My labor was quick, I was two weeks early and he was breech. After trying to stop my labor (my doctor was in Egypt and the attending physician didn't want to deliver me), they decided my baby wasn't going to wait (ya think!) and rolled me into the OR. The spinal I never wanted turned out to be the nightmare I expected. Not only did she hit a nerve trying to numb the region for the actual spinal, but after three failed attempts she gave up and they just did the spinal. Feeling a needle going into your spine is an experience I hope to never repeat! When they laid me down I was shaking so bad I was embarrassed. No matter how hard I tried though, I could't stop.
They pulled the curtain up and let my husband come in. He grabbed my restrained hand and gently stroked by wrist. I took a deep breath and the shaking stopped. The doctor gave me the play by play of what he was doing and in just a few minutes, (literally) after some heavy tugging and pulling, a wail filled the room. Along with "It's a boy!" followed by "And he's peeing!" Now there's a son a mother can be proud of right off the bat! They pulled him out by his hips, butt first. He screamed so loud, it echoed off the walls. We knew his lungs were good!
Dancing beside me, my husband patiently waited to be given the go-ahead to go see him and take pictures. A couple minutes later, bundled and whimpering, they showed him to me for the first time. When they lifted him up after they pulled him out, it was so quick, all I saw was bloody gooey mess. Here was my son. The tiny being who'd been kicking, poking, shoving and prodding inside me for nine months.
A brief glimpse was all I was allowed before they placed him in my husbands arms and the two of them walked out of the OR. I had to lay there and be put back together, which was fine by me. I was so overwhelmed. My labor had been so short, and I was early, not by much, but enough that I hadn't quite accepted I was a mom again, and this new, beautiful life, which hadn't been on the planet before 3:28 am, suddenly was.
When I was all stapled shut, they put me in recovery. The nursery nurse arrived with a fussing bundle. She smiled and said he just wouldn't stop crying, hopefully Mommy would do the trick. I accepted him and said hello. He immediately quieted. Little hands rubbing at his salved eyes, he cooed and whimpered. I could finally just stare at him. And oh how perfect he was!
Two years later that feeling really hasn't changed. I still find myself just staring at the cutest toddler known to mankind and thinking wow, he's so perfect. I have a teenager too, so I know this feeling passes *grin* but not for another year or so. Until then, I will cherish each precious moment he feels inclined to give me, as he learns new words, dances with flapping arms and stomping feet around the living room and grins at me with little snorts of delight.
Hard to believe two years has already gone by, but I wouldn't trade them for anything. :-)