Delirious with joy

Delirious with joy

“A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he intends to.” - Gandalf

Tess (Teresa) Lily Jenkins. Born 12-14-12 at 5:59pm. 

After 9 amazing months of pregnancy with no complications, it was getting close to my due date.  My incredible OB, Meera Garcia (a long time friend of mine and Andy’s), recommended we induce labor since signs were suggesting that my “Little Nugget” was not so little after all.  We didn’t want to go beyond my due date and let her get any bigger so I arrived at the hospital on the evening of Dec 4 to start the process.  After 36 hours of cervidil, cytotec, and pitocin, contractions, poking, and prodding there was no change in my cervix so it was either do a c-section or go home to see if things could get going naturally.  At this point I had basically made the decision that if I ever were to have another child, I would be having a home birth.  All in all, it was a pretty miserable experience.

My mom trying to keep me upbeat. The forever optimist. 

She was just excited to have a new grand child :-)

Andy also trying to keep me happy.  Also very excited to be a dad.

Don't let the smile fool you...

My sporadic ineffectual contractions.  

But stable baby heartbeat... which was the important thing.

Oxytocin... that didn't work!

So that’s what I did. Thank god my awesome mom and my incredible husband were around to keep me sane while I just sat around waiting for something to happen for a week.  An ultrasound showed that the baby was indeed going to be a big one, so the docs were guessing she might be too big to move into the birth canal. But again, I waited.  I really did not want a c-section, and wanted to experience giving birth “the old fashioned way.”

Finally, I went in on Dec 13 to try another induction.  Again, all the aggressive meds did NOTHING even after 24 hours. Zero change in my cervix. So, it was decided I would need to have a c-section.  I was honestly heartbroken to hear that I would not experience giving birth naturally.  For 9 months I imagined giving birth.  I witnessed my sister giving birth to my nephew Alex so I had a small idea of how things might go down.  My mom also was a champ at giving birth - having been in labor for only 45 minutes with me, I foolishly hoped I might have a similar experience.  I imagined what it might be like to realize I was going into labor, would my water break?  What would contractions feel like?  I pictured arriving at the hospital with nerves and excitement.  I pictured contractions and pushing…. having Andy coach me in my breathing, watching him cut the umbilical cord.  Watching my baby come out of me and being placed to my chest immediately after.  I imagined nursing the baby in the delivery room.  None of this would happen now… It was one of the most painful and sad moments of my life.

In the end, this was exactly why I wanted my longtime friend Meera to be my doctor.  I have an inherent distrust of physicians, and I think were it anyone else I would have questioned their judgment and motives.  Are they suggesting a c-section so they can get this over with?  Because it’s easier for them? Because this way they can maintain complete control?  Of course, after months of reading pregnancy blogs where doctors who perform c-sections are often portrayed as evil scalping-wielding quacks who want to rob you of your ideal birth experience, this is exactly what would have gone through my mind.  But I trusted and respected Meera. I knew she was giving me the best care and had my and my baby’s best interests in mind with her recommendations. 

After shedding many tears, I realized this was the only way we were going to bring my baby into the world.  I relented. C-section it was.

Having a c-section is actually... terrifying.  Particularly for someone like myself who hates anything to do with medical care. Needles, machines that go “ping,” surgery, pills… I hate it all.  A big part of that might be because I witnessed my brother going through cancer treatment in a hospital, and it has, I think, scarred me in some way.  All I can do when I see an IV drip is picture my big bro, shuffling around his hospital room with one of those in tow.  So basically, in the words of Ron Burgundy, I was in a glass case of emotion at this point.

First, I had to get an epidural – which I wanted to avoid for a natural birth, so even the epidural was emotional turmoil!  Then, I had some pre-pubescent anesthesiologist that had to re-insert the needle into my damn spine not twice but THREE times.  More than a few “F bombs” had been dropped during this experience.  But once he finally got the damn thing in, it made me pretty much numb from the chest down. It was made clear to me that I would not feel pain but would feel “pressure.”  As the anesthesiologist put it, it would be like “an elephant sitting on my chest.” Uhhh.. OK well that sounds pretty damn painful to me but whatever.  In we went for surgery.

