Delilah 1:1

Delilah was supposed to be my VBAC baby (Vaginal Birth After Caesarean). I really wanted to experience a “normal” birth after what happened with Evan. I started thinking about natural childbirth even before I got pregnant the second time. It really started with watching The Business of Being Born (highly recommend for anyone pregnant). Then, I mentioned wanting to go natural the next time when James and I were taking a small vacation up in Vail last summer (was I pregnant then? I can’t remember…it seems so long ago!). As I said to him then, “It is like Emily says, ‘Go big, or go home.’” At first James was sort of weirded out by going natural with no pain meds, but I explained that I thought that this would be the best chance for having a VBAC. After that, he was incredibly supportive. Pregnancy was, again, mostly uneventful. I had some nasty morning sickness, and the usual discomfort, but nothing too out of the ordinary. I hired a team of doulas to help me out in the labor room. I read up on the Bradley techniques and Hypnobirthing. At my 36 week doctor appointment, my doctor and I talked about coming back in two weeks and that she would strip my membranes then (to hopefully get things started off on their own…the best chance for a VBAC). She said, “Assuming that this baby is head down, of course.” She turned on the ultrasound machine and put it at the bottom of my belly, and then moved it up to the top…where you could clearly see a head. She was very disappointed, I think, because she knew how much I wanted a VBAC.

We tried some of the tricks to try to get baby to flip, but it just wasn’t going to happen. I was hopeful at each appointment that they would have different news for me, but it just didn’t happen. At my 38 week appointment, the doctor and I scheduled a c-section for March 10, 2009. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get a chance to experience a natural delivery, but being able to schedule the birth made me feel a little more in control of the situation.
Surgery protocol says that when you have a surgery, you can’t eat after midnight the night before. My surgery wasn’t until 5:30, so that would have been a very long time to be without food. Thankfully, the anesthesiologist said it would be ok for me to have breakfast before 8:00 am. So the morning of March 10th, I went to get Evan out of bed to go to day care, and the kid was burning up. So, that was a change of plans. He went to breakfast with us and then we had a nice relaxing day of taking care of a sick kid. Emily came over to watch Evan around 2 and we scooted out the door.

We checked into the hospital at 3:30. Strangely enough, the same girl who checked me in this time had checked me in 3 years before with Evan. I got into an observation room and hooked up to the monitors. The light contractions I had been feeling all day started to really pick up and HURT. They were coming every 2 to 3 minutes and I had to concentrate to get through them. We had some company in the observation room. It was a small room but two or three people were there at all times with me. James, my folks, Linda, and David came in and out as we waited. And waited. My surgery was supposed to be at 5:30, but we were told that we got bumped for an emergency c-section. So we were supposed to be next at 7. But we got bumped again. My spirits really started to fall. I was getting a headache and felt lightheaded from not eating. I was hooked up to an IV, so I had to pee all the time. So much fun trying to get to the bathroom without showing off the goods to random people. Finally at 8:30, my doctor came into the room to tell us that we were next. She was in a hurry. It was like we had to get me on the table before someone else got there before me. (Incidentally, the hospital was super busy. Full moon.) They wheeled me down the hall to the OR. I had to try to scoot over to the operating table without falling off—not an easy task for a pregnant woman. The OR was really freaking cold. I was shivering…probably with cold and nerves both. I wanted to remember everything because I didn’t get to really see anything the last time. One thing that struck me as funny was that there was one nurse whose job was to sort of guard the tools that were all sterilized and laid out there. James was allowed to come in while I got my spinal, but he couldn’t touch anything. I had to curl into a ball around my pregnant belly for them to get the right place for the spinal. The local anesthetic was quite painful—like a bunch of bee stings right on your back. But once that took effect, I couldn’t feel much. I did feel wet on my back. I still don’t know what that was. After the spinal went in, I felt very warm. I felt intoxicated. It was kind of nice…especially laying there with your lady bits exposed to everyone… They draped me up. James said they were pinching me and such and I couldn’t feel a thing (I could feel them pinching me with just the spinal with Evan which is why they had to use general. So glad I said something then!). And away we go! They started to cut and I asked James what he could see. If there was a lot of fat. LOL. I asked him if they were through the second layer yet. (Not yet!) The doctor explained that there was a lot of scar tissue from my last surgery, so they were cutting it all out. At one point, I started to panic a bit because I couldn’t breathe. The anesthesiologist explained that it was just because I was numb so high up, but that I could breathe and demonstrated by having me blow on my hand. The surgery seemed to take a million years. I was trying to listen to what the doctor was saying to the other (very young) doctor but either couldn’t hear or couldn’t make sense of it.

Finally, they pulled out the baby. She was pulled out feet first and had the cord wrapped around her neck. I asked several times if she was ok, and they assured me that she was. James asked why she wasn’t crying yet, and they said it was because they hadn’t done anything to piss her off yet. They held her up for me to see her right away. My first feeling was happiness that everything was ok; the second feeling was disappointment because I had thought I would feel something magical when you see your baby born…something I had missed out on the first time. Then they carried her away to a corner of the OR where I couldn’t even see. I tried to move the drape so that I could see, but I got the smackdown from the doctors. I guess they don’t want you to accidentally see your innards on the outside. It isn’t really fair. You sacrifice and carry the baby for 9 (10) months and then you don’t even get to see what is going on. It took awhile for them to get me cleaned up and sewed up. Eventually, they brought the baby to me and James to see. I got to smell her—ah, baby smell.

After, they rolled me (picture a conveyer belt, for real) onto a bed and moved me to recovery. They monitored me and cleaned baby up. James was already quite smitten and wouldn’t even leave to go tell our folks that we were out (they eventually found us by asking around! LOL). I finally got to hold her once they were sure I wasn’t going to drop her…and I got to breastfeed there in recovery. She nursed for a few minutes before dropping off to sleep.
We named Delilah Sue (Sue for both of her grandmothers—Suzan and Linda Sue) the next morning.

Our hospital stay was short and sort of crazy. Poor Evan got even sicker while we were gone. He gave his caretakers (Emily, Madeline, Linda, and David) a run for their money. The day we left the hospital, he was diagnosed with strep and the flu. We were told that the two kids should not be in the same house together. So James, Delilah, and I had to immediately pack up and go to a hotel. At the time, I was beside myself. I wanted to be able to care for my boy; I was afraid for Delilah; I was exhausted and just wanted to be home. But in all, it wasn’t so bad at the hotel. I got some time to adjust to being away from the hospital without having to care for a sick three year old.

It is so crazy that it has only been 3 months…and yet it seems like a lifetime. Sweet Delilah.