At 8am my doctor came in to check my progress. I was at a 3 and still having contractions every other minute. She decided to go ahead and break my water to get things moving along. I did a lot of walking up and down the hall. My mom was right there with me every step of the way. While my husband was in the lobby watching baseball with his family, my mom was there. I don't even remember her leaving to get something to eat or drink. Not once. She was always there. Even my mother-in-law was there almost constantly.
They finally decided to give me some kind of medicine to increase the contractions. That's when it all went bad. I started un-dilating. But the medicine had worked. I now knew what it felt like to need to push. I couldn't stop myself. Everyone in the room was screaming at me not to push because it might hurt my precious baby. My mom was asking for something to undo what the last medicine did, but they were telling her there was nothing. My mother-in-law, the nurse, told them there most certainly was (she might have even told them what, but I don't remember). They finally got me something that stopped the need to push.
It was early in the morning now on the 23rd. The on-call doctor was explaining the C-section procedure to me. He was letting me know that everyone had to live within 20 minutes of the hospital so we should be getting started within the hour. All I needed to do was stay calm and hold on.
Over an hour and a half later they finally came and got me to take me back to the operation room. I remember my husband was back and my mom was gone. She had spent her entire birthday by my side, but it was over now. Now I was numb from the middle of my back down. I felt little movements in my tummy, but not enough to know what was going on. I wanted to know if I was having a little boy or a girl, they told me to be patient, that they would let me know when they got that far. It seemed to take forever. I was finally told that I had a little boy. My husband got to hold him before they took him away. I had to stay to get sewn up, and I wasn't allowed to hold him on the table.
Next was recovery. I was in there for quite some time. Finally, I was allowed to go back to my room and see my baby. I was able to hold him and kiss him. The nurses told me that he shouldn't stay in the room with me, and took him to the nursery so I could rest. I wasn't happy about this at all. They also started giving him bottles of water, and gave him a pacifier, all things that I was against, but no one checked with me. I remember the nurses coming into push on my belly to help it heal. I don't recall it doing anything but being agonizingly painful.
I'm so thankful that I no longer have to rely on the nursing staff. My boy turned 9 today, and I can hold him, and kiss him, and cuddle him whenever I want to (provided that I'm faster than he is or he is willing). I now have total control over what he eats and when he eats. He want's Pizza for his birthday. It's amazing the changes that have happened in the past 9 years. If I hadn't been along for the ride, I would doubt that it was even possible for him to be the 7 lb baby that came from that terrible time. The one thing that hasn't changed though, is my love for him.
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