Monday, April 18, 2011
We had the birthing tub sitting on the deck. The obligatory birth kit in the closet. We had bottles of energy sports drinks, herbal teas exploding out of the cabinets and enough tinctures to stock your neighborhood apothecary. We were ready.
It's hard to really recap what happened on the 14th. I got a phone call from our midwives saying they would really like me to get an ultrasound. The ultrasound tech stopped talking small talk at one point. The physicians assistant said to get ourselves ready for a potential "change in plans." The OB came in and said what I was dreading but strangely expecting- "the baby wasn't growing, the heartbeat was great but movement was not, we have to do a c-section, if we induce you she might not survive."
Off to the hospital we went. Bagless. Pregnant. Scared.
"Are you excited to have a baby tonight?"
I have no idea. The rest is a total blur. I was expecting to have Indie taken to the NICU for a couple of days. I was expecting to not be able to see her. To have to dust off my breast pump and start storing milk.
What wasn't a blur was the people around me. Joe pissing off the nurse because he didn't want to put on the scrubs before he had to. Jen (our midwife) with my prenatal chart- chasing down everyone who touched it so she didn't lose it. Lori (my amazingly wonderful friend) running into the room, diet coke in hand, literally two minutes before we went into the OR. Julie (our midwife) on the phone, totally calm, checking in.
Turns out Indie was ok. Itty bitty, but pink and screaming. Joe held her while they finished sewing me back up. Jen gave me the play by play- what Indie was doing, what the OB was doing. Back in the recovery room, Jen practically stripped Indie and I down for skin to skin contact and low and behold- Indie actually latched on. Apparently she was just really, really hungry and really, really ready to come out.
Julie and Angela made it to the hospital the next day to meet Indie. They stayed long enough to watch Bear meet his sister. My mom just happened to be getting on a flight to Denver when I went into surgery. Barrett was with the Woods having a blast eating pancakes with Connor- or so I've been told many times. Lori brought the balloons and birthday cake I had wanted in the "original plan" and we got to sing a teary eyed "happy birthday" to Indie.
Once the percocet wore off I realized I was pretty mad about the whole thing. Than really sad. Than really happy. Back to mad. Maybe a little frustrated. Sad. Happy. Mad.
You get the idea.
I may not have actually had my baby at home but I got what the very thing midwifery care is all about. People loving on us. Surrounding us. And whether that is in your own bed or a crappy hospital one- being surrounded by loving arms is the greatest gift anyone can ever be given.
So thank you to everyone who took care of us. Who loved us. From midwives to family to friends.
And welcome little one! You are precious.
Posted by Lauren at 8:03 PM