"Hail most dear ... Cesarean!"
First, allow myself to introduce myself – I am the ginga’s gauche, somewhat Slavic-looking, intertextual husband (who loves his Dad Gone Mad T-shirt, BTW) here to tell you all, I must tell you all, that a new prince is born yea unto us all, on this Thursday past, 16 November 2006 at 10:47pm, by emergency C-section. We went into the hospital (which is now called a Health System, you know) to be induced at 2:00pm, and after Pitocin, a successful epidural (with Baby#1, Joy had two and neither worked!) breaking water, multiple episodes of Bringing Home Baby and Top Chef and some good pushes, the monitor showed consistent decelerations of the baby’s heart beat, which meant that the umbilical cord was probably pinched.
Let the wild rumpus start! In technicolor:
So the doctor came in (stinking of gin ... dadadada Rocky Raccoon) the room to say very serenely, “the baby doesn’t like it. It’s time we took you up.”
Next, a nurse came in and said very serenely, “We need to turn you over onto your back.”
Then another nurse came in and said very serenely, “I am here to shave you.”
Joy: “Can I have a Brazilian?”
(bedum ching! I thank you) .
After taming Joy's unruly mane, they then whisked momma down the hall in her bed to the O.R. while I was trying to put paper scrubs over my clothes; they entered some doors that I was not allowed to go through for prep. When I was allowed in, I was walked over to Joy, who was angled ever so slightly so that blood was rushing to her face. Her body was veiled from the neck down, much like a magician’s assistant who is about to be sliced in two; all the while faceless doctors and nurses were making noise and moving about on the other side. A chair was provided for me, and the anaesthetist insisted that I sit, but I preferred to stand, to which she replied that I had better not faint(!). She then started prodding Joy’s belly with what looked like tweezers, asking “Can you feel this? How about here?” (All very high tech you see at this health system) To each, Joy responded with yes, somewhat anxiously. Meanwhile, they were doing something new on the other side of the curtain, and Joy began saying a little more vehemently, “I CAN FEEL THAT!!” It was the only time I saw her actually a bit afraid. The anaesthetist then asked, “Is it worse than the contractions?” and that’s when Joy said she realized she would feel some things but not to worry.
Yada yada yada – twenty minutes later, I was asked if I wanted to see the baby being born; apparently, no one was worried I might faint any longer. I felt a doctor give Joy’s belly a bit of a shove, I heard another doctor say “I’ve got him!”, I looked over at my wife’s belly, which resembled something more akin to a dissected specimen from a highschool lab, and watched as the doctor pulled out one of the biggest purple babies I have ever seen: 10.08 pounds. 21+ inches long, and an equally massive head that was shaped like a pear. His umbilical cord was in fact completely wrapped around both legs. Joy’s doctor said it was actually lucky that his heart rate had begun to decelerate because had it not, we would have progressed with a normal vaginal birth, but because of his size and the cord position, there would have been many serious complications later (he was also face up, which means the birth would have been even more prolonged and complicated).
After all his vitals were checked and the amniotic fluid was sufficiently pounded out of his little lungs, they inked up his little feet and pressed them on my shirt – one impression makes it look like he has six toes on one foot, something I may use to embarrass him later. I then walked him over to Joy, who was still partially veiled, and she kissed his little head. When she spoke, he would turn toward her too. (squish squish) To this lovely scene of familial bliss, I add only that Joy commented that her brand new baby boy resembled Pruitt Taylor Vince, and sadly, he does ... for now ... we hope. (see image above)
Big brother announced his not-so-wee sibling is “so cute!” and brought him a Lightning McQueen balloon the other day (“actually, I will show the baby the balloon but he’s too little to play with it, so I will take it home”).
Momma and baby are doing very well, and although Joy has a new scar for show and tell, she says she feels better than she did with Baby#1: not nearly as exhausted and much calmer (I think it may be the vykoden). They return home tomorrow, Sunday, when the task of screwing him up really begins.