Ambergontrail – Trying to get through life without dying of dysentery

Hi! Some of you may know me already, I’m Amber of Ambergontrail as well as Mrs. Kiwi from Weddingbee! I had my daughter Piper last November, and OMGMom asked me if I’d share my birth story with you readers to share the reality of a c-section delivery. I said “Of course!” because I love talking about how Piper came into the world.

My whole pregnancy, I measured large, and we were pretty sure we were going to have a large baby. While I’m only five feet tall, my husband is 6’3″ and three hundred pounds or so (he’s a coach and teacher), so I figured our chances for a largish baby were good. At 38 weeks, Piper was measuring 8lbs6oz, and with my small frame, our stand-in OB (Ours was on maternity leave and was returning the next week) thought our chances of a vaginal birth were slipping away with every week that passed by. When she mentioned inducing I told her I really preferred going naturally, if possible. She said fine, but to think about it and let our usual OB talk about it with us at the appointment the next week.

A week passed, and our OB was back, and after seeing how huge I had gotten, immediately brought up induction. “Well, I’m kind of afraid of pitocin and all that”, I told her. She did a manual palpation of my belly, measured my fundus (size of your uterus/belly combo) and frowned. “Yes, she is very large, a really big baby. I know a vaginal birth is really important to you, so I’m going to tell you that I think she’s pretty comfortable in there, and the longer you wait to have her the bigger she’ll be.” The OB said  judging from the size of her as well as my fluid level in my uterus, letting me go past my due date was risking needing a c-section anyway.  When I again brought up my fear of pitocin, she said we’d do an internal exam to see how far I’d progressed, which would have a bearing on how badly the pitocin would be to start with, since it’s a lot easier to be induced if you’re already partly dilated and effaced. She said the pitocin wasn’t really all that bad (as she’d had it herself a few months earlier), and that if you have a doctor and nurses who know what they’re doing, you’re pretty much okay.

The internal. God, the internal.

Doc stretched me out “down there”, and attempted to sweep my membranes. She was wrist deep in my vagina for a very long time, I must say. The experience wasn’t necessarily PAINFUL, but it was very uncomfortable, and that “pressure” was awful. I was gripping onto the little hoo-hah lamp they have next to the table and looking my husband Paul in the eyes, who looked ME in the eyes- nowhere else (I think he was terrified to see my vagina stretch like that). He mouthed, “I love you” as I grew pale and held my breath unwillingly. “I’m touching her head”, OB said, as the discomfort grew stronger. I could feel her hands in there, like she was making pizza dough, just moving in circles. Now, “sweeping the membranes” is basically disconnecting the amniotic sac from your uterus, making it weaker and easier for the water to break and cause you to go into labor without needing meds.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, she pulled out her hands and I breathed out the gust I had been holding. “You have a high threshold for pain”, she said. Really? You could have fooled me! Paul looked over at me, eyebrows raised, seeming pretty impressed. That’s right, I have a vagina of steel. Apparently so, as I had made zero progress from the week before, when I was nearing 2cm dilated and 80% effaced (you guys know what that means, right?). Still, I was progressed enough that a small dose of pitocin wouldn’t be the devil it is for people who aren’t dilated or effaced enough. Since I SO wanted that natural vaginal birth, I agreed to being put on the books for November 23, 2009, since my due date was November 22nd, and my doc was hesitant to go any further past my due date than that.

The plan for my induction was like this: I’d go to work (I worked up to the day before I delivered, how funny is that?), come home around 4, and get our things together. I’d already semi-packed our bag, minus the random things I need daily like a toothbrush, deodorant and all that, so I’d just gather everything else and take a long look at our place before the baby changed everything. We were expected at the hospital at 10:30pm, so they could get my pitocin started while I rested, and “Have your baby by the next day!” My OB was on-call that day, too, which is awesome, I was guaranteed to have her to deliver me, which I hadn’t realized was important to me, until we had her crappy stand in while she was gone. As you can see, the sweeping of the membranes didn’t do anything to jumpstart labor, I had bloody discharge and a bit of cramping, but that was it.