Here’s the other thing about a c-section.  You experience it totally and completely awake and un-sedated – sedatives could affect the baby. That’s the last thing I wanted, so I was basically using Lamaze breathing techniques to keep myself from going into a panic. As Meera came in to the OR she reassuredly tells me she will describe the entire process to me so I know what is happening as she does it.  “The hell you will,” I thought!  I didn’t want to know a damn thing about what was happening beyond that curtain.  Just do your thing, Meera and get me my baby. 

Andy, by the way, during this entire process was probably just as terrified as I was but never once let on and kept so strong for me. “Strong like bull,” as my brother Ron would say.  He kept me calm and distracted during the entire process.  Of course, because I was in a state of panic, time somehow simultaneously stood still and flew by, but before I knew what was happening I heard Meera shout “IT’S A GIRL!” and I heard my daughter cry.  And I instantaneously felt this overwhelming sense of calm go over me. She’s here, and she’s crying.  At that moment, all my fears and disappointment over having to have the c-section disappeared.  All I could think about was seeing my baby girl.

And wait, oh my god! It's a girl!  I hadn’t found out the sex during the pregnancy, so it was a true surprise to hear “IT’S A GIRL!” from beyond that blue curtain.  All I could think was how happy my mom would be that she finally has a grand daughter, after having 3 grandsons.  It was an amazing moment.  We decided many months ago to name her Tess, short for Teresa, named after my great aunt "Tess" Heimers (and her mother too, my great grandmother, Theresia Rhomberg).  My mom's parents died when she was young, and her Aunt Tess and Uncle Tony raised her.  They were both childless and retired, but took my mom and Uncle Pete in with open arms. Tess actually died before I was born, but my whole life I've heard stories of this amazing woman and wanted to honor her memory and what she did for my mom by naming my daughter after her.  

But I still hadn’t seen her!  Andy could see her though, and he was describing the scene to me as tears streamed down his face.  I kept asking, “Is she okay? Is she healthy?” And he kept telling me she was.  After checking her out, and cleaning her up, around she came to my side of the blue curtain.  And she was perfect. In every sense of the word. She was truly beautiful!!! Andy held her up so I could see her and all I wanted to do was establish that skin-to-skin contact they talked so much about during my pregnancy classes and in my books.  I learned about how critical it was to have the baby put to your chest after you push her out; it helps with bonding and with the baby’s heart rate and even nursing. While I wasn’t having the ideal experience up to this point, I wanted to make sure we touched.  So I had Andy hold her face to mine, the only parts of our bodies that were exposed, and I cried.  It was a surreal moment that I will never forget. I kept kissing her, her skin felt so soft and perfect.  I loved her already.

At this point, they rolled me into the recovery room.  Next to me they bathed Tess, and got me cleaned up too. We learned the nurse in the recovery room was from Massachusetts, because Andy was wearing a red sox t-shirt. She was awesome and funny, and made me feel happy and calm.  We joked about the red sox’ previous season, and talked about Brady getting another ring this year hopefully. It was just what I needed at that moment.  Then they asked if I wanted to try to nurse my daughter and I did. I figured it wouldn’t work, but I wanted to get the process started.  So they handed her to me and I put her to my chest, and she latched right away! It was incredible.  I was fearful that we would struggle in trying to establish breast-feeding, since some sources suggest that it’s more difficult after a c-section.  Apparently I had nothing to fear.  I was convinced at that moment that my daughter was a genius.  She was awesome at suckling and she was minutes old. 

We talked to my mom on the phone as well, told her it was a girl.  She told us how out in the hall she saw that same pre-pubescent anesthesiologist who effed up my epidural 3 times, and asked him if it was a girl or boy and he wouldn’t tell her! She was so mad. Poor mom. This guy was not establishing a strong fan base in our family.  But it was a great moment to be able to tell her ourselves that she had a granddaughter.   

