Because of my problematic blood pressure and other issues during my pregnancy with Zachary, my doctor didn’t want me to carry him past 39 weeks. The week Zachary was born was a busy one baby-wise, so his birth was actually scheduled for my doctor’s day off on a weekend he wasn’t on call. At 38 weeks I had hit that part of pregnancy where I was just so done, so with my state of mind and all other pregnancy-related things together my baby’s birth was scheduled for that Friday.
We happily attended our last clinic appointment, got our admittance papers, and hopped over to the hospital to be admitted. With this being my first rodeo, I packed way too much. WAY too much. I don’t remember how many trips Cy had to make to bring everything in, and to leave we used a luggage trolley. My induction was started. The night was pretty uneventful, with the exception of a wild drug-induced dream that was the result of a medication given to kill the migraine that decided to rain on my parade.
The next morning the doctor came in to check me, and I had no progression. We ended up going with a c-section, because the idea of an all-day induction and long labor with my blood pressure issues wasn’t a good one. It was good not having a lot of time to think about the c-section, because just the couple of hours waiting for the OR was bad enough. There are no pictures allowed in the OR, so we weren’t able to take any brand new baby pictures.
I was shocked by how quickly Zachary came out. It seemed like Cy had just settled into his seat and squeezed my hand when he was being dangled around the corner. The sad thing is I really don’t remember the sound of his cry or even seeing him because of what came next. Cy went off with baby and the doctor told him we’d be finished shortly, only we ran into issues after they left the room. The doctor found a softball-sized mass on my right ovary. Hello, surprise! He asked if he had my permission to remove it, I said yes, and was put to sleep. What made it all so strange is that I didn’t realize for quite a while that I had been put under, so as far as I was concerned I blinked after giving permission to remove the cyst and heard them talking about sending it to biopsy. I felt very groggy, cold, and weak. I had lost so much blood by that point that I was borderline receiving a transfusion, and was in recovery for longer than normal. The nurses were sweet, realizing I’d barely seen my baby, and took pictures for me.
I was taken to my room almost an hour after Cy had been told I’d be out in a few minutes. He was waiting for me along with my mother-in-law, his step-dad, my sister, and my niece. At that point I had no idea that everything had taken so long, or that they had been extremely worried as the time stretched out (the doctor did talk to them as soon as I was wheeled into recovery, though).
I felt drugged the first time I held Zachary, but still remember the excitement as they wheeled him in. It was surreal. All the losses, all the ups and downs during the pregnancy… it all led to that moment. They handed him to me, and my world was never the same again.