After returning from work and getting our bag together (I packed a ton of clothes, not sure if I’d have a v-birth or c-sec, and I am one to never count on anything to work out as per my expectations), I nervously sat on the couch. Piper kicked me multiple times, and I patted her back. Then, we got ready to leave. I stood at our door, much like the final episode of “Friends”, and locked the door, preparing myself for not seeing it for a few days. Paul and I took our dog, Woofie, to my dad’s house to watch while we were in the hospital. I tearfully said goodbye to both Dad and dog, gave Woofie extra kisses and apologized to him for ruining the life he had gotten used to. Since we were early, we stopped at Vons to get items to snack on while we waited- things like dried fruit, trail mix, water and red bull for Paul as well as Gushers for me because I’m a perpetual child.

We got to the hospital at about 10pm, and pulled our car into the parking area, where the attendant took one look at me and said, “I know where YOU’RE going! Do you need help? Congratulations!!” I explained this was a planned arrival, and I was just fine wheeling my bag and pillow into the hospital by myself while Paul got the car all settled. As I waited for Paul to catch up, I thought about all the pros about getting induced- 1.) No need to worry about your water breaking randomly while shopping/sleeping/working 2.) Able to calmly get your things together and plan out the care for your home/pets 3.) Being able to tell family you will call them when anything happens because a pitocin-induced labor could potentially be a LONG wait, and it’s pointless for them to wait around forever (score here, because I had been so stressed out about our families just waiting in the waiting room for us to have the baby- possibly for hours) . I ignored the cons (1.) pitocin usually hurts more 2.) having to labor at the hospital for a long time instead of at home 3.) always being hooked up to monitors 4.) pain) since I was trying to be upbeat about everything.

We took the elevator to the labor and delivery floor…

And walked to the desk where all the nurses were. “My name is Amber and I’m being induced tonight.” The nurse said they had my room all ready for us and took us to where I’d spend the next 25 hours in bed. They had us fill out forms, including the scary one about what happens if I should die and whatnot, and asked if I was going to have pain relief. I said I wasn’t opposed and signed the form saying that, so it would make getting an epi quicker without having to fill all that crap out while biting the inside of my cheek in pain. They gave me my gown with the shoulders that unsnapped (to make breastfeeding easier, I suppose), and told me to get completely naked and put this on, and to get into bed. I went into the bathroom (shower, sink, toilet with a gross hat-like plastic insert in it, and bars to hold onto if I should get a contraction while peeing) and started getting undressed. A nurse yelled out to pee in the toilet hat and not to flush it, they were going to test my urine for protein. I went and got up into the bed to receive my pitocin drip and monitor, and the blood pressure cuff that would be a permanent fixture attached to my arm.

The nurses were SUPER nice, even though one put the IV in my wrist. No, not the inside of my wrist where the buckle of your watch goes, the SIDE of my wrist.

The side. As in, THE SIDE OF MY WRIST. “I could have put it somewhere else, but this area spoke to me” What? Did it say, “To REALLY make her even MORE uncomfortable for the next few days, put the IV here, where it can snag on things and make her cry”? Anyway, at that point we were listening to Piper’s heart bow-bow-bowing on the monitor and getting settled. Paul had made his Dad-nest on the bench they call a bed-

and I was turning on the TV to see what I could watch, when they said, “Has your urine had protein in it before?” Um, no, I am not aware of that happening. Them: “Your blood pressure is kind of high, too. Has that ever happened before?” I told them my blood pressure has been perfect the whole time. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here then, because there is a small amount of protein in your urine and your blood pressure is rising. We’re going to have to keep an eye on you, more than usual.” Well, damn. At least I was in the best place I could be in case the hypertension they said I was getting got any worse. Of course, that resulted in that damn blood pressure cuff being permanently on my arm. For the whole 25 hours I was in that bed. It inflated every 5-10 minutes, which was a PITA, and kept me from getting any sleep. They gave me an internal- no progress from two weeks before, despite the membrane sweep. DAMN!

