Dads Guide to Surviving a C-Section

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A fathers misadventures during the birth of his first son.
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This is a different type of story for me. It is loosely, very loosely, based on my first son's birth. However, it is told with tongue planted firmly in cheek. This may be to right time to tell all of you our family motto: "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story." Large parts of this story are true, though a lot has been embellished and a lot more has been made up.

Additionally, I want to state for the record that while I seem to be picking on the nurses in this story, I have the utmost respect for all nurses. I think they do a phenomenal job with the patience of Job. They are dedicated professionals who deserve our thanks and admiration.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**********

Children's stories begin with the words "Once upon a time..." Adult stories begin with the words "No shit! This really happened".

This is what really happened:

We had just found out that we were pregnant with our second child. I say we although women will tell you that there is no "we" about it, that they do all the work. All we men do is have a ball getting the ball rolling - so to speak. But I am here to tell you we men are just as involved as our ladies with the pregnancy. We're the ones who make the late night runs for weird food to satisfy cravings. Were the ones who decorate and redecorate the nursery to meet our expectant mother's changing desires? We're the ones who rub bellies, massage backs and legs, and attend natural childbirth classes. And we're the ones, who faced with the probability of a caesarian section; prepare to accompany our wife into surgery so we can savor the birth of our new child as a family. So I say WE had this baby.

Our first child was delivered by emergency C-Section after my wife failed to dilate over the 24 hours she was in labor. Sharon was devastated because she so much wanted a natural childbirth.

When she found out she was pregnant again, she told our doctor that she wanted to try again to have a natural childbirth. The doctor said we could try but we should prepare for the probability that we were again going to have a C-Section.

This is when my wife got the big idea that if we did have to have surgery that it would be cool if I could accompany her into the surgical theater to observe and be a part of our child's birth. Sharon reasoned that in this way I would be in a better position to bond with our new child. Bond, oh how I would grow to rue that term.

This was 1980 and having a father in the operating room was unheard of at the time, at least in the great state of Arkansas. I still don't know how she pulled it off but she got the administrator of the hospital to agree to my being present in the operating room if we could get all the hospital departments, and all the doctors and technicians and nurses to agree in writing.

This, of course, became my job. I was the one who had to gather all the necessary releases right down to the janitor's dept. (I guess that was in case I threw up and they had to clean up after me). Well, I finally got all the signed permissions and then the hard part started.

One condition of my going into the O.R. was that I had to attend a series of classes to prepare me for the stark reality of cutting into a human body. I sat through hours upon hours of graphic films so that I would know what was happening and would be able to handle (read that - stomach) a Cesarean Section and all the possibilities of what could happen.

Finally the big day came, Sharon went into labor. We arrived at the hospital hoping for a natural childbirth but were prepared (we hoped) for an emergency C-Section.

10 hours later our doctor came in and told us what we already suspected, it was time for surgery. Despite having all the pain that comes with labor, Sharon again failed to dilate. With the doctor's declaration, I swallowed and mentally prepared myself for what was to come.

Sharon was wheeled away for preparation for surgery. I accompanied our doctor to scrub up and get into my own set of surgical scrubs. Boy did I feel important!

All was good until I went into the operating room. There, in the middle of the room, lay my wife on a stainless-steel operating table. She had a sheet covering her whole body and a drape was erected across her chest. I was led to a stool at the left side of Sharon's head. The anesthetist, anesthesiologist or whatever he was sat on the right side of my wife's head playing with his equipment. He was humming a song to himself and didn't seem to have a care in the world. When I contrasted this to my near panic, I decided that irreguardless of what his title really was, to me he would always be known as the GAS-PASSER.

There were two nurses located on either side of Sharon. They looked and sounded nice and professional though, as I was soon to learn, they were wicked and sadistic -- at least to me. As I said, there was a drape across Sharon's chest. It was situated just high enough that if I sat up I would be able to see everything that was happening during the surgery. Likewise, if I were to slouch, my head would be low enough that I would not have to watch my wife get cut into. I decided slouching was the way to go for me. Yeah, I'm a coward.

Here I was slouching, trying to keep to myself and waiting for it all to be over, when I noticed that the drape seemed to be dropping lower and lower. It seems those diabolical nurses were teasing me by slowly lowering the drape. As the drape lowered I slouched down more and more. Soon my head was next to my wife's in my attempt to remain below that damn drape.

Suddenly, Sharon turned her head and whispered in my ear "What are you doing down here?"

I nearly spoiled the sterile environment by crapping in my pants! When I finally got my heart back in my chest where it belonged, I whispered "What are you doing awake?"

"They haven't started yet." She replied.

Thank God I can think fast. I replied "Oh."

My loving wife looked at me and asked again "What are you doing down here?"

"I think my shoelace is loose." Yep, I'm quick on my feet!

"You're wearing loafers."

Again, thinking quickly, I replied "Oh."

After I completed my conversation with my wife I sat back up. Those sadistic nurses had raised the drape back up to where it was supposed to be. They stood there with identical smirks on their faces. I decided then and there that I didn't like nurses and would do everything in my power to insure that my daughter wouldn't become one.

