Ezra's Big Day! Part Two...

The kindly nurse weathered the barrage of profanity with nary a flinch or a look.  She informed us that the doctor was on her way (ha) and that we would be delivering by c-section immediately.  Apparently once the amniotic fluid begins to leak, the risk of infection becomes a serious threat so they wanted to pop my little dude out of there.  John and I quickly acclimated to the reality that we were becoming parents NOW.  Not three weeks from now.  Now.  But first I had to endure a scolding from Dr. Grumpy Pants.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaking fluid?  Why didn't you tell me you were having contractions?!  You need to call when events like these occur!"

See previous post to understand why my baby doctor is an ignorant jackass.

I will say this for her; despite her woefully inept bedside manner she did one heck of a job delivering my son.  He arrived in this world safe and sound, hollering up a storm.  He was perfect.  Plus, as a benefit, the incision was quite small and soon I will have no scar at all.  And fortunately after she was done bringing him into the world, she sort of disappeared and I didn't have to deal with her anymore.  Which is good, because I think secretly John wanted to take a swing at her.  She was a touch on the abusive side for a woman who brings life into the world as a career.

We remained in the hospital for four days, during which time my main memories are: eating copious amounts of jello cups, working tirelessly to get my "lazy sucker" to latch on, and keeping the nurses honest about being on schedule with my pain meds.  One such nurse innocently replied, "Oh don't worry, I have it all written down and I will make sure you receive your meds on schedule.  I heard when I came on you don't want them to be even one minute late!"  Let me just explain something for a second; I'm not trying to be a hero.  Had I given birth naturally, I wanted every drug available to me so I didn't feel pain.  Since I had a c-section, I wanted those drugs and then some.  I didn't need to "feel" any great discomfort to feel like a real mom.  I deemed it highly unnecessary that I should suffer even a moment of agony to confirm that I had entered into that magical journey of motherhood.  I feel pretty comfortable in my belief that Ezra isn't going to appreciate me more in his teen years because I turned down a Percocet.  

Side note: Caught up in the excitement of the moment, John was swindled into looking over the barrier sheet to see the doctor yanking out our boy one leg at a time.  This was not a good choice by my John.  The PTSD seems to be improving, but he has his moments still.

Finally, at 9:20 AM December 14, 2011, Ezra Roland Terpening entered the world.  My reaction was a lot like seeing my pregnancy test turn positive.  I didn't cry, laugh,  or scream.  I looked over to where he was being measured and weighed and was overcome with awe.  This perfect slimy underweight little boy was mine.  He was squawking like a pterodactyl and pretty pissed off to have been abruptly removed from his warm comforting home.  Since I didn't have control of my arms due to shock caused by the spinal block, he was wrapped up tightly and handed to John.  He quieted immediately and it was clear he knew where he belonged.  I watched from the operating table as my husband silently fell in love with his son.  To make use of a horribly cliched phrase, moments like those are as rare as shooting stars, but when you see them, you know you have experienced something magical and special.

Mommy comes out of her stupor after a few minutes and meets her baby boy.  It's love at first sight.

Daddy dutifully practicing kangaroo care.