Me before the pitocin hit.

As I said before, the pitocin drip was started at a small amount, and I felt no pain, other than Piper moving around and kicking the crap out of my insides, which was nothing new. The nurse came in, and said, “Wow, you’re getting some good contractions here, and you haven’t said anything!” “I’m getting contractions?” I asked her. “Yeah, some pretty big ones, you don’t feel them?” Uh-oh. I hadn’t felt a thing. Then Piper moved painfully again, and I said, “Man, she does not like this pitocin!” The nurse said, “You DO know that was a contraction?” OOOOOH. Okay then. Yeah, so that’s not a Hulk-baby killing my ute? Cool. I’ve been feeling those for weeks, no biggie. I sat back, turned Seinfeld on (It was the one with the baby’s bris, ironic the episode started with Jerry and Elaine visiting a friend and their baby in the hospital) and prepared for a long night. I took a look around our large corner room, at the warming station, the Dad-nest, the shelves and computer screens…

And the shelves with my IV.

I was bored already, and it was only 11pm. I put on Friends and finished it. I told Paul to go to sleep since it was boring as hell and I wanted him to have his rest so he would be bright and awake when the time came to push and all. The nurses came in a lot to adjust the belly monitors as the bed had a plastic cover that made me slide down all the time, and to ask how I was doing. When it appeared I was doing fine on the pitocin, they upped the dosage a bit, concerned the contractions weren’t getting any stronger. I had some ice chips and a forbidden popsicle a nurse brought me (hush hush), and put on “A Christmas Story”. A nurse watched a bit of it with me, then got back to work. When that was over, I put on Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull (I love Shia LaBouf) when Paul woke up half-way through. We sat there watching the movie and kind of just hanging out. Relaxing for sleep was kind of useless with the blood pressure cuff and the constant attention of the nurses.

Before long, it was 6:30am. Paul had helped me shuffle to the bathroom once and I kind of decided it was so not worth it- I was going to hold it if I had to go badly. Why was that a good idea at the time? That’s like, the dumbest thing ever. I had slept for an hour max, and I was tired, but also super wired with nerves. When I woke up from my hour sleep, the nurse said she was surprised I hadn’t been woken up by the huge contractions I’d been having. Apparently they were pretty bad! Of course, being a cocky bastard has it’s downfalls, as they raised my pitocin then. Damn. Ooookay, I started feeling them. Ooooookay. Oh. Ow. Hey, yeah, these hurt. Period cramps times like, 100. The nurse comes in and tells me the anesthesia person is about to head into surgery for a c-sec, did I want to wait it out or get the epi now? Being a puss and chicken, I say I want the epi. Backstory: I suffer from vasovagal syncope, a disorder when I pass out from feeling pain. So yeah, I wasn’t looking forward to passing out every time I had a contraction. Anyway, the epi person comes, a lovely lady with a big diamond on her finger. I noticed this why? Who knows. She tells Paul to take a seat while I got into position, sitting on the side of the bed, hunched as far over as I could with my 52″ belly in the way (my belly was 8 inches less around than I was tall, I was HUGE). Paul told the epi-lady he was fine, he’s got a stomach of steel. Well, apparently some Dads don’t take their wives/baby’s mommas getting a needle to spine all that well, and pass out. It’s their rule that the dads have to have a seat while the women get their epidurals. The epi creeped me out, big time. It was the worst! The feeling of it is really indescribable, it’s cold burning and a sharp pain, and just nausea-inducing. I was shown the button to increase the dosage, and told to lay back and relax. It was then when I started feeling woozy, like I was going to pass out. That damn vasovagal syncope!! My vision started getting dark and I started hearing a buzzing noise. They saw me starting to pass out and put an oxygen mask on me. “You have a visitor!” the nurse said. I looked up and my mother in law was in the doorway. Despite being told NOT to come by until we call her. I said, “You are in TROUBLEEEEEEE” as my husband got up to talk to her. She left, apologizing for not listening to our wishes, and told Paul to give me a kiss. Meanwhile, I recuperated in bed after nearly passing out. The pain was gone now, but I felt so weird.