Another reason I really didn’t want to have the c-section initially was because I didn’t want to have to be on pain medications afterwards.  This was for two reasons – 1) I didn’t want to nurse with narcotics on board, thereby exposing my perfect vulnerable tiny baby to any amount of those nasty drugs.  2) I have had to use narcotic pain meds for knee surgeries in the past, and frankly – they turn me into a crazy person.  I get depressed and paranoid and it’s just a miserable experience – for me and everyone around me. I didn’t want to feel like that ever again, and especially during this amazing time in my life… and possibly even trigger some level of post-partum depression.  But I met with a member of the anesthesia team and came up with a plan where they would remove the epidural (which would keep me numb for 24 hours after the surgery) and treat my pain with ibuprophen and Tylenol.  If those didn’t treat my pain sufficiently, we would supplement with morphine as needed.  I was committed to keeping my and my baby’s body narcotic free, and was lucky enough to get sufficient pain relief from the ibuprophen and Tylenol so never needed any morphine at all.  It was a great feeling and the hospital staff really made me feel like a badass for it too.

In the end, I am over the whole c-section thing.  Would I have rather have gone into labor naturally, experienced painless contractions and pushed Tess out in minutes instead of having been gutted like a fish? Of course. But as Meera very frankly pointed out to me, if it were 100 years ago, neither Tess nor I would have survived this pregnancy.  Tess was 9 pounds and her head was 14-1/2 cm.  And as Meera witnessed when she had my insides open, my pelvic opening is tiny. (Of course, my response to this was “well, why the hell is my ass so fat then???” Gotta keep a sense of humor about these things ;-)  But honestly, Tess would have been stuck in there, and eventually the placenta would have given out. And even IF I was somehow able to squeeze her out, pushing her massive noggin’ out of the birth canal would have been so traumatic her poor little head and brain would have been damaged.  Andy also told me about people he met in the hallways and elevators, people who’s babies were in the NICU or special care nursery, one man’s baby had already had two surgeries and his wife was in critical care.  Hearing about these poor, poor people really made me count my blessings. Thinking of it that way, medical technology allowed me to have a healthy, perfect beautiful daughter AND enabled me to be here to enjoy her. Who cares how my baby entered the world – she entered it.    I was grateful for the c-section.  I was grateful for Meera.  Screw the blogs and their bullshitty judgment!  

So… My daughter is here and is healthy and is so FRIGGIN’ AWESOME!  I am so completely smitten with her in everyway. I can’t stop staring at her.  Parents always say it to expectant parents, but it means nothing until you experience it yourself.  Frankly I think it's a bit condescending when parents even try to describe these feelings to anyone who hasn’t gone through it themselves.  It’s impossible to put into words.  I never could relate to these feelings before… I’ve never been one who has been particularly into babies or children.  They made me slightly uncomfortable to be honest. But now that I have my own… I just couldn’t imagine being so “gaga” over a baby! I am a total geek about her!  All I want to do is squeeze her and snuggle with her.  I’m completely ridiculous and don’t even care.  I know its clichéd but everything changed the moment she came into my life.  All I keep thinking is… how did I get so lucky?  Andy and I have been joking about how someone out there is looking out for us, and we might have to start going to all the different religious houses (a Christian church, Buddhist temple, Jewish synagogue, Muslim mosque, etc) to say thanks to whoever might be taking care of us.  We are truly blessed.

Gramma... with her first granddaughter.

Dad's first diaper change!  Instead of telling him to say "cheese" I told him to say "poo!"

Tess with my "Haggis hand," as Andy so cleverly named it.  My IV got messed up somehow and the fluid just started pooling in my hand. Which made it swell so bad it looked like a latex glove that was blown up like a balloon.  One of my many "battle scars" of birth... which I wear with pride.

Me and my homegirl.