Just about 24 years ago… right now, I was going under anesthetic for an emergency c-section. I had been in labor for 45 hours. I was sleep deprived, starving, hideously sick and tired of being poked and prodded, and the only progress made toward delivery was a vague backache and the need to pee every 30 seconds or so. (Surprise!)
The decision was made to go into surgery. I burst into tears. I wasn’t a crunchy-granola-natural -birth kind of person, but I never expected to need medical intervention for a perfectly normal, instinctual process. I hadn’t even given birth yet and I already felt like a failure as a mother. In my fear, I assumed something had to be terribly wrong with either me or my baby or everything would be going smoothly.
The next thing I remember (…. ooooh, the drugs) I was freezing to death. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t get warm and tried to look around. My eyes wouldn’t focus except for a mirrored light over the operating table which reflected back the fact that I was totally naked. With all the mortified indignity of a 17 year old I yelled as loud as I could for a blanket and blacked out for the next 10 hours.
As soon as I woke up I buzzed the nurse to ask about the baby:
Is it a boy or a girl? A GIRL!
Is she healthy? SHE’S PERFECT!
BRING HER TO ME!
That was in 1983. She’s still perfect. Happy birthday, sweetie! Xoxoxo Mom
that mades me cry pants
mom
pants
-- by
Anonymous, at
10/10/2007 6:47 PM