I told myself I'd have this written by 2/12/10, but that obviously didn't happen. Oh well. It's been a rather busy year and a pretty busy past handful of weeks, so I'm just going to give myself a pass on the guilt and enjoy a nice, though admittedly foggy, walk down memory lane.
We knew 2/12 would be the big day, barring an early labor, so the lead-up to this long-awaited event wasn't going to be so much about guesses and wondering than it was about details and schedules. While the mystery can be exciting, I am a detail and schedule kind of gal, so I wasn't really complaining about this aspect of a planned C-section.
It was a pretty frigid and crazy-weather-filled few months prior, but 2/12 was a fairly basic Seattle winter day: cold, gray and damp. I'd made it through my last day of work on 2/11, tired, but in good shape. My folks came up that evening, charged with the baby-, house- and cat-sitting while we were to be in the hospital.
I think the hardest part of waiting out those last hours was the restlessness; knowing we were so close to meeting our new baby and starting life as a full family did plenty to test my patience. Added to that, though, was hunger and thirst! The C was scheduled originally for 11:30am and bumped back to 12:30 to accommodate our OB Akiko Kurachi's schedule. This meant rising early (who sleeps in with a 25 month old and a teeny tiny bladder?) and starving my way through half the day. No small feat for a very pregnant woman, especially if she's me who normally eats and drinks all day long. Anyhow, I'd chosen to have pizza for dinner (yum) and scheduled a wake up call for myself to swallow a big, thick, PBJ and slug down a giant glass of chocolate soy milk at midnight. Good thing I did that because it was the very last I'd have for the next 37 hours. I've NEVER gone that long without food!
The next morning, I showered and dressed, unpacked and repacked my hospital bag, (absentmindedly leaving out socks for the baby's trip home from the hospital) and milled about, waiting for the morning to pass. Thankfully we had a fuller house with Nana and Pepere around to help distract me because I couldn't quite focus on anything. I know I planted tons of kisses on Zoe - as many as she'd let me, anyways. I was going to be away from her for a few days, doing something that was going to rock her little world, and I was quite sensitive to all of it. I knew chances were slim that she'd remember much of it - life before baby - but I just didn't want to put any negative marks in her mind about the day.
After measuring Zoe's height (what we do on or near the 12th of every month), Dave and I left for the hospital. It was around 10am, I think. Plenty early enough to not have to worry about the short drive into Ballard - I was in no mood for being held up by traffic! We talked about Zoe as we pulled out of the neighborhood - how did she seem? she seemed to know something was up...did I remember to tell Nana this and that? - and then I think we got a bit quiet. I'm sure we talked but I don't remember much until we were on 15th, just north of where you turn onto Market to head over to the hospital. I remember wondering out loud if my instincts were going to be right this time - that we'd be having a boy. I'd been SO convinced for SO much of the pregnancy (since about 6 weeks, right about when I'd become convinced Zoe was a girl in her pregnancy), that I was nearly certain that wasn't going to be the surprise of the day. And I remember Dave saying something to the effect that he hoped I wouldn't be disappointed when it turned out to be a girl. Just like that. He said it as though that's what he knew was going to happen - us having another girl. I kind of guffawed to myself. He had no clue! He wasn't the one carrying the baby. How could he say something like that? I just replied with the truth: that of course I wouldn't be disappointed if it was a girl. I would just be hugely surprised because I'd been SO convinced for SO long that it was a boy that it would be an amazing thing if I was wrong. I think he chuckled with a bit of disbelief.
We parked. We gathered our things. We walked in to the hospital and made our way to the maternity ward where it felt VERY weird to walk up and introduce ourselves to the staff. We had an appointment to deliver our baby. So odd. But, the oddness gave way to familiarity. We'd been there before, done the same thing before. We half-expected to know half the nursing staff. Fortunately, though, we were assigned someone new and fabulous. Jackie was young and cool and funny and sweet and seemed to jive well with my banter and Dave's bad jokes. And, we discovered, she was a friend of the family almost! She knew Chris and Erin! Seattle is an easy town to be recognized in with the last name of St. Pierre ;)
The waiting DID take forever. They did NOT invite me to strip down right away. They did NOT hook me up and wheel me down right away. We got to get really settled in before ANYTHING seemed to start happening. The only thing that kept my patience was listening to the baby's heart beat on the monitor. It was kind of nice news to also hear that I was having lots of tiny contractions. As though my body and the schedule for the C were actually in sync. And then, when they had us start to get ready, it kind of went by pretty fast. Dave was suddenly in his daddy scrubs and we were headed to the OR.
It was odd to look around at the waiting area outside the OR - where I'd sat two years prior in a haze of pain and fear and tears - and to literally chat up the nurses and anesthesiologist while they asked some last-minute questions (when did you last eat/drink, any conditions, how much do you weigh (!), etc). Then, I finally got through the door. I thought it would fly by after that - it had with Zoe - but things seemed to slow way down because as we progressed through each preparatory step, I remembered the next step to come and the next after that...and all the steps between me and the baby. Crazy-making. It was an eternity, however, that I lay there, naked from the waist down, arms and legs splayed out, in a room full of nurses and assistants and students and the anesthesiologist before the Dr. finally arrived. She was running late. I guess it wouldn't have been appropriate for me to scream that I didn't have all day, so I kept talking, about random things, trying to keep my mind going.
Fra Na, our midwife, was on my right, Dave was up near my head, giving me some updates about the progress. I felt the tugging and poking, lots of coldness and then the release of my uterus after the incision. Then LOTS more tugging as they reached in to grab the baby's head. And then I heard it, the cry that will stay with me forever. It was less a cry than a yell. A big "hey!" from someone who wanted to be heard. I asked if my ears were right - if that was actually the baby - and giggled at the news that I was right. And then I announced that my milk had come in. That's all it took. The room was impressed :)
So much was happening, I knew, but nothing was happening. I was amazed at how long it took before finally Dave peered over the curtain and then bent down over my head and said "It's a Maggie."
A Maggie.
I was instantly a kite. Floating. And instantly confused! Did he say Maggie? Awesome! How could that be? A girl? A girl!
I've only been so surprised one other time in my adult life: the day I found out I was still carrying Maggie.
Those two moments taught me something pretty big: I can be so convinced. So certain. And still so wrong. And then so thrilled to be wrong. Crazy for someone who so likes to be right.
Dave took Maggie and brought her around the curtain for me to steal a look. She was covered in the waxy coat of new life and had a scrunched up little face and so much black, black hair...and that cowlick! I thought: fix it! She's going to hate that thing when she's older. They have to fix it for her! And then I thought: but she's beautiful. She's my girl. Our girl.
And so, for something so watched and so planned, I still had a huge surprise in the end. A fantastic, lovely, vociferous and beautiful surprise.
As they were stitching me up, tending to business, the room was cheery and chatty. I remember getting a compliment on my abs (ha) and the anesthesiologist declaring it a 'perfect C'. Not something I thought I'd ever strive for, but it sounded good at the time.
We got back to the room, the three of us, in a blur. But then once we settled back in, it all became so vivid. I knew exactly what I wanted to do: nurse. And boy, did I have a taker! Maggie nursed a good ten times in the short time we were at the hospital (leaving a day early). Little did I know it was a pre-curser for lots more round-the-clock feedings to come, but alas, I was thrilled.
That afternoon, Nana and Pepere brought Zoe over. Maggie was all of 4 hours or so old when she met her sister for the first time, but I think it was love at first sight. It certainly was for me.
Our family has reached completeness and I love that it's you who brought us here, Maggie.
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