Part 4- It's go time.

Of course, since none of this journey was uneventful, the 4th day we were there, my Middle fell off the seat and hit her head on the dresser. In the hospital room. Since it was a head wound, of course blood rushed everywhere, and I completely forgot I was to be in that hellacious bed and jumped up, getting ready to scoop up my bleeding baby. My husband ran, yelling at me, and grabbed her as we tried to stop the bleeding. No rules apply to the inner call of mommy. I told him to tell the nurses to get me a wheelchair because I was going down the E.R. with her and they could either let me wheel or down or I was walking but I was going, no matter what. When all was said and done, she got a staple in her head and was fine.

After 2 amnios, 3 scheduled c-section dates and 3 bleeds, complete with blood draws, IV ports, 4 NST's a day, we made it to the big day. Her lungs were grossly immature the first time around, so they pushed it. I'm glad they did, and at the same time hated it.

Here's where I give you the nitty gritty. To get ready for the big C... they have to shave your business. And apparently they have to use the crappiest razor ever made. And it's kind of like water torture. Worst part, is that it's someones job. Ew. I also had my arm numbed where they had to put in a large line for blood. (this is for placenta previa since blood loss is a huge part of what could happen during delivery)

When we got downstairs, they gave me a shot glass of port a potty sludge. Seriously disgusting. And looks like it. Seeing how they withold drinks and food since the night before, and this is what they offer? Disappointing service from the bar indeed. They also had a little red igloo cooler filled with bags of blood. Just in case they needed it. Remember blood loss for placenta previa, it's not typical that they carry around coolers of blood, just for you.

I got in that OR, got a spinal in my back, and flipped back onto the tiniest board in the planet. Definatley not an "one-butt-cheek-fits-all" kind of table.

The rest of the surgery is kind of surreal. I felt the cutting... not the pain, but could feel the pressure and movement. Like being drawn on. It was creepy and about sent me into a thousand panic attacks. My head was in the anesthesiologists crotch, my arms were strapped down, open like on a cross, oxygen in my nose, an IV in both arms, blood pressure cuff. I was feeling like a hot mess and really bad science experiment. I contemplated calling Frankenstein and saying "dude, I know how you feel...".

They told me I would feel pressure, and then I heard her. She cried and I stared at the ceiling. Then she stopped and I asked if they had taken her out of the room. Nope she was there, just relaxing while they checked her out. They had told me if they asked my husband to leave, that meant things were going badly. As in bleeding. As in hysterectomy or worse. I kept glancing at my husband and asked him to go take a picture of her, so I could see her. They had not lifted her up, but I understood they needed to be quick in doing their job. It was a long few minutes while they worked, while he was taking pictures, and then showed them to me on the LCD screen of the camera. And then, I realize they were joking. With my husband about golf and chinese food as they stapled my stomach back up 25 times. It was all so fitting. We laughed our way in, and laughed our way out.

In recovery, I held her, and they plopped a huge orange trashbag on my feet. "It's your placenta. We're sending it out, but we always do." If I could have moved my feet, I would have kicked it. And punched it. And thanked it for holding on the way it did, even though it was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

We did it, her and I. From the moment they mentioned stupid Complete Placenta Previa, to every shot, test, every worry, every sacrifice, had all come down to this. She was there. Perfect. With dark hair and long nails. In that moment I realized I was so much stronger than I knew, that my husband was and always will be there for me, my kids are resilient, and there are a lot of kind and caring people in this world.