Our birth story started on Saturday, April 28th. Since I was having a scheduled c-section, I had to go to the hospital for some blood work and to submit a pee sample. My doctor, more or less, recommended that I have a c-section due to the fact that my blood pressure had been so high. I was fine with that. More than fine with it. Everyone is entitled to do whatever they want to their body.
We got to the hospital around 9 a.m. They took my blood and I gave them wanted they wanted. Then they sent me to the Maternity floor for a tour and to sign some paperwork.
They wheeled me up there in a wheelchair and sent me to a room with a RN who proceeded to explain what was going to happen.
Things were going good. "Blah blah be here at 5:45 a.m. Anesthesia. Blah blah blah. Private room. Blah blah blah. Surgery at 7:15. Blah blah blah" Obviously I wasn't paying that great attention. Then she starts to tell me exactly what will happen during the surgery and going into great details. I was all like, "Whoa there. Thanks for all the details but we are just going to wing it so we don't need to know all the details."
The nurse didn't seem too shocked. I'm sure she's heard that before. She said, "Ok. Some people want to know everything and some people don't." I again thanked her for offering the details but that I wasn't too concerned with it. At that point, all I wanted was my baby. I didn't care what they did with my intestines or anything like that.
We went and visited my mom and dad who were camping Saturday evening. I have no idea what we did Sunday but I know that I barely slept.
Monday, April 30th we got to the hospital at 5:45 a.m. By the time the hairy admitting lady got us checked in and wheeled me to the Maternity floor it was 6:15 or so. The nurse came in and hooked me up to the monitor to monitor the baby. I felt her moving. And for the first time in the 9 months that I was pregnant, I thought for sure everything was going to be okay.
For the next hour or so, Matt and I just chilled in the room. He got a doctor's outfit and he was sure that he was going to have to help. A nurse tried telling us what was going to happen. Again, I told her that we were winging it. My doctor came in and seemed confident that everything was going to be okay.
Eventually, they wheeled me into the operating room. That was around 7:30. They poked me in the back and gave me a shot to numb my back. It felt like a bee sting or someone pinching me. Then they gave me a spinal. I didn't feel it. By the time they laid me back down, I couldn't feel anything. Pretty soon my doctor came in the room. He laid a cloth of some sort over, well over, you know.
Soon after that Matt was allowed to come in the room. He sat right by me and held my hand the whole time. He didn't dare look at my stomach. He did tell me later that when he walked in the room he saw body parts hanging from something and that he wasn't sure if it was for demonstration or if they were mine.
I heard the doctor and nurses talking about doctor and nurse stuff in the background but I didn't feel a thing. At 7:47, I heard a cry and the doctor pops around from behind the curtain holding our baby girl. He said, "Here is your baby. She's beautiful." I cried. Matt looked like he was going to cry.
I heard them talking about how she was a "10". Apparently, there is some kind of scale they use to rate how good of shape babies are in when they are born. She was a 10. A nurse later told me that they hardly ever give 10's.
They cleaned her up and let me hold her for a minute while the doctor was stitching me up. Then Matt went to the nursery with her while the doctor finished with me.
After the doctor was done, they gave me some morphine.
Now, if there was one thing I could have changed, I would have turned the morphine down. I know I told them several times that morning and the Saturday before that I wanted any and all drugs they could give me. But when I was laying there, I didn't even have a chance to turn it down before they doped me up. They told me they were giving it to me and the next thing I know, it's in the IV.
Pretty soon after that, they took me to a recovery room. When Matt came in, I noticed that he'd been crying. I've only seem Matt cry once or twice before.
We never decided for sure what we were going to name her until the day she was born. We had narrowed it down to either Kylin Rose or Aubria Rose. I planned on letting Matt decide. Before they brought her in the recovery room, Matt said, "She looks like an Aubria." We decided that's what we would name her.
When they finally brought her into the recovery room, Matt and I got to spend some time alone with her. We told her how much we loved her and how we'd never seen a baby as pretty as her and how she was a 10.
It was a day that neither of us will ever forget. I didn't think anything could top the feeling of Matt coming home after 15 months in Iraq, but seeing our baby girl for the first time and knowing she was perfect definitely did.