No longer a baby. Wow.
I can’t believe it.
I can’t….
I can’t….
I can’t … HANDLE IT!
What am I supposed to do now? Why did I get my tubes tied? Why this and why that? Why am I asking YOU?
Rosario was scheduled to be delivered by c-section on Tuesday October 25th, 2005. That wasn’t really working for me because in order to have my family take care of Isabella I needed to have her on the weekend. I decided to induce myself at 12am on Friday, October 21st.
I drank castor oil. 2 thick, smelly (unscented my ASS!) 2 oz. bottles of it. That may not seem like much but I dare you to go guzzle down 4oz. of vegetable oil in your kitchen right now. I chased it with cranberry juice and peanut butter. Then I went to sleep.
I woke up at around 3am with my hands on my belly and realized that it was hard. I remembered that with Isabella, the only way I could discern whether or not I was having contractions was to put pressure on my belly with my fingertips: if it was hard, I was having one. I was in LABOR! Or so I thought.
After about 1 hour of having those every 4 1/2 minutes I called the hospital and was told, “If you can walk and talk through them you’re having Braxton Hicks”. Okie Dokie. Labor is supposed to hurt, I know. Convincing Drs and nurses that I’m in labor with a big smile on my face is impossible. At 9am when my OB/GYN’s office opened I called them. The tummy tightening was 2 minutes apart now, lasting about 1 minute each. They suggested I come in. I waltzed in with 23 lbs of Isabella on my right hip and grinning from ear to ear. No one thought I knew what I was talking about. After a few tests I went in to see the Dr. who was basically rolling his eyes @ me. He checked my cervix and BAM! 6 centimeters dilated and 100% effaced! All of sudden everything was a rush.
“Go straight to the hospital.
Don’t eat anything.
You’re in labor and we have to get you prepped for surgery before it’s too late.”
Yeah, okay buddy.
We went home, packed my bags, dropped off Bella with my grandfather, bought a camera at Walgreen’s and strolled nonchalantly to the hospital. All the while I’m calm but gradually freakin’ out. I’m about to be sliced open.
The nurse met us in the hallway. They’d been expecting us for an hour. I was whisked into the room. Jason put on his scrubs. I was poked and prodded and I.V.’d. Dr. Flynn floated in on a cloud of happiness that I just wanted to blow away. I was not ready. I didn’t want a c-section.
Why couldn’t I just try to have her naturally? Well, because of Bella’s birth, you idiot. You don’t want this baby to go through what she did, do you? No. I couldn’t handle that again. I wouldn’t want that to happen again. But it might not. They told you from day one that you’d have to have a c-section because of the complications with the 1st one! What’s your problem now? This is best for the baby! I know. Okay. It’s best for the baby. Jason’s here. I’ll be fine.
I made sure doctor was going to make a horizontal incision (I did NOT want a long ugly scar down my abs):
Well yes, unless you want to be cut diagonally!”
“No!” – oh wait he was joking. Hahaha – no, this is not the time for jokes. Shit’s not funny.
I got my spinal and the Dr. commented on the tattoo at the base of my spine. I laid back. The curtain was put up. Jason came in. The nurses. Then Dr. Flynn:
“Feel that?”
“No.”
“Feel this?”
“No.”
“You okay?”
“Ye-uh, no.”
Time to begin. The Dr. started singing. “Everybody’s workin’ for the weekend!” I smiled. I was told I would feel some pressure. I did, a little. There was a baby crying. Huh? 1:30pm. Jason was called over. A little later he brought a baby to me. A perfect little baby with a big nose and a head full of jet-black hair. A TINY baby. 8 lbs 9oz. The biggest baby they’d birthed all week there. The smallest baby it felt like Jason and I had ever seen. It was over. I was stitched up, sedated and moved to a recovery room. I slept. I met my baby, who stayed nameless until an hour before she went home [hell of a battle with her father that didn't end there].
She was perfect. With hairy ears and chicken legs.
That was a year ago now. Almost to the minute. She still has a head full of hair. The darkest brown now. Her face has grown to fit her nose. Her legs are cute and chubby like the average baby. The hair on her ears is gone, replaced by tiny diamond studs. She has my eyes and her father’s long sumptuous lashes.
She doesn’t walk or even stand without holding on to something. But she can walk along furniture and walls like no ones business. She’s Bella’s best friend. Play pal. Doll baby. She’s attached to my hip. Or boob I should say. She’s half of my heart, claiming a piece as big as her sister’s. I was nervous that she wouldn’t be able to. It wasn’t a problem. She’s still my baby.
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