And the countdown to 10...continues...Part 6

Part 6: I'm all for jokes...but really, is this the time??

Once I was firmly situated on the operating table I began to feel really, really...REALLY nervous.  I know it sounds like a moment of brilliant retardedness but at that exact moment it all seemed real.  It was like the past 40 weeks didn't even happen.  Like I had just showed up at the hospital and they announced, "hey you look like a nice woman who'd enjoy a new baby...come on back and we'll cut one out of your belly".

When they talk about pregnancy induced amnesia...I'm pretty sure they are referring to moments like this.

The anesthesiologist began to push the meds and they made sure I was good and numb.  I was elated because when I'd had Olivia I had an epic failure of an epidural.  They didn't insert the catheter properly and when they went to push the meds I could feel them leaking down my back.  Unfortunately, the monitors began to signal that Olivia was in fetal heart distress and she needed to be out.  NOW.  So they couldn't take the time to try and reinsert the epidural and I had to be put completely under.  I was the absolute last person to greet the arrival of my daughter.  I didn't want the same thing to happen with my the delivery of my son.

Once the drugs began to take affect I began professing my love to the anesthesiologist...the nurses...some dude that was bringing in gloves.  They figured that was a perfect time to bring in my husband.

They laid out the rules of how he was NOT to touch the sterile curtain that shielded him from a full view of the surgery that was about to reveal the baby.  I secretly wished them luck with that endeavor because I'd been telling him not to touch stuff in doctor and hospital settings through this whole pregnancy and HE WOULD NEVER LISTEN TO ME.  You have no idea how scary it is to watch your husband screw with a piece of equipment that probably cost as much if not more than a years salary.

They provided a stool and he took it...just in case.  I was worried that he would pass out.  He didn't do very well with blood.  Or surgery.  Or gore in general.  But I was high as a kite on pain meds...if he hit the ground...I was pretty sure one of the scrub clad individuals and that random dude with the gloves would handle it.

Then the doctor came in.  He explained that I'd feel some tugging and pressure but if I began to feel pain that I should just let the anesthesiologist know and she'd fix me right up.  I felt like saying, "dude...you do your job and don't you worry bout me and Sarah (that was the first name of the anesthesiologist) will be JUST FINE over here".

He asked if we were ready to go and we chimed in with a yes.  For a split second I wondered what would have occured if we would have said no.  Would he have been all like, okay..."I'll step out for a latte and come back in a few and see if you are ready to do this thing??"

Jon asked how long it would take before the baby was out.  The doctor explained that since their was no distress he could have the baby out in about 3-4 minutes.  I was amazed.  Made me ask how fast they could have a baby out in times of distress and was floored when he said less than a minute if need be.  Holy crap.  He said that getting the baby out was the easy part.  Putting everything back in was the long part.  Hmmmm...could have gone without the last part of info.

And so it began...

Jon says that he remembers seeing smoke from the laser.  I don't have any memory of it.  All I remember is feeling tugs and the anesthesiologist asking "are you okay"..."are you hurting"...the haze of her pushing more meds because apparently I said yes and then the sound of crying started.

Next came the voice of the doctor..."congratulations....IT'S....A.....GIRL!"

WHHHHAAAAAAAATTTTT?????

I turned to Jon willing him to verify that the doctor was in fact the King of Bad Jokes!

Jon looked down at me with misty eyes...."babe....it's a girl"!

I think I actually uttered the words, "stop joking...that's not funny" before finally looking up and seeing that in fact I was the proud momma of a beautiful baby girl.

Garren Jesse....was in fact a beautiful...perfect...10 fingers, 10 toed...little Hannah Michel!

I kissed Jon and told him to please follow the baby to the nursery.  I didn't want her out of our sight and since I obviously wasn't going anywhere...that left him on baby watch.

I got some more magical pain meds and the doctor continued with bad jokes saying first, "let me just make sure there aren't any more babies in there" and then asking "sure you don't want me to tie up any loose ends while I am down here".  To the last one I actually said yes...but he said, "no".

Next moment I can remember is waking up in the recovery room with my nurse checking my vitals.  I asked if I could see my daughter.  I then asked if it was in fact a daughter that I'd had and not just a dream.  She confirmed that it was in fact a girl and that I could see her once I was back in my room.

A few minutes later Jon strolled in all proud papa like.  Feeling drunk with the love of his first born or maybe just drunk he decided to be a jokester.

Me:  Hey...hey...is she okay.

Jon:  She's beautiful. And don't worry about the whole boy thing...doc says we can try again in like 8 weeks!

Thankfully...for him I was numb from the chest down so I couldn't physically get out of the bed and kick his ass.  However, my recovery nurse who was 3 months pregnant herself actually told Jon to, "go ahead and start running now...I'll give you a head start".

He left to go back to Hannah's side and I waited, albeit impatiently, for the moment when I could finally be properly introduced to my baby girl.

A few hours later I was rolled back to my room and in came the little lady of the day.

She was beautiful.  Absolutely captivating.  I was in love.  Everything that had taken place to get to this day just faded away.  I had my husband and two beautiful daughters...life, in this moment was perfection.

When we began making phone calls to announce our new baby we had a lot of "are you shitting me" and "no...come on...stop joking" to deal with.  Even my mom was blown away by the fact that we had absolutely NOTHING for a baby girl and rushed to buy something pink and frilly to bring home our newest family member home in.

Three days later we were heading home with our newly nicknamed Hannah "Banana" Michel Pettus.  I know...super original, right?  Well shortly after birth we noticed that she had jaundice so until we could do the sunlight treatments like the doctor prescribed we'd have a little Banana to love on.

I made Jon stop at the store because apparently my craziness hadn't stopped with delivery and I was intent on buying as much pink stuff for my new daughter as a woman who has just given birth can manage to get her hands on.  Once we got home this pretty little girl would be inundated in mass amounts of blue and Paddington Bear.  I needed something to break up the masculine undertones until I could feminine it up!!

Olivia got the first look at her baby sister when we arrived home.  She had gotten sick while I was "laboring" so we chose not to have her come to the hospital.  First thing she said when she saw her was, "hey wasn't she supposed to be a boy?"

Too tired to deal with another smart ass comment, even if it was from my 5 year old daughter I decided to just pop a pain killer and settle in to enjoy all the magic and mania that is being the mother of two girls....

~JP