Finally, at 9am, my OB comes in, to see how I’ve progressed, and to break my water. At this point I was on that pitocin drip for 10.5 hours, and only dilated 3cms, and it appeared Piper was still as high as ever, actually, she had moved UP, which was shocking to the doctor. I wish I could tell you about the breaking of the water, it was pretty much nothing- since I had the epi I didn’t feel any pain or anything at all. She took the crochet hook type thing and broke it, and everything flooded out. I had gotten a catheter when my epi was given to me, so I really didn’t need to worry about anything flooding out when I got up at this point. Since I hadn’t dilated all that much in 10 hours WITH pitocin, the OB mentioned surgical means of delivery if my labor continued to stall or progress slowly.  It was decided that she would check me in four hours and we’ll make our decision from there, depending on my dilation.

After the water breaking, and my pit dosage upped, the contractions got stronger. At 1pm, I was dilated to a 4. Again, the pit was upped, and I got stronger contractions, some I could feel on my left side! At around 5pm, I started feeling the contractions again when they were the big ones. It was 19 hours into my labor, and that epi was working well, but not well enough and the epi guy was sent to check out my line- the epi wasn’t dripping correctly, so it was fixed and I was back in no-pain land. Piper dealt with the contractions like a champ, and seemingly didn’t have any adverse reactions, no slowing heartbeat or quicker heartbeat, no distress we could see or feel. Apparently, Piper was pretty comfy in there.

At 7pm, the contractions got stronger and I was checked- I was 7cm dilated, but she was still pretty up there. They could feel a “lip” of cervix, and wanted me to progress a bit more. That’s when it started getting painful- I was in transition, and they wanted to be very conservative with my epi so I could push- seriously, my leg was dead, I couldn’t even move it (it’s still numb in the thigh now). So the pain got stronger, and the pressure started building with every contraction. When they say “pressure” what they mean is a feeling like a meatloaf shaped brick is attempting to push itself out of your bowels- I have never in my LIFE felt such pressure. Thanks to the epi, I couldn’t feel pain, but the pressure was enough to make me want to bite my hand. It was 8pm when the OB came back- still a lip of cervix, so they were going to give me another hour to see if it would go away on its own. During that hour, I was massively uncomfortable. The epi was useless, as the pain wasn’t an issue- the pressure was literally stopping me from breathing. I’m not a religious person, but I was begging God for some help, asking my husband to say a prayer for me, as I just couldn’t do it anymore. Even then, my body and mind was so exhausted from a full day of constant alertness (and getting the insides kicked out of me) that I was literally passing out and coming back to during the contractions which felt like pressure.

The look on my face says it all here.

