How I Wasn't There for my Son's Birth.

So, here's the story.
But first, some background:

My first two labors were cake. Telling my story would get responses like "bitch, please" or an evil glare and a view of their backside getting smaller. Easy, peezy.
I, like a jackass, assumed the third would follow suit. And couldn't have been happier about it. 

More background (but more recent backness):
A week before the eventual arrival, I ended up at the hospital for severe back pain and bleeding - with clots.
Back pain = sunnyside up, face down baby. Nerve is being pressed.
Blood = unexplained, but "normal". Don't ask me how...
Sent home in gads of pain. Waiting for "real" labor or 39 weeks.

Sunday before arrival, we head back to hospital. Contractions are more intense, 3/4 minutes apart and lots of pressure.
No cervical change, and I'm still 36 hours from 39 weeks. Sent back home.
Hubband is starting to make noise about taking me elsewhere.  Knowing Hubband, this means he's worried.
I am, at this point, an angry, hurting, bitch.  Excuse my french.  

I manage to eat my way to Tuesday morning.  December 14th, 2010.

So, the first part started out pretty normal.  Except my pleas to start with breaking my water instead of pitocin, because I'm already contracting, are nixed - and pitocin is started.

I champ it out for a few more hours, until I feel like if I go longer it may be too late.  Quick check, only to discover there is ZERO progress.  None.  (Still sunnyside up, face down).

So, I get the epidural.

It works beautifully for about half an hour.

Then I started having a pretty acute pain.  Acute does not mean cute and fuzzy.  It means sharp and ouchie. 


The anesthesiologist is called in.  More drugs are given, assesments made, and my last coherent rememory is this:
Anesthesiologist to nurse: "Dr. Wittich needs to get in here now and evaluate her."

The pain, had started in the middle part of my lower belly.  Everything around it was numb to my boobays.
With each contraction the pain "grew" in a straight line across my belly.

This is where I am retelling the story from what I was told by nurses, docs and Hubband.  


Baby Zore started having decels.  Way low decels.  Down to like, 15bpm.
I started throwing up, and became "incoherent" with pain.  Also, no progress yet.
Doctor came in, witnessed a baby decel, and my pain and said something to the effect of:
"We need to get her into an OR.  She's abrupting."  


Hubband was given scrubs.  I, apparently, signed consent forms.  Seriously?  Hopefully I got puke all over them.  


So, I remember being wheeled into the OR, and them giving me more drugs - only to do a poke test, where I definitely felt every poke.
So, under general anesthesia it had to be.

And that is how I was not there for my son's birth.
Neither was hubband.

We have no awesome pictures.  I have no awesome first moment memories.
I have the job of telling myself "it's better that we're both healthy, and alive".
Which, of course, I totally believe.  But, I missed my son's birth.  And that's hard.  


I met him a few hours later, but under a heavy haze of drugs, and intense pain.
Pain?  Really?  A ten inch slice from hipbone to hipbone, and I'm feeling pain?????  


There are a few pictures of it all, and I'll lay 'em down here.

Very last time in my house being pregnant.
And I'm stoked that I'm taking pictures of it.
Can't you tell? 

I was not there for this.

Or this.

Or this.

But daddy was.
So, that's somthin' at least.

I swear I was looking at the camera and that I was also smiling.
This is the first time I remember meeting him.
The first "official" time - I don't remember.
This was, however, the first time I "held" him. 

Potato face! 

Our trip home.
He's saying:
Excuse me? Get outta my face! 

And we're home.
And doing well.
Him, much better than his mommy.
But she'll get there.  

So bear with bare blogging for a little while.  Pleaseandthankyou!