That’s what I did.
It was my second pregnancy. My first baby was delivered via cesarean due to some complications beyond my control. When I was pregnant the second time around, with Jonas, I attended my first appointment, where my doctors confirmed what I’d already researched about my body and it’s delivering ability. I chose not to risk what was probably inevitable with an attempted v-back, and opted to have a second c-section.
I chose the date with 3 months of pregnancy to go.
The doctor scribbled it on her messy calendar: June 18th, 2007.
A day that worked with my schedule. One that allowed me to attend my daughter's spring dance recital, as well as a day that guaranteed my mother to be in town. Not to mention 7 days before I was actually due. Which I felt I deserved, having gone 7 days over my due date with baby number one. A fair trade I thought.
And surreal.
I planned. I scheduled. I arranged.
I woke up the morning of my son's birth at 5 a.m. I showered, dressed, styled my hair and even put on make up. Then husband Ryan and I said a prayer requesting courage, strength, a smooth delivery and a healthy baby. I picked up my carefully packed bag and we drove the two blocks to the hospital.
I checked in.
I undressed and put on a gown.
I was hooked up to monitors.
There was not much time to think about my surroundings. About Jonas. What he would look like, what he would smell like as he would be placed in my arms. You know those doctors and nurses, they have a job to do and little time to waste. And, that was okay. I’d spent 9 months thinking about what was to come. I was ready.
After the nurse so kindly rid me of any hair down there, the anesthesiologist came in to visit with me, per my request. I had some fears about the spinal block he was going to administer. He answered my questions and quickly put me at ease. He undoubtedly added a little something to my IV to help with my anxiousness as well. I silently thanked him.
I was wheeled into the operating room, scrubbed and masked husband at my side. "It will all be okay, Morg," he whispered and squeezed my hand.
Up onto the operating table I went. Onto my side, in preparation to be numbed.
"Take a deep breath," I was instructed by the anesthesiologist. Almost there.
Then out of no where I felt a JOLT! My body uncontrollably jumped into the air and almost off the table. I screamed and moaned. The most indescribable, painful, burning sensation shot through my body and down my left leg. I imagine it is what the zap of being shocked might feel like. The doctors and nurses rushed to my side and repositioned me on the table, the fright they felt wasn’t easy for them to hide. I saw the look of concern in my doctor face as she held my legs. She glanced at me and then at the anesthesiologist. What was that? I asked myself. Did I do something wrong? But, the medication in my IV took over and worry faded.
The sheet was pulled up in front of my face and I heard the Doc say it was go time.
Seconds later, I heard his cry. Small and a little weak. Jonas was here. The doctor held him up for me to see and I cried the happiest of tears. Ryan went with Jonas to the nursery while I was tediously put back together and complimented on my good “stretch mark free” skin. Ah, those were great words. I am amazed at how quickly the entire process of a cesarean operation is. Only minutes from start to finish.
Back into my room, the numbness started to wear. There was a little pain in my left foot and I continually asked my nurse if my foot was twisted under my leg. "Nope," she replied each time.
I forgot about the pain once more when into my room came the nurse with my newborn son. "His blood sugar is a bit low," she told me. She quickly instructed me to take off my gown. I did so as she unwrapped my little bundle of boy. "Here, the heat will help him." I followed her instructions and she placed Jonas into my arms and then covered the two of us with warm blankets.
The two of us. Me and Jonas. Jonas and me. "Nice to meet you Jonas," I whispered. "I love you."
I held my new baby all morning, just like that. Husband with me, my mom joining us later with Big Sister.
The feelings I had in those first few minutes are some that I cannot adequately discribe. Pride, happiness, and incredible LOVE. Feelings of contentment and wholeness.
It was awesome.
What about that pain in my foot?
Well, it continued and gradually got worse. The nurses kept reassuring me that it was normal. But, by evening time, I began to doubt. I got that feeling. You know, that feeling that someone is protecting something, cushioning things? Making light of a situation? That’s what I felt. Ryan felt it too. My complaining and questioning eventually persuaded my nurse to page the on-call anesthesiologist.
The following morning, spinal x-rays were ordered and my original anesthesiologist, who was on his way to the airport for a vacation, paid me a visit.
He delivered the news with little sugar coating. I had endured some nerve damage with the first attempted spinal block. My spine was fine, luckily. The needle, upon entry had hit a major nerve in my spine, damaging “feeder” nerves from the middle of my back, down my left leg and to the tip of my toes. I thought that the problem was controlled in only my foot. Turns out, I hadn’t realized until it was “demonstrated” that the back of my left thigh and calf actually had no feeling. The damage had not effected my movement at all but sure enough, as I was touched on the surface, I couldn’t feel a thing. The anesthesiologist assured me nothing had gone wrong, there were no mishaps or errors in the administration of the spinal block. I was simply a statistic and my specific condition only occurs in one in more than a million. He’d been practicing for 20+ years and had never had it happen or heard of it happening, he’d only read it in college text books.
I was told to feel lucky. To be grateful the damage wasn’t worse, that I would be walking out of the hospital.
The most wonderful, blunt neurologist came to see me that afternoon and confirmed what I’d been told by the anesthesiologist. And added that some of the damage would indeed be permanent, but most would heal. With proper nutrition and rest, it would heal. Over the course of the next 20 years.
Again I was told, you should be grateful it wasn’t worse.
And I was.
2 years later, I still am.
Those first months were hell. I’m not sure what was worse, the pain and discomfort or the anxiety.
And now, well, there is still pain. Some nights are troublesome. Loads of itching. No bare feet on the cold tile in the kitchen or outside on the grass without pain. Shower temperatures must be perfect, and shaving is a task. I have regained total feeling in my calf, but that healing has come with even heavier loads of itching. Thank goodness for Benadryl!
Wait, this is a birth story right?
Yep.
The nerve damage is part of my story. Part of Jonas’ birth story. The detail of it scares me it’s true, But, the experience has heightened my understanding and given me a unique perspective on my love for my son. I would do it all over again. I would go through it all again, or worse. If it meant bringing another Jonas into my world.
Happy 2nd Birthday Jonas. I love you.
DeliveringTale by mother, Morgan. Read more of Morgan on her blog.