During the day I had a few naps, no big sleeps, and they were worried I’d be too tired to deliver vaginally- as evidenced by my nodding off constantly. Despite that, when 8:45pm (or so) came around, the pressure was unbearable and I needed to push. I pushed for two hours, each time I’d get close enough to have the head show (According to the nurse- Paul actually watched, as he had to hold my leg, and claimed he saw nothing like a head), then she’d be sucked back up where she came from, I’d fall asleep during contractions which was a little worrying. After two hours the need to push was less than a minute apart, and I was just incredibly uncomfortable and even more miserable. Despite having an epidural, I was able to push, and feel the pushing. They had ceased “re-filling” it when they knew I was getting close. So, I felt it. I felt the pressure of the contractions and her head cramming down in my cervix. I pushed and pushed. I put my foot in Paul’s hand, and the other in the nurse’s hand,  and pushed until I saw stars. They put the oxygen mask on me, and told me to try to breathe during the breaks. Unfortunately, the breaks weren’t very long, and I was so very tired. Still, I pushed. I pushed until I pooped. Forever, I will know my husband looked down at my nether regions to watch his daughter be born, and instead witnessed his wife defecating on the table. At the time, I knew what was happening, and begged him to look away. Then, I fell asleep. It was two hours of fruitless pushing and pooping (everyone was right, as the pressure got worse I couldn’t care less) when they had my OB come in. She was worried that I was very exhausted, and the baby’s head was starting to mold into my pelvis from being constantly wedged in there with each push- so she was not happy. I couldn’t muster up enough energy to push, and I couldn’t sleep to get more energy. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. When my doctor hesitantly mentioned surgery, I was so quick to agree, I think I may have cut her off. I honestly couldn’t do it anymore, the pressure was so huge, so damaging that I still feel repercussions of the hours of pushing I went through. At this point it was decided that I should have an emergency c- the pitocin had long been turned off and the pain from normal contractions was very unpleasant with the epi. They needed some time to prepare the OR, as I was the 7th c-section that day (a ton of emergency ones), so I had to spend the next 20 or so minutes in absolute agony from the unbearable pressure- I literally was holding my butt while laying on my side, my legs crossed like I had to pee. What a bummer, spent 24/25 hours fighting contractions and in agony only to need a c-sec after all. Basically, my body gave up.

Paul was given a plethora of scrubs, none of them matching since they couldn’t find any to fit my gigantic husband.

Finally, I was given a reprieve and they collected me for surgery.

I was moved onto a table with a t-shape. My arms would be strapped down on the “t” and they would begin giving me medication- morphine and more crap in my epidural. They laid a blanket over me, with one side a kind of cover- much like a sleeping bag- fuzzy soft side and thick outer side to insulate. They inserted a hose into the left side of the blanket, this was to avoid the chills women often complain of, as it was heat they were pumping in there. It was SO nice, despite being in total agony from the pressure in my bowels.

They had told Paul to wait outside until he was collected, while they prepped me, putting the curtain up and getting my pain relief situated. My anesthesiologist from that morning had left long before my surgery, and we absolutely LOVED the other guy. LOVED him. I loved him so much I told him I’d name the baby after him if she turned out to be a boy. Hey, I was drugged, what can I say? Finally, Paul was collected, and he held my right hand, seated next to me on one of those little stools.

The doctor said, “Can you feel this?” I felt a poke. “YES! YES I CAN FEEL THAT!!” The doctor replied, “You feel PAIN or you just feel the poke?” I said, “Um, do it again, I’m not sure.” So she poked me again and I said, “I feel something touching me, but no pain.” The doctor said that was what they wanted.  She introduced me to her co-surgeon, one of the docs in the practice I hadn’t met yet. I love her now. They said they were going to begin, and I’d feel some pressure as they had to work really hard to get her out, so not to worry. I must say, I totally understand what “pressure” means now. Anyway, I was laying there, my hand in Paul’s, asking him if everything was okay, and he would say yes.

The pain relief was so nice I kept dozing off while they were doing the surgery, but I could feel them making the incision (not the pain, just the movement), and feel tugging as they pulled out my organs to get to my uterus.

Paul said at one point I was grinning away at him to his left, while they were holding my innards to his right, and it was an image he would never forget- the meds worked so well I had no idea my intestines were in their hands at the time, and I was just happily looking around.

Eventually I felt a ton of pressure and Paul said they were pulling her out- it got a little rough for a bit. Then, she was out. She was purple and slimy, but all ours.

“She’s a big girl!” they said, “Eight pounds six ounces!”, as I loopily lay there crying. Paul got to cut her cord (almost cut the wrong side!), and take pictures of everything.

