Friday, January 17, 2014

On My Mind #5

The other night my mom, sister, and I went out to Ross to look for ties for James (for some reason I thought missionaries hated getting ties, but the ones we sent James for Christmas he loved and requested that we send more).  Although Brad wanted to hang with George, we took the baby because the kid really, really needed to get out of the house.  Plus he loves riding in the shopping cart.  We had a good time, George decided that toilets make him jump, and wanted to eat everything we passed, because he's cool like that.

On our way home, and I don't know what started the conversation, we talked about my birth story.  In short, my birth story is horrific.  My heart rate was dropping, and my mom kept pointing it out but the nurses said that I had probably just moved and to just change sides.  My mom continued to point it out but they continued to brush her off.  As I was finally ready to come out they realized that something was really wrong.  They basically hacked at my mom to get me out of there.  Every doctor in the hospital was in the room waiting for the moment that I came out.  I came out blue, I was physically dead.  I had been strangled by my umbilical cord, and the process of birth basically killed me.  Thankfully, a very large team of doctors and the blessings of the Priesthood saved my life!  I think I scored a one on the apgar test?  Luckily for the second one (the one that really counts, apparently) I scored a ten, so ooh-rah!

But really, listening to that story, hearing details that I hadn't heard before, I realize how close George's birth could have been to mine if my doctor had brushed off signals like my mom's had.  Each time they upped the pitocin, George's heart rate would drop or jitter.  The nurses noticed and they lowered my dosage.  They never let him stay in distress, they watched him so carefully.  And so when he came out with this big ol' bruise on his tiny head and that umbilical cord wrapped around his throat, I did realize how close he could have come to dying.  My story is so miraculous, I shouldn't have lived.  My mom's friend who was in the hospital that night with a labor scare heard nurse's talking about "the baby who scored a one on the apgar test and still lived".

It just makes me think:  what if?  What if they had made George come naturally?  I'm just so grateful for modern medicinal practices and knowledgeable doctors like Dr. Later who are educated enough to make decisions like the one he did.  He just knew.  It was four o'clock when he knew that a c-section was needed and by 4:27 PM I was hearing George for the first time.  The swift action prevented George from even swallowing any amniotic fluid or getting some sort of infection or whatever.  He came perfectly healthy, and it's amazing how much of a blessing the fact that there's the ability to just cut me open and scoop him out!  (After shifting all my organs around, of course.)


 


It's almost (only almost) funny how similar George's birth story is to mine.  We're literally two sides of the same tale.  We're sort of creepy like that.  It also makes me slightly frightened that my first daughter will have the same tale as her father... which means twins.  Which sounds horribly painful to walk around with two children in your gut.  One was painful enough.  So yeah, please no twins.  For the sake of my old lady hips.  Please.

P.S. George slept through the night last night.  Like, literally.  He was back to his great sleeping of sleeping from like eight to seven, with only getting up once to eat and going right back to bed.  Yeah, nope.  Slept through the whole night, didn't need to eat.  It's freaking awesome.  Even if it's just one night, it's still just freaking sweet!  Thank you Mr. George!