Here ya go...you asked for it...

So at the request of my fav sparkly blogger, MODG, I need to give you birth details. No not height & weight, but actual details of the birthing process is what she's after. No prob.

Unfortunatly, it was fairly uneventful, and undramatic this time. I had to be there at 7am, with the surgery scheduled at 9am. I couldn't eat after midnight the night before sweet. Sweet, tell a pregnant chick not to eat. Awesome. So I wolfed down everything in sight until 11:30 the night before. So I wake up, take a shower, put my sweats back on...With my first son, I actually got up & dressed cute to go to the hospital, like in case I saw someone I knew or something, I don't know. But this time I said eff that, I'm putting the same sweats back on I've had on for like 4 days. Whatev. And you can't wear make-up there either, or take jewelry. So I was pretty much a hot mess. Without diamonds. Killer.

So I get there, and they show me to my suite. Yes, I said SUITE. Suite 1 to be exact, which I consider the best place in the house because I was at the end of the hall, where I heard no noise from anyone else's room. Perfect. So we walk in, and the nurse hands me a little bottle of antiseptic and told me to go take a shower & clean my belly really well with the antiseptic. I'm thinking, I just took a GD shower. So I, the queen of shallow questions at doctors/nurses/any medical staff really, ask "Ummm....can I use my shampoo?" because you're not supposed to use ANYTHING when you prep for surgery. Just a plain water shower. Of course, I really did use my shampoo & conditioner at home, because I don't want nasty hair in the thousands of pictures sure to be snapped that day. So nurse says "You don't have to wash your hair, just get your belly." Okay, phew. I can handle a shower for the lower half only.

So I go in, strip down, mind you, I was at the hospital in town that I did not want. My first son was born at a larger, more advanced care hospital, and I was really disappointed that I couldn't go there. My doctor was already scheduled to be at this one. So I am LOOKING for things to be pissed about. So I go into the shower, turn the water on...It took me about 10 minutes to get the water to go from freezing-ice-ass cold, to warm. As I'm fumbling with the shower water, I'm thinking "A cold shower is NOT the way I wanted this to begin. This is not a good sign, not good, not good. I hopeI live..."

*For the record, I just got up to go poop, and my butthole bled, and it hurts so bad. I'm pretty sure I have hemorroids. Stellar. The things we go through for babies...*

Anywoo, I get through the shower scene, and come out and tell Hubs about it and I was growing incresingly more weary of this place. I hop into bed (not really HOP) and the nurse comes back to start my IV, and give me antibiotics. *This is where we need to remember that I have not eaten.*

About 30 min. goes by and I start feeling sick. The nurse grabs a bedpan and I sit there with it, waiting to puke. At this point, I'm feeling sick, it's almost 9am, so I'm counting the minutes until the take me back. The stomach issues combined with anxiety was not working for me. And I was seriously contemplating calling the whole thing off & keeping the baby in forever, because I was pretty sure I was gonna die.

So at 9am, a nurse calls my room & says the doctor is just now starting the surgery ahead of mine. So it's gonna be awhile. You've GOT to be kidding me. So finally, at 9:45, they come & get me. (I have yet to puke.) As they wheel my bed down the hall to the OR, I see a nurse run across the hall, that I went to college with. So then I panic thinking, I wonder who's gonna see me naked in the OR that I met in college. I went to a community/technical school, i.e. LOTS of nurses, and even though I didn't go into nursing, I still took a lot of classes with them for dental hygiene. So I'm flipping out inside my head about this, and as soon as they push me through the doors, I'm scanning every nurse & tech in there for who I knew, because there HAD to be someone. Of course, they all had masks covering everything but their eyes, and caps over their hair. So I gave up on that pretty quickly.

They get me positioned to start my spinal block, and there was a surg. tech in front of me helping to hold my shoulders down. This chick was cool. I couldn't see her face, but we sat there & chatted like we were BFF's. Sweet. *Sidenote about the spinal block: it never occured to me, nor did anyone tell me, that since you can't feel anything, you lose control of what's going on down below. GD.*

So they lay me down & pick me up to move me to the table, and I heard myself let out the most amazing, loud, long fart EVER. And by the time I heard it and realized what it was, I was almost disappointed, that I couldn't feel it, because I'm sure that I would've felt such relief! And then I got embarrassed, but figured everyone probably does it, so whatev. Kind of like the time I farted at my hot chiropractor's office. But that's another (embarrassing) story.

So I can't feel my legs & they strap my arms down ("Like Jesus on the cross" my husband says). And in comes hubs, in all his sterile jumpsuit gear. I told him he looked like he was gonna go paint a house.

And then comes the puking. I turn my head to the side, someone was holding a bedpan by my mouth & the anesthiesilogist was wiping my mouth with a wet washcloth. I felt like I was 95, dying in a nursing home. And I couldn't move my legs, which I became very uncomfortable with, and thought about how much that would suck.

So they cut me open, and the whole time the doctors & nurses are talking about a number of thins, such as Joe Lieberman, and why another doctor hasn't had kids yet, and she's been married for 4 years...I guess to them it's the same as when I chat with my co-workers while I clean people's teeth, so it didn't really bother me to hear their political views.

I continue to puke through the entire surgery. Pretty much non-stop. They push about 5 different meds in my IV to get me to stop and nothing was working. The anesth. tells me a little nausea is normal, but in more words or less, says this is extreme. Awesomeness, again. I hear him saying "Give her some blahgitty-blah, that's not working....Okay, give her mish-moshshingtston, she's REALLY sick. We've GOTTA get this under control..." Cool, I'm gonna puke my insides out. I'm thinking what's it like to be my doctor, with my belly cut open and seeing my stomach contracting as I'm heaving & puking. I'm a nerd, so I think that's probably pretty cool to see. Oh yeah, and as soon as I started puking, I started crying. Duh. So one of the doctors asked why I was crying so much & I wanted to say "Because I 'vebeen trying to be perfect for 9 months, and I've only cried ONCE, so let me cry now IDIOT!" but it came out more like "I cry when I puke & I'm just emotional."

So I DO feel my doctor start tugging to get the baby out. The placenta had been in front my entire pregnancy, and was now positioned up top. So I think that's probably what made this a little more difficult, bc she took my first child out in about 10 seconds...this time, she's tugging and tugging, and I can one of my ribs coming out with it (not really, but either baby or placenta was stuck up there.) and my doctor is down there like "Sorry Sarah..." I'm good, thanks. So finally, baby comes out! I heard a little bit of crying but not too much. Hubs walks over to see her & watch the nurses clean her up. My doctor is aware I have a strict rule that I do not want to see my babies all bloody & covered in God knows what, because I think that's creepy, so neither of my children did I see until they were clean & wrapped in a little blanket, like a picture of perfection. So as they are working on her, hubs comes back over & says "How do we keep having red-haired kids? She's got reddish hair!" And I laughed. No, my kids are not orange hair & freckles, my son has a little tint of red, in his brown hair, and people always comment "Is his hair kinda RED?" Yes, it is. No, I don't know where he got it. The mailman I guess. Whatev.

So little Brynn's hair did look reddish the first day, the following day faded to a strawberry-blonde, and is now a light brown.

Well, my baby #1 is asking for lunch, so I'll to continue this, documenting recovery at a later time...Deuces.

You're welcome.