Year 1
A note: I talk about getting a c-section in this piece, so if that is triggering for you, please skip!
A year ago today, our son was born. I had a long labor. It started on a Monday at around 3 am and ended on a Wednesday morning at 9:15. The contractions at first were sporadic and inconsistent. They completely disappeared on Tuesday morning, only to come back in full force later that afternoon.
Once labor started in earnest, we made our room cozy and I hunkered down into labor. Ned, my husband, was there to hold my hand and help me breathe through it. Eventually our doula showed up, and she guided us on when to go to the hospital and what to do when the contractions got intense.
By the time we finally checked into the hospital for good, I was almost fully dilated and feral. We were waiting in triage for a room and, as Ned described it later, Nellie had left the building. He looked into my eyes and saw not me. I was pacing, crying, making sounds that I can’t remember and probably don’t want to. Eventually I got the epidural and was able to rest for a while in the hospital bed as we waited for Rowan to descend.
After a few hours, we tried pushing. Rowan’s heart rate was going down with each push and wasn’t coming back up. A bunch of nurses and doctors rushed in and gave me something to help bring his heart rate up. The doctor let me rest for a couple more hours in hopes that Rowan would continue to descend on his own, and then we could use the vacuum or forceps. After trying to push again, the doctor declared that we should do a c-section before it turned into an emergency situation. It felt like a relief when he made that decision.
The doctors prepared me for surgery and wheeled me into the operating room. Ned came in with a full hazmat suit situation. Four or so doctors and nurses lifted me from the hospital bed onto the operating table. I remember being aware of the full heft of my pregnant body. It felt very tender, the fact that four adults I barely knew were carefully lifting me.
Once I was on the table, they instructed me to lay my arms out to either side in a T shape. I felt vulnerable. I remember the sound of the heart rate monitor blaring next to me and being aware of how slowly or quickly my heart was beating. It sounded too slow to me, but then everything was happening in slow motion. I remember looking back and forth, at Ned, at the white lights overhead, at the blue sheet in front of me.
Once the anesthetics set in, I started shivering uncontrollably. Apparently this is a pretty common reaction. A resident draped a few baby blankets on my chest to try to keep me warm.
I had been told that it only takes a few minutes to get the baby out during a c-section, and then it takes a bit longer to sew you up afterwards. I have no recollection of how long it took, but I remember feeling the pressure of the doctors rearranging things, rooting around. And then suddenly I felt a deep pulling sensation as they lifted Rowan out of my body and into the air. I imagine it’s what it would feel like if we had removable limbs that could be popped on and off at will with no pain. I remember gasping when that happened, and then hearing Rowan’s cry for the first time. It was like the universe ripped open. I started crying. The resident rushed over and asked if I was in pain.
The nurses took Rowan, let Ned cut the umbilical cord, cleaned Rowan up, weighed him, and then bundled him in blankets and a tiny hat. When that was done, a nurse and Ned brought Rowan over and put his head next to mine.
I started talking to him. In my memory, he stopped crying and opened his eyes when he heard my voice. I’m not sure that’s what actually happened, but that’s what my memory says. I remember for sure what I was thinking when I saw his face for the first time: Of course.