Now that it’s getting closer to the twins arrival the “experts” tell me it’s best to tell Ali all about the day she was born. It’s supposed to help her get ready, even though I’m probably the one who needs more prep. The only sign that we’re having more babies is the pile of boxes of baby stuff lining the hallway. Either way, we’ve been recounting the story pretty regularly for a while now so why not share it with all of you?
Flashback: March 2009. At 38 weeks I had been on bed rest for a week when we went to a check up on a Tuesday. My OB decided to have his own baby that previous Friday (selfish) so I had to see his partner. My doctor assured me that I’ll be fine on bed rest and I wasn’t physically ready to have a baby (or mentally at that point) so inducing me early would most likely end up in a C-section.
His partner wasn’t as relaxed about the whole situation. She was very by the book and in her book 38 weeks plus high blood pressure equals being induced. When we got to the appointment our favorite nurse, Donna, couldn’t hide the smile from her face. She whispered “you’re going to have a baby today.” The doctor came in and told us to go home, get our bags, eat something and head down to the hospital because we were, in fact, having a baby. I was so relieved to get off of bed rest and to get that jumping baby out of me. (Whose name was “Kaylen” at this point BTW). I grabbed a bagel and headed down to the hospital around 5PM.
We got to the hospital and my husband set up shop in the corner while I got hooked up to every machine known to man. They gave me some medicine to induce me and we let the games begin. The assured us it would be a pretty uneventful night and that they would bring out the big guns tomorrow. When I woke up I asked my doctor if I couldn’t have some breakfast, She said sure. This was the biggest mistake of my life. As a nine-month pregnant woman breakfast consisted of: cereal, fruit, yogurt, coffee, milk and maybe a snack. That is not a meal you want to consume before going into labor.
Around 9Am they checked me out and were not happy with my progress. That’s when they decided to take matters into their own hands. The methods they used to try to induce labor could be in practice at Guantanamo bay as we speak. I won’t describe it to you in detail but I’ll let you know that somehow, a balloon was involved.
After an hour of “observation” and torture my breakfast wasn’t sitting with me. I ran to the bathroom to vomit before I could alert poor Dan what was going on. I just yelled, get the nurse. Wide-eyed Dan came back 3 minutes later saying he couldn’t find our nurse. I screamed ANY NURSE and pulled the nurses string in the bathroom. In seconds, 5 doctors and nurses came running in to make sure I wasn’t having a baby on the toilet. At this point I did have to pee so they all just sat there and asked me questions while I did my business. With the torture that had taken place before hand I didn’t really care that I had an audience waiting to take me back to my bed.
Around 5PM I was only dilated 4 cms so they decided to break my water. I was adamant that no one was touching my water until I got an epidural, which they thankfully facilitated. The water was broken, I was blissfully pain free and everyone was confident I’d have a baby soon. I had one of the most relaxing sleeps in my life that night considering I didn’t have shift my weight every 10 seconds. (Little did I realize it was most certainly my last) Then at around 5AM Thursday, March 26th 2009 the doctor came in to check and find that I hadn’t made any progress.
The baby was doing fine but we’re better off with a C-section. I’m not one to argue at 5AM so I agreed. In that instant a host of nurses and legal people whooshed in to prep me for surgery and get me to sign things. Not by 5:30 was I already in the operating room. I remember thinking "man this is cold." Not realizing I was completely naked sprawled out on an operating table. It probably had to do with the fact that it was still before 6 in the morning.
I was prepped and ready and they had Dan come in and sit with me. I could see the nerves on his face but they had begun the surgery at this point so I was more interested in what the hell they were doing to me than keeping him calm. They say you’re not supposed to feel pain but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel anything. There was a lot of pulling and pushing going on INSIDE my body. I was making me nauseous and I kept telling Dan “I don’t want to throw up on my baby!” Eventually I felt some pulling on my ribs and they told me her foot was latched. She really wasn’t ready to be evicted. They got her out and took her to be wrapped up. I couldn’t see her but was relieved to hear her cry. (The only time EVER in your life a baby’s cry will give you relief.) They asked us what out baby’s name was and I yelled out “ALISON, her name is Alison.” Dan saw the carnage on the table that morning so he wasn’t going to argue. And thus Little Alison Brooke Sater was here at a whopping 8 pounds 10 ounces.
Dan had never held a baby before and was very nervous. Our “birth plan” (more like Pipe dream) was to have me hold her then give her to Dan, preferably while he was seated. Well that whole plan was out the window and the nurse came right up to him with the pink screaming infant and asked “do you want to hold your baby?” Again it was around 6AM so no one was questioning anything. He held his crying daughter and simply said “Hi”. She looked at him, stopped crying and fell asleep instantly in his arms. I will never ever forget that second when Dan became dad (Oh God, pregnancy hormones have me misty-eyed right now) She’s had him wrapped around her tiny finger ever since. (Side note: we went to Rite Aid yesterday and Ali wanted a toy, I said “No” she said, “Ok ill give Daddy a kiss and he’ll buy it” … and he did)
That is the story of Ali’s birth. Hopefully the next one doesn’t involve medieval torture methods. Not to be cliché, but it will all be worth it in the end no matter what.