The big C

Before I totally repress the whole experience - I thought I would jot down a few memories from the birth of Mr. Brig.

Thursday July 24th the day before the big event I had carefully scheduled my day so I had no engagements or commitments. I figured since it was my last day of selfish freedom I really needed to live it up. I envisioned something comparable to a beach day that would include reading by the ocean, sipping on pina coladas, eating fresh fruit, and getting a massage.

Well in the absence of a beach, pool, pina colada, massage, and even a decent book to read - things didn't really pan out quite like I expected. I started the day strong by taking myself out to breakfast to Einsteins and Jamba Juice - but was finished with that task by 9am and desperate for something to do. My mind was going 100 miles per hour thinking about the up coming event - and thanks to my careful planning, I had absolutely nothing to distract me. I finally settled on taking myself to a movie (Mama Mia) at 1pm but even that brought no relief. I couldn't really get into the Abba spirit and spent the whole time obsessing about the following days engagement.

When Dave came home from work at 4pm I was thrilled to see him and borderline tears when he told me he was going to go for a run. What am I supposed to do for those 30 minutes? Time inched by slowly and my anxiety and anticipation level increased. My mom came down to stay the night so she could join us at the hospital the next morning. We went for a walk, rented a movie, and made dinner - but none of those things did the trick. Finally it was 12am and I still hadn't packed for the hospital (which Dave had suggested 118 times). So Dave and I threw some things together and got in bed around 1am. I maybe slept 2 hours between 1am and my 4:45am wake up call.

We arrived at the hospital at 5:40am. Even though there was no one else there, we sat in the registration room for 30 minutes. Finally they sent us up to labor and delivery and the nurses could not believe they hadn't sent us up immediately. We were now running behind schedule so quickly there were several nurses, doctors, and anesthesiologists working on me at the same time. I got an IV, oxygen, they confirmed baby was still breech, they walked me through the process, etc.

Dave was up to his usual tricks I think in an effort to calm my nerves...


And my mom really felt like she needed to be close by while the surgery took place just in case "the Doctors had any questions for her." No she is not a doctor. No she is not a nurse. What a character.


At 7am on the dot my Dr. arrived ready to preform surgery. He asked if we had any questions and Dave spouted off all sorts like "what happens to her mucus plug" and "do you break her water after you cut her open?" (These are all things he woke up worrying about in the middle of the night). Finally I was wheeled into the OR room. Have you ever seen a more fake smile in your entire life?


When they told me to sit up on the bed so they could put in my spinal tap I started massively shaking from head to toe. My body was demanding I rip out my oxygen and IV, bust some kung foo moves on the medical staff, and jump out the nearest window. I had an adrenaline rush times 10. The anesthesiologist noticed the intense shaking and said "Don't worry! That is a totally normal reaction!" The spinal tap was incredibly mild (felt like a flu shot) and then I was laying down feeling the stuff work its way through my body. They kept poking and jabbing me to test how quickly the anesthesia was working. After a bit I could still feel pressure from their touch - but no pain (which is the goal). They tested my stomach by tightening some massive clamps on a chunk of skin (imagine a car and a wrench). Dave's eyes got wide expecting me to scream out in pain, and I told them it felt like someone had poked me. I was ready to be cut.

As for the actual C-section I can't give you many details since I couldn't see it. But it didn't hurt with the exception of some intense shoulder pain which apparently is a result from air getting into your chest cavity. They gave me something for that and then I was fine.

Mr. Brig came out bum first as expected.



Brig was out in 5 minutes and then it was on to sewing me up. I was able to hold him right away which was a surprise as they were still working on me. If you look, you can see the Drs. in the background doing their thing.


Everyone asked us what his name was but at that point it was still up in the air. Then they asked what we thought he weighed. I guessed 8 pounds and Dave guessed 7.8. Then Dave proclaimed "whoever is closest gets to name him!" The Drs. thought that was pretty funny.


Dave and Brig took off and I was left in the OR getting repaired. After a few minutes the Dr. said "hey, someone call down to the nursery and see how much that baby weighed. I want to know who gets to name him!" Brig weighed in at 8.1 ounces and the medical staff cheered my victory.

Mr B needed oxygen for about 3 hours which I guess is pretty common with planned C-section babies (since they have no warning via labor to get the liquid out of their lungs). Poor little Brig must have been starving b/c he was sucking on the plastic oxygen hood with all his might.


Nana got her first sneak peak at Brig when he was in the nursery - I love this picture. We love you Nana!


I was super out of it after the surgery. Dave and the baby seemed to be gone all day (getting tested, bathed, etc) and I just slept. I remember them moving us to a bigger room, and I remember my mom sitting by my bed reading each time I woke up.

The first night was the worst. Brig who had caught right on to nursing had a set back our first night and couldn't quite figure it out. It made for a long, exhausting night. It didn't help that my night nurse was WAY too hands on - and would grab and wield my breast and Brig's head like a hammer and a nail. Poor Dave was sleeping on a pull out couch the size of bedside table. He would get up each time to watch me try to nurse Brig - but obviously couldn't really offer much assistance. In retrospect I wish I would have told him to kick the night nurse out. Dave was so wiped out he wasn't much use the next day...so from there on out I sent him home to sleep. (Remember he hasn't slept well since I've been pregnant due to the snoring.) He would come skipping into the hospital after 9 solid hours of zzzs whistling "zipadee do da" and be my perfect little Mary Poppins all day long.


In the end, we opted to stay the full 5 days at the hospital. They had room service, cable, AC (it was almost 100 degree in Denver that week), "free" diapers, night nurses, doctors to check on mom and baby each day - what could be better than that? But by day 5 we were really ready to take our bundle of love home.


After all the birth (and after birth) horror stories I've heard - I feel like I got off really easy. The worst part of the whole thing hands down was anticipating the event. I also wasn't a big fan of the day when when my bladder had 900 ML of fluid in it and I couldn't figure out how to empty her. (Apparently you are supposed to empty your bladder after 150 ML of fluid.) I needed a little assistance there, but we will leave it at that.

I keep waiting for the intense pain to kick in. I only had one day when my pain level was above a 2 - and that is because I tried to be a hero and wean myself from the pain meds on day 3 against the advice of my Dr., the nurse, and Dave. Once I was back on the meds, life was grand. I stopped taking the pain meds after 1 week and have steadily regained my energy. Of course a pain level of 1 million for 10 days would be worth adding this little peanut to the family.


We love you Mr. Brig!