Don’t go on unless you’ve read parts one, two, and three.
9:00 p.m.
True to her word, my doctor arrived once more to perform a final cervical check. No change. She looked at me, waiting for my cue. I wasn't crying anymore.
"We've waited long enough," I said. "Let's do the c-section."
The Pitocin drip was turned off, and the anesthesiologist was summoned to ramp up my epidural. Samantha called my parents to give them the news, and moments later, the phone was to my ear. It was my mother. Having given birth five times herself and delivered the youngest of us via c-section, she wanted to offer words of reassurance.
Also, lies!
"Mine wasn't bad at all," she said. "I didn't feel a thing."
"Yes, you did!" I cried. "The whole time I've been pregnant you’ve talked about how the doctors messed up your pain meds and how you felt them cut you open!"
"But I had bad doctors!" she replied. "You've got good doctors. Everything's going to be OK."
I sure hoped so.
The anesthesiologist arrived and increased my epidural. "How numb should I be?" I asked. "Should I feel pokes but no pain, or not feel anything at all?"
"You won't feel anything at all," he said. "At one point there'll be pressure, but other than that, you shouldn't feel a thing."
"What if I do?"
"Then you tell us, and we'll stop."
"OK."
Luke was given a gown and face mask and instructed to suit up. Meanwhile, the day was finally taking its toll on me; I thought I might fall asleep any minute. I actually hoped that I would.
9:23 p.m.
I was wheeled to the OR. (Thanks to Molly for jotting that one down. Luke was a bit preoccupied.)
I don't know what I imagined the operating room would look like, but it seemed a lot smaller than I thought it would be, and much brighter. I was transferred from my bed to the operating table, and my arms were laid out on my sides. My gown was rolled up to my chest, and a curtain was positioned just below my breasts. Luke had to wait outside while Kelli, nurse number three, prepped my lady parts for surgery. The anesthesiologist was there, too, ready to offer his services at a moment's notice.
My eyes kept closing. I really thought I might pass out. Then Kelli spoke.
"I've been poking you pretty hard," she said. "You didn't feel anything?"
"Nope. Where's Luke?"
"He's coming," she said. And suddenly, he was next to me, to the right of me, squeezing my hand.
"You're not going to look, are you?" I asked, and he shook his head. "I'm going to stay right here with you."
Part of me wanted to look into his eyes, but keeping them shut seemed like my best option. I kept willing myself to fall asleep and not wake up until the baby was out and I was put back together. I was still afraid of the epidural failing on me, just like it had with my mom.
Next thing I knew, the doctors were doing their thing, and I couldn't keep quiet.
"What do you think her name will be?" I said to Luke. "Do you think she'll be a Kara Leigh, or Maia Katherine, or Katherine Amelia?"
"She can be whatever you want," he replied. Later, he told me he would've agreed to any name I wanted, that's how bad he felt for everything I had to go through that day, only to have it end with surgery.
After what seemed like forever, the doctor spoke.
"You're going to feel a lot of pressure on your chest now," she said. "Remember to take deep breaths, OK?"
"OK," I said, and bam, there it was, all that pressure, and I was holding on to Luke's hand with all the strength I could muster.
And then I was hearing her cry. It was the most incredible moment of my life.
The doctor held her up for me, and I maybe saw an arm. But I didn't care.
"She's OK?" I asked. I was crying again, in a way I've never cried before. What else can you do when presented with such a miracle?
"She's perfect."
I looked at Luke, and tears were in his eyes, too. "I love you so much," I said, and he kissed my forehead. "I love you, too," he replied.
"Go and be with her, honey," I said. "I'll be OK."
And I was.
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Excerpted from Parental Discretion Advised, originally published on Parents.com. Copyright 2008 by Meredith Corporation. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission.
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