't think I had a birth plan until absolutely nothing went according to it.
An induction was scheduled for her due date, and even though I had agreed to it, I hoped she'd come on her own before that. I wanted the first pangs of labor to be between just my baby and me before shaking Jaime awake. I also thought Sol should choose her birthday.
Instead, we called the hospital the morning of our induction and confirmed our time before an almost silent drive there knowing it would be the last with just the two of us for awhile. I hadn't had the slightest indication of labor despite our best efforts.
The early hours were fun. Our induction was pushed back because another woman needed an emergency C-section. It sounded like a rough one, but we barely paid attention. We were too excited and eating the candy we'd brought for the nurses.
I couldn't feel the contractions when the anesthesiologist came to administer my epidural. My nurse said it was because I was tough, but I truly wouldn't have known when I was contracting if I couldn't see it on the monitor. I thought I'd beaten the system and would be the first person on Earth to give birth completely painlessly.
LOLzzzzz. And if Samuel L. Jackson had been in the room at that moment, he would have asked me if I thought I was a smart mother fucker.
It was shortly after the OB broke my water, another thing I didn't want, that I lost all track of time and space.
With each contraction, I curled into Jaime begging him to press his full weight into my back. It felt like someone was stabbing me repeatedly with the length of whatever standard size really long knives come in. Nothing helped and eventually my contractions overlapped giving me no break in between.
My nurse, knowing the most violent pain was in my back, began to suspect that Sol was in the wrong position facing up instead of towards my tailbone.
In retrospect it's really cute that Sol was "sunny side up," but at the time, it felt fucking evil.
She and Jaime maneuvered me onto all fours and other positions to turn her, but it didn't work, and I was dilating quickly.
I told the nurse I felt ready to poop like she'd told me to watch out for, but it really felt like my body was about to turn inside out and come through my butt. It was time to push, and it oddly felt good to be able to do something to counter the poltergeist in my lower half. I was so close to feeling the weight of our baby on my chest, I thought I could push out a VW bus if I had to.
My nurse was an incredible pushing coach, and she invited Jaime down to see the big show. Every time I pushed, he could see Sol's head bulge through my cervix then get sucked back into my body as soon as I stopped. He watched this scene on repeat for hours.
The first time my OB brought up a C-section coincided with the end of my nurse's shift. Jaime says he knew it was over then, but I could not accept that outcome. I still can't.
I pushed with the new nurse whom I hated only because she smelled like my own failure. Eventually, my doctor came back and said I could push for another 6 hours and have a C-section, or I could have a C-section now.
Jaime hugged me while I cried, and I asked if he could hold her skin to skin immediately because I wouldn't be able to hold her for awhile.
After some discussion about how to dress Jaime, they took him away, and the anesthesiologist came in to "turn up my epidural" for the C-section. That's when the panic started because this sadist thought the epidural she had gone to school for a decade to learn how to administer had worked.
And guess who else thought it had worked? My doctor and the entire surgical staff as they prepped me. This included shoving another catheter up my urethra with no finesse and packing my vagina with gauze, which hurt even more. When I cried out in pain, my doctor said, "Why are you complaining, we've done much worse to you today?"
Hello anger my old friend. It was the first time I could think clearly in hours.
I turned to the anesthesiologist and said, "If you cut me open right now, I will be able to feel everything."
She certainly didn't believe me, but she did have an object that felt like a jack with sharper points. I could tell her everywhere she was poking me behind the sheet. Her face dropped.
Everything suddenly stopped.
My doctor explained that they were going to remove my epidural and replace it with something called a spinal. If that didn't work, they'd have to put me completely under, and Jaime wouldn't be allowed in the room. She left to tell him the epidural had failed to which he probably responded, "no shit."
I was so afraid our baby would be born into a blindingly bright room full of strangers and without her parents.
But the spinal worked, and Sol Perales-Green was given to the light twice because she fell back in the first time.
Jaime's job was to announce the sex of the baby, but he was so overwhelmed, he forgot. He did yell out that she had red hair, which absolutely was not true. It was as black as his. She looks exactly like him just like I'd hoped.
In between Sol's cries, I could hear the surgical team get excited about her weight and the size of the placenta.
I really wanted to see this giant placenta that had kept my baby alive for months, but I couldn't speak. Euphoria washed over me as I tried to track her movements in the room. She couldn't walk, but she was moving so quickly. I was cemented to a table.
If I craned my head back, I could see Jaime and Sol chest to chest. I couldn't hear what he was saying to her, but I like that it will be their secret forever. It was torture not to be able to hold her.
I watched them as long as I could, but my neck started to hurt, and I shifted my focus back onto myself. I could hear a staple gun then that same anesthesiologist squirted a mystery liquid directly into my eye. She wiped it away and apologized profusely. I hope I fucking haunt her dreams.
Watching my blood pressure tank twice was Jaime's trauma, and he imagined life as a single father while clutching Sol as they brought me back around. I don't think anyone said anything to reassure him. It probably happens all the time.
In the recovery room, they put my daughter on my chest, and she hasn't moved from that spot in 2 months.
We don't know her very well yet, but we do know she really hates it when the sun gets in her eyes.
Jaime was in charge of sending photos of the baby to our family and friends. This one was taken after my father asked if he could send some without my boobs in them so he could show people.
I remember being worried that people could tell I'd had a C-section from this photo, angry I couldn't lift my kid out of her bassinet or change her diaper and in so much pain.
