Part Two: And then, there He was.

Our alarms went off early. Like 4:15 am early.
It might have been one of the few times I had no problem getting up with my alarm.
I curled my hair. Put on my make up. It felt surreal that I was getting ready to meet my son.
I kept rubbing my belly. Staring at it in the mirror. I was both so ready to be done and not quite ready to let go.

And then it was time to be there. And we hadn't left yet. In true our style, we were 10 minutes late.

 As we walked up to the nurses station to check in, a friend from church that I've known for years was the first face I saw.
She jumped up to hug me, excited that her shift allowed her to be there for me. I was shown to my room, nervously bantering with the nurses, answering their questions, getting my IV in and my gown on. I had told my parents not to come until later, but they showed up early with coffee and it was so good to have them there to chat with as we had quite a bit of time to kill.

My dear sweet friend Ginnie had offered to come and photograph the day and showed up early as well. The hospital I delivered in only allows one support person in the OR, but there is still so much to document. I could not have picked a better person to be my eyes that day. She saw the day as I could only have imagined in my dreams. She captured moments that I was not present to see, and moments that I am in awe were even able to be captured. Thank you does not seem adequate enough for the gift she gave me.

The anesthesiologist came in. As did my doctor. The time was getting closer and I started to get nervous. My doctor was growing impatient, it's 7:01, he said, why are we not in the OR yet? I started to bite my tongue, but instead spoke up, "Can I have a minute?" They all nodded and left me alone with my family. I need to pray. To lift up what was about to happen to the creator of it all. I needed my doctor and nurses to know that while yes, I trusted them, ultimately this day was being directed by my God. My dad choked out a prayer. I hugged my mom and dad. And then it was show time.

My doctor, whom I deeply respect and appreciate, wasn't waiting for nurses to do their job, he got behind the gurney and started to push me towards the OR. Nurses gasped, "Doctor, you should let nurses do that". He shrugged them off and kept pushing. I love that he's a doer.

And then I was wheeled into where Ginnie could no longer follow. Where Scott had to sit outside the doors and wait until they were ready for him.

The anesthesiologist came in and did his thing.
 As I lay on my side, waiting for the needle, my son moved around. I closed my eyes and began to cry.
The nurse held my hand,
"it'll be over in just a minute, squeeze my hands"
"No, that's not it, I'm just feeling my son move in me for the last time..."

I cried again. She wiped away my tears. She began talking about her family, her kids, her sons graduation. At first I was confused, what the heck?! I don't care?! But then I realized, she was doing her job. My spinal was done and I had hardly felt it. I smiled and thanked her. My legs went warm.

One last kick of my son from within and my body went warm. 

The minutes seemed to drag by. I could hear the nurses, counting instruments, sponges, running through their check lists. Applying tape, drapes, setting up. And then my doctor all scrubbed and masked came in. He began testing my level of numbness, talking to me, to the nurses. The anesthesiologist had warned me that it might feel as though I couldn't breathe because the spinal tap causes the muscles around the lungs to relax, but that I could, in fact, breathe. But sure enough breathing was laborious and I felt like I couldn't catch my breathe. He gave me the nasal oxygen tube and I immediately felt better. They brought Scott in and my doctor gave me the warning, "okay, we're just a few minutes from baby being here, you're going to start feeling a lot of tugging and pressure."

I always hate that part.

It doesn't hurt. It's just intense.  I closed my eyes and cried. And mouthed the words

There is power, in the name of Jesus.
There is power, in the name of Jesus.
There is power, in the name of Jesus.
He breaks every chain, breaks every chain, breaks every chain.

And then the pulling and tugging got really intense and I heard my doctor say, "almost there."

And then there was a big breath in the room, as if everyone paused,
and then my body went limp and I heard "He's out!"
Followed by big, healthy crying.

The anesthesiologist reached over me and lowered the curtain and for the first time I was able to glimpse my son all still ooey and gooey right as he was pulled out of me. It was amazing.

Scott walked away from me to go and cut the cord. I waited to hear how big he was.

Seven pounds, 3 ounces. Our biggest. :)

Protocol is that c-section babies are quickly taken to the nicu for warming and testing for the hour or two after surgery, while the mom is in recovery. Both my older boys, given their emergency births were taken practically immediately, with mere seconds of seeing them. 

Scott returned to sit next to me and so did the nurse and did something I did not expect, she laid him on my chest. I was ecstatic. And it was perfect.