My baby's birth story

I believe all blogs on their baby's birthday start off with something like, "I can't believe how quickly time passes!" So, I will try and break this norm by beginning with the question, "What was the name of that nice black kid who watched my c-section?" Oh yes, it was Charles. What memories!

I told the story of Hudson's birth here {still looking for the correct blog!} and I thought on today, Tuck's big number two birthday, I would share his birth story.

We were told to report to the hospital at 10 a.m. for the prework for my C-section. I had known the date of baby #2's arrival for awhile and before you are a pregnant lady who is hungry at dawn, a 10 a.m. start sounds like a great time to begin your day. However, since I was a pregnant lady on July 12, 2011, I was starving as we drove to the hospital. Seriously, this is my most vivid memory. I can see myself getting off the St. Francis elevator dreaming what I would have for lunch. As we approached the check-in desk, I could tell just by the nurse's body language that this was not going to go as I planned. I was not going to get my lemon icee until much later than 1 or 2. We were sent home.

My husband is a good supporter in times like these and when we returned home to wait out the next two hours, he sweetly removed himself from my presence to find the nearest McDonald's to chow down a couple breakfast sandwiches with Hudson and my step-dad. My mom nicely stayed home to starve it out with me. Although she admitted to me later that she left the family room to snack in the kitchen.

By 12 when we returned to the hospital again, I was grumpy. And...having contractions. That is what no food does to a pregnant lady. It makes you go into labor, I guess. But they found room in the Inn and we checked into our room. Promptly we were asked the question that all women across America dread when dealing with anything gynecological: "Would you mind if a student observes your procedure today, Mrs. Harris?" Good gracious. As if we don't suffer enough with stirrups and stuff like that to not have to deal with the youth of America getting sneak peeks at our parts.

But I said yes. And that is when I met Charles. Charles was an almost 20 something nursing student from Gary, Indiana. He was polite to a fault and extremely excited to "see some action" as his first day at the hospital ever, the day (Monday) before, he had been assigned to postpartum and there wasn't much going on up there but a bunch of exhausted mothers trying to sleep between feedings. So, you can imagine my surprise when I clarify with him that seeing me cut open was going to be the first major medical moment of his budding career.
"You've never seen a birth before, Charles?"
"No, Ma'am."
"Never seen a c-section?"
"No, Ma'am."
"Never seen any organs?"
"Only in books, Ma'am."
I am sure that before you choose to be a nurse you have some degree to confidence in your ability to look at people's innards when they are outtards, but I was still pretty worried about Charles. Josh believes he saw my liver for .00023 seconds during Hudson's C-section arrival and it rocks him to this day. Regardless, there was a lot happening in the room at the time, and my attention now was elsewhere. All the doctors, nurses, anesthesiologists, and other assorted medical personnel peeked it to give me their specific, "This-is-where-I-will-be-standing-while-they-stab-you-open" speech and in the middle of the mayhem, my in-laws also arrive to stare at me.

At about a quarter till one, they came for me. Josh stayed back to get dressed in his scrubs while I walked myself to the OR. Now, there are about 100 things a person should never have to do in their life, but walking to their own operating room needs to be at the top of the list. Seriously, no gurney? With Hudson I was taken to the OR at about 3 a.m. and was definitely not with it enough to pay attention to all the crazy contraptions in the room, but at noon, when I was starving, I was definitely heightened to my entire freezing cold surroundings. (It felt like a refrigerator so I was probably looking for food.)

The epidural was performed, I was put all horizontal, and they had me ready there in my birthday suit. Charles comes in and I remember this because the nurse went through and explicitly told him what trays, tools, devices he could and could not touch. Again, this highlighted the various tools that were about to be used on me and it was not pleasant. I remember saying, "Don't you pass out on me, Charles!" And he laughed back, "I won't, Ma'am." Ironically, it was at that very moment when I started to pass out. I remember one of the nurses--although I assume it was the anesthesiologist-- being right by my face and I telling them to get my husband in the room before I passed out. I did not want Josh to come into the room with me "not with it" because I knew that would scare him to death. I don't remember much for the next couple of minutes, but only five minutes after 1 o'clock, Tucker was born. He was quiet and looked just like his brother. Sometimes the scene is still so vivid in my mind. I can almost look to my left and see his little body laying there in the warmer.

Thankfully, I started to feel better immediately and was anxious to stop hearing about the summer vacations of everyone who was stitching me back together and to get up to postpartum where it was calm and "boring" and quiet with my new person.

I never did see that nice young man from Gary again. He did just fine though. He never passed out and never touched any gadgets he wasn't supposed to.  He is only two years into his nursing program now. I assume he has seen several surgeries by now. Funny how he is as much of my memory of Tucker's birth as anything else.

And Josh's response to my initial question? He said, "I forgot about Charles!"

Jeez! Men!

No, Mama, you can NOT put me in a basket for a picture anymore.