Our induction was scheduled for a Thursday. J's birthday was Tuesday - I don't even remember what we did to celebrate. I do remember Wednesday, though. I was sitting at home, taking a nap in the afternoon, and it suddenly occurred to me that it was the last day of me just being me. I had a moment. It was a big deal. That night J and I went out to eat at our favorite little Mexican restaurant - a place we frequented when we were first dating. It was nice to spend some time talking about us. Our story. Everything leading up to this new, massively huge chapter that would start the next day.
Speaking of the next day, things actually went pretty well. I know some people have had not-great induction experiences, but mine was good.
However, by the original definition of "successful induction" (meaning a vaginal delivery), mine was not. It ended in an unplanned c-section.
Truth be told, I have never had hard feelings towards c-sections. They can be life-saving. In fact, going in to this whole thing the only thing on our "birth plan" was "successfully birth a baby/keep both mom and baby alive." C-sections were never out of the question.
But being okay with a c-section in theory is a hell of a lot different than going through one in actuality, especially when you weren't planning on it.
You see, Tiny Human was stuck.
Everything was progressing quickly and wonderfully that day, aside from the fact that the little guy wasn't moving any lower. Not even a budge. Ever seen Winnie the Pooh, when Pooh gets stuck in Rabbit's door after eating too much honey? After 2 hours of pushing (during which I would vomit repeatedly - fun!) my doctor was increasingly concerned about how low his heart rate would drop during the pushes. (I was concerned about all the vomiting.) We had to wait through several cycles of contractions in between pushes just to wait for his heart rate to come back up. I couldn't push that frequently as a result, and so we were kind of stuck, too.
Then my doctor reached up in there and discovered that the Tiny Human in my belly had his tiny arm up by his neck, effectively creating a big huge barrier to getting through the tiny opening and also causing extra pressure every time we tried to push him out. ("We," ha. Every time I pushed.)
My doctor was/is awesome. She's got this crazy good bedside manner. She's one of the calmest people I know, so when she said in her gentle, confident voice that she thinks a c-section would be a good idea (and gave me the reasons why), I didn't hesitate. Do it.
So we did!
Something no one tells you about c-sections: just about everything, starting with the reality of feeling colder/shakier than you've ever felt before. I was convulsing on the table and I could barely control it. All natural, I was told. But not super fun. There was a drape in front of me so I couldn't see all the proceedings down there, but I could stare up into the kind and wonderful face of my anesthesiologist, God bless him. I could also look to my left, into the fact of my wonderful husband, who was absolutely NOT going to look beyond the drape to see what was going on down there either. Some things are better left unseen, I guess.
And so as the doctors and nurses did their thing, we sat/laid there and talked about cruises and island vacations with them. The anesthesiologist would keep me posted on the procedures, and truth be told even though I couldn't feel any pain, I could definitely feel pulling and tugging of things. The time came when he said, "Here he comes," and suddenly I heard it.
I heard him.
I heard our baby.
I looked at J and my eyes watered and I said, "I made that."
And there he was, gently held by a nurse, looking all purple and weird and perfect... And he was ours.