By the time I entered the operating room, I was completely nerves and shaking. Everyone was moving so fast and I wanted to just press pause for a few minutes. I was about to be a mom, and it still didn't feel real.
Unfortunately, Jeff wasn't able to be in the room with me when I received my spinal epidural--which was the exact thing I was the most nervous about. Luckily it didn't hurt very much at all. I had been reading horror stories on discussion boards about how bad it can be (big mistake). So I was expecting the worst pain possible. Either I had a rockstar anesthesiologist or a high pain tolerance, but regardless it only felt as bad as getting one of my tattoos.
The medicine began to kick in, and I was not expecting it to feel numb up to my chest. I starting panicking thinking that they messed up and I was going to stop breathing. Turns out I am a bit dramatic and after some oxygen I was fine.
Jeff was able to come in shortly afterwards, which calmed my nerves immediately. It felt like seconds later Jeff looked at me and goes "They are cutting you open! Can you feel it?" Nope. I didn't feel a thing. I don't remember much after this, except that I kept telling Jeff to not take blurry pictures. He has a bad tendency to take blurry photos, and I was SUPER stressed about it.
My doctor is one of those people that go a million miles a second. He also exudes coolness without trying; like European sports car and drinks pretentious beer type of cool. I'm not sure how he does it, but I'm fairly certain he runs on cocaine and an espresso IV drip. In the operating room he had music playing the whole time--it was mostly a playlist of adult contemporary. Eric Clapton started playing and I was like "Really? You are a Clapton guy? You are really going to pull my child out to a Clapton song? That's the first thing she's going to hear?" I don't think he appreciated my critiques. Thankfully the song changed before she was born!
I remember looking up at the ceiling when I heard her cry for the first time. John Mayer was playing, and I found it to be an acceptable first song. I remember locking eyes with Jeff and immediately crying. Jeff kept telling me over and over how beautiful she was. My doctor let me peek at her over the curtain, then she was whisked away to be cleaned up, measured, and weighed. Jeff followed her to the nursery while they sewed me up.
A few minutes later he brought her out and I got to see her for the first time. "Hello my sweet princess," I said as I kissed her cheek. Inwardly I cringed that this was what I chose to say to her for the first time, and worried that I was already enforcing a patriarchal concept of being dainty and helpless (these are things I think about when I'm having a baby, okay!?).
Arlie was perfect in every single way possible. She was red and puffy, but I still thought she was the most beautiful thing ever. Afterwards, she and I both had plummeting blood sugar issues, which made breastfeeding and recovery a little tedious. But over all it was such a gentle and peaceful recovery time.
Looking back I am so thankful that I continued to put my trust in the Lord. I'm not sure I could have handled it otherwise. Nothing went like I expected it to, but in the end it was perfect. Giving birth to Arlie taught me so many lessons, most important is that I am much stronger than I give myself credit for, and that love can carry you through even the hardest of times.
