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.
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