Cutting the cord

Getting her vitals checked

Because of all the meds I had in me, I was trying to say things but nothing came out correctly. I was slurring all over the place and falling asleep randomly. They showed her to me, with tears running back toward my hairline, and I said, “Is it still a she?” They all laughed and said, yes, “It” is. I then said she looked like Paul, and fell asleep as they sewed me together.

After the delivery we were sent to recovery with the beds separated by curtains. I never got the chills or vomited, they took very good care of me. They handed Piper to me after they helped undo my gown, and she latched on immediately, and fed for 45 minutes!

The first time I got to hold her

As Paul took pictures I considered telling him to stop, then decided it was stupid to be so modest, I was feeding our baby. I was given pain killers and told about post-op care, then wheeled into a labor and delivery room as all the postpartum rooms were taken. Paul was off with Piper to get her newborn tests done, so she was never alone.  It was about 2:40am or so. As I waited for Paul, I sent a few emails and tried to get some sleep. When Paul arrived, he was exhausted too, and after setting up his bed fell promptly to sleep. Since the night shift was light, we were able to have her stay in the nursery that night. After about two hours of uninterrupted sleep I woke up, hot and groggy. It hit me, I was a mother now. That thought was even more apparent when they brought her in around 5:30am to feed, and to change my gigantic pad, “puppy pad” blood catcher to save the sheets and catheter bag. After trying to get her back to sleep post feeding, I tried to sleep. We were all awakened when a nurse announced we would be moving to our post-partum room, where we would be for the next three days. Again, I was wheeled into a strange room with my daughter in her wheeled bassinet right alongside me.

Our little Piper (face all bruised from getting mashed into my midget-sized pelvis).

I got so little sleep that whole time, as everything was so new, and coupled with my c-section, I was just a wreck. People visited and since I was so drugged I couldn’t remember anything, really. One thing I had forgotten to bring was a brush. Seriously. I FORGOT A BRUSH! By my mom’s visit on Wednesday afternoon, my hair was absolutely a rat’s nest from being in bed for three whole days without a shower. I was finally allowed a shower and to try to use the bathroom by Thursday (Thanksgiving), and I felt like a new woman. I got to wear real clothes! They explained how walking around and getting up to do things would help my recovery, so we took walks, Paul holding the baby.

Going to the bathroom post c-section was crazy. Not only had I gotten used to the catheter, but my whole body was weak from not moving since Monday night.  I needed help getting out of bed, and to sit up. Once I got my legs over the side of the bed, it took me a few breaths before I could muster up enough energy and strength to stand. When I finally stood up, I could feel stuff kind of spill into the pad they put in my mesh undies. It was weird! For that very first pee, the nurse had to come with me to make sure I wasn’t bleeding too much, or had too many clots. She showed me how to change the pad and that was the last time someone strange was looking at my kind-of blown out vagina (from the pushing). Even though I had a c-sec, I wasn’t spared the lochia that accompanies a birth. They wanted to be sure I was able to go to the bathroom okay, and constantly loaded me down with stool softeners. Sexy. To take a shower I had to be really careful to avoid getting my staples too wet (I had internal dissolving stitches and external staples), and to not over exert myself. Since I was basically incapacitated, Paul changed every diaper, and brought the baby to me when she was hungry or needed to be held. The OB came in every day to check out my staples and pulled them out the day before we left, saying everything was healing wonderfully. The pediatrician also came in daily to check on Piper’s condition. For pain relief I was given tylenol readily (they usually use aleve, but I’m allergic to it), and percocet when I asked for it. Which I did. A lot. Hey, since my insurance was paying the bill, I was taking full advantage of their meds! I had tylenol at home, man! Eventually we were given the go-ahead to go home, making an appointment with the OB for the post-op appointment later that week. I crammed as much hospital paraphernalia as I could into our bags (extra pads, diapers, her hair brusher, the nose sucker, those weird dry cloth wipe things, the pads that were put under my butt while bleeding), and when we gave our nurse the 2lbs of Sees candy, she came back with her hands full of extra pads, those ice pack pads (no idea why, my “area” was not so ragged that it needed them, but I figured I could use it as an ice pack later), a TON of the mesh panties, more diapers and a few other things. It was super nice.

