Our darling daughter is finally here.  Matilda Danielle came into this wonderful world at 7:03am on Sunday, January 15th.  She was originally scheduled to make her appearance 2 days later, but the little stinker had to have it her way and come early.  🙂

On Saturday evening/Sunday morning, I started to have fairly regular contractions – about 6 minutes apart.  I had been questioning up until that point how I would know the difference between a contraction and general cramping or soreness.  Everyone had said that “you would know” the difference, and it was so true.  My contractions started in my back and moved around to the front, crippling me temporarily.  I felt like I was getting caught in positions from Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” dance and holding each bizarre pose through the contractions.

By 4:30am we were on our way to the hospital to check it out.  We had experienced a bit of a false alarm earlier in the day so we assumed we would receive similar news.  Low and behold, I was right about my contractions.  At 5:30am it was decided that we would proceed with the cesarean section on that early morning of the 15th.

I immediately began to shake uncontrollably.  An inexplicable fear took over.  I had been mentally preparing for this for months, but now it was here, and 2 days earlier than planned.  Would it hurt?  Was my baby okay?  What was next?

First step was to change me into hospital clothes followed by inserting the intravenous drip.  If I am to be honest, this was actually one of the worst parts of the whole experience.  A huge needle was inserted into the vein in my hand where I have no fat.  The first attempt failed because my vein rejected the needle and immediately blew up like a balloon.  It looked like I had attempted to punch a brick wall.  My eyes widened – is this what’s in store for me!?!

The second attempt was more successful but hurt just as much.  It was then off to the operating room with my husband left behind to change.  The operating room doors opened and I was wheeled into a very blue and silver room.  The lighting was exceptionally bright and it felt like there were 100 people buzzing about like bees, prepping to bring our little girl into the world.  I climbed onto the operating table, afraid to touch anything because of the sterility, and waited for the anaesthesiologist.  In my mental preparation for labor, the epidural was the worst part.  How could having a needle inserted into your spine feel good??  But amazingly, it felt like NOTHING.  It was so simple that I immediately asked for a high-five.  This was one stellar anaesthesiologist.

As the warm numbing sensation made its way up my body, I began to feel like I couldn’t swallow or cough.  Unfortunately, the next thing I remember is throwing up.  Apparently my initial reaction to the anaesthetic was a drop in my blood pressure which triggered this reaction.  I was mortified because I was in such a vulnerable and helpless position.  There was nothing I could do to control it and I couldn’t move 75% of my body.  I just had to let it happen.  The team in the OR was incredible, though.  There was a lovely woman named Christina who was right by my side, stroking my face and wiping away the vomit.  Her presence was so calming and soothing.

Even though the puking was embarrassing, after it had happened I felt much better.  Before I knew it, Tony was sitting at my head, looking dapper in his scrubs, and the surgery began.  Even though I was aware, I still felt out of it.  At some moments it felt like I was not even in my own body and was floating outside of myself.  I don’t remember saying much to Tony other than “are we sure we want two kids?” and Tony sharing with the anaesthesiologist what a tough Italian woman I was.

And then came the pressure.  Before I knew it, I felt a huge amount of pushing at the top of my stomach.  I knew from speaking with others that this was them pushing the baby out, and not long after, I felt a weight pulled from out of me.  She was here.

Tony was already in tears and they showed my daughter to me briefly.  I knew instantly she was a strong baby because rather than wailing, she let out one quick and loud “WAHN!” which sounded more like a “WTF??”.  Tony followed the pediatrician and baby and I laid there while they closed me up.

I was so out of it, though.  They brought Matilda back to me pretty quickly to do skin to skin, but I wasn’t registering what was going on.  I felt the tug of the stitches and was ready for my time in the OR to be finished.  Tony took her to my recovery room and before I knew it, the nurses were taking the blue curtains and sheets down.  They lifted me onto another bed and wiped me down with a warm cloth.  I was then in the recovery room, drinking juice and getting to know my precious daughter.  From when we first arrived at the hospital to when Matilda was born was 1.5 hours. The rest of the time could be spent getting to know her.

In retrospect, I would opt to do a c-section again, and in reality I would’ve had to anyway – apparently my pelvis is too small for natural delivery.  What I will say, though, is that delivery is more traumatic than I expected.  Women give birth everyday so I guess I was expecting it to be less formal and sterile for some odd reason.  But between the shots and injections, medications and precautions, nurses attention and blood pressure monitoring, bringing life into the world is some serious stuff.  I truly felt like I was on Grey’s Anatomy or E.R., and I was terrified to the point of shaking for most of it.

Was it worth it?  ABSOLUTELY!  And what’s weird is I am already replacing the trauma of the experience with all of the positives I have gotten from going through it.  Who knows?  Baby #2 may come sooner than I thought….