When we got home, it was just the three of us as per my wishes. I attempted to haul myself up into our super high king-sized bed, and needed help. I also needed help getting out of bed. As the day wore on, I started feeling pain, so Paul headed out to fill my darvocet prescription, and he came back with a surprise- a step stool for the bed! Awesome! I would take the meds and start working on the house- vacuuming and dusting, making food… it wasn’t until the meds wore off and I got totally side-lined by the pain- so don’t go thinking you’re automatically cured like I did!

My swelling (already bad before I had her, almost worse after I had her) lasted for two more weeks, then miraculously went away. It was so nice to put my old shoes on again!

My bleeding lasted the whole six weeks until my post-partum appointment and internal. The smell is awful- not like period blood but like, an almost rotting smell, sorry to say. Those mesh panties are a GODSEND, especially since I couldn’t wear a bikini panty comfortably with my incision. I literally wore them every day with the giganto pads. Eventually, I transitioned to Kotex “Overnights” then to pantyliners. My incision healed pretty well, although I could feel the left side was a little more sensitive than the right, which makes sense because that’s where they really had to tug to get her out. The area of my incision is still numb, but itches now and then.  I can see my scar but it’s pretty well done, so I can’t complain, it’s not like anyone would ever see THAT much of my belly, especially after what Piper did to it. Peeing wasn’t bad, just a lot of blood and discharge for awhile, and my pelvic floor muscles were a little weak from all the pushing and cramming that happened to it, so I’d pee a little sooner than I thought I would. Pooping was another story. Despite having stool softeners, I was completely constipated. I couldn’t poop if I tried, and I was kind of scared to, so I half-assed it (HAHA). I would push and nothing would happen. So, I kind of just let it go. I tried and tried, but nothing. Eventually a day came where I pushed (while holding Piper, as I was home alone), and I just felt it slide out of me (Sorry all). It was really painful. I recommend stool softeners regularly, I wasn’t taking them enough. I felt SUCH a relief, though, that the pain was worth it. It took a few days until pooping didn’t equal bleeding from my butt. Am I disgusting or what? Sorry to tell you all about this.

Anyway, it’s now six months later, and I’m already beginning to think it wasn’t so bad, especially now I know what happens so I can prepare for next time! I’m a little bummed I didn’t get my vaginal birth, but it was out of my hands. Despite wanting to do everything different from how it turned out, I am not too upset about it. Sure, my c-section scar is ugly, and suuuure, my thigh and pelvic area is still numb, and I will have to fight to try to get a vaginal birth next time, but I’m okay with that. In the end, Piper arrived healthy and whole. She wasn’t doped up from the epidural, and she didn’t have a cone head. She latched on immediately after and fed for 45 minutes, both of us falling asleep during the session. If you think about it, the only lasting effects from my labor and delivery (surgery and medication parts)  are: numb thigh and pelvic area, a scar, and my daughter.  My truly horrible lasting effect is in my butt. Now I get to enjoy a constant sensitivity in my butt when I’ve been sitting for awhile, no matter how cushioned the area. I don’t poop normally anymore, and sometimes I hurt when I DO go.

I must say, I loved the epidural. I really did. The odd thing, though, was that because I couldn’t feel the real pain that went with labor that the birth of my daughter felt a bit like it was happening to someone else. Funny, after being so afraid of having labor and delivery interventions, the lasting effect is from pushing- the only natural part of my labor. All in all, a c-section, while total surgery, wasn’t so bad.

To end my super long tale:

Piper and I on our family trip to Solvang, CA.