I glanced over at the gas-passer and he was humming the song "Having My Baby", I thought 'Are all these people crazy? That's my baby we're having.' I wondered, not for the first time if he was sampling his product.

Finally the doctor appeared. I wondered where he had been because we had dressed and scrubbed up at the same time. The thought did run through my mind that with everything else that was going on in this crazy operating room, he had probably been reading an instruction manual on how to perform the operation! Naa, surely not!

One of the nurses grabbed a bucket of red barn stain and proceeded to paint a bulls-eye on Sharon's belly. I guess this was so the good doctor had something to aim at. Coupled with my previous thought, my confidence level was dropping.

So there I sat, slouched down so I wouldn't have to see what was going on. About this time the gas-passer put a mask on Sharon's head and told her to begin counting backward from 100. Sharon began "100, 99, 98..."

When she stopped I thought she was nervous and confused and had lost her place. So I attempted to help her. I continued "97, 96..."

The gas-passer said that it was alright that Sharon was now asleep.

I replied "Oh." I really don't know where I come up with up with some of my clever repartee.

With the announcement that Sharon was now out of it, the doctor said "Ok, let's begin. Scalpel."

The nurse to his left handed him a scalpel and he began cutting into my wife. Even though I was slouched down I could still see the cutting motion of the doctor's arm as he started making his incisions. I knew from watching my instructional videos that he needed to make multiple cuts slowly through the different tissues to get down to the womb. So I was not surprised to see the sawing motion of the doctor's arm.

All was going well until he asked for the salad-spoons. Yeah, I know that's not what their called, but that's what they look like. Anyway, the doctor asked for the salad-spoons and reached in and then it happened. Sharon was not a small woman but that doctor had her sliding all over that operating table! I just had to know what he was doing, so I sat up and looked.

It was at just that moment that this, this thing popped up out of my wife's belly. It looked like the Creature from the Black Lagoon and at that moment it seemed to turn its head and look right at me!

It was grey all over and it seemed as if its skin was sliding off its face and body. What in the world was it? Well like I said, Zorba the Goop looked right at me and I froze. Suddenly there was a collective gasp from the doctor and nurses, and then I saw it. Wrapped around Zorba's neck was a big snake. It was difficult to see at first because it too was grey and it seemed that its skin was also sliding off.

The doctor immediately attacked this snake with a couple of vice-grips. When this didn't work, he took a pair of garden shears and cut the snake in two. He then quickly snatched Zorba the Goop up and handed it to the nurse across from him. She held it away from herself like she was afraid the snake would attack her. I couldn't blame her.

She then turned around and handed Zorba off to another nurse who had magically appeared. This new nurse was something to see! She was dressed all in black and wore a conical nurse's cap. She took the bundle and with a wink at me turned around and went to work. I swear I heard the song "Witchy Women" playing in the background.

With nothing better to do, I turned back to see what was going on with my wife. The doctor was busy getting ready to sew up Sharon's womb and it was then I saw all her organs piled haphazardly all over her body. I remember thinking 'I hope he knows where they all go and doesn't have any extra parts.'

I was worried for nothing. The good Doctor simply started shoving parts in where ever they would fit, sewing up as he went. I breathed a sigh of relief when he was done and there were no extra parts. He was definitely better at this than I was at assembling the new crib -- I had had several extra parts. To this day I don't know where those parts were supposed to go!

The witchy nurse finished cleaning up my new son and brought him to me. She had wrapped a blanket around him and placed him in my arms. I looked at him and my first thought was that he looked like a basset hound. His whole forehead wanted to slide down onto his face. I wanted to check to be sure that she had him right side up, but I didn't want to upset that witchy nurse. She smiled at me and, taking me by the arm, led me out the door telling me to take my son to the nursery. She went back into the surgical room and shut the door behind her.

So there we stood, me and my brand new son -- and I didn't have a clue where we were or where the nursery was. Needless-to-say, I didn't know how to get from here to there either.

It was then that my son got the first of several nicknames. I look down at him and said "Dammit, what are we going to do now?"

He didn't have much to say.

So we did what men have done for time immemorial. We stared walking, figuring we would find it sooner or later.

The first thing we came upon was an elevator. We found that we were on the basement level, so we figured the only way to go was up. It was while we were waiting for the elevator that we started to bond. My son, my brand new son, decided to take a dump! Now for those of you who may not know, baby poop -- especially newborn baby poop is very liquid. Coupled with the fact that that witchy nurse had merely wrapped a blanket around my son (no diaper) we both got very messy very fast. The poop was running all down both of us while we stood waiting for that damn elevator.

Finally the elevator doors opened. We decided to go to the first floor first and see what we could see about finding the nursery. The doors opened to the ground floor and we turned right for no other reason than I am right-handed and it seemed natural to me. We walked halfway down the hall looking into rooms as we went. Finally we stopped while I figuratively scratched my head. My son seemed to nod his head toward the door in front of us, and, as we didn't have any better ideas, we walked through the door. The door closed and locked behind us just as I realized we had walked through and emergency exit. We were now outside in the rear of the building!

It was at this point that my son got a second nickname. "Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed "what are we going to do now?"

My son didn't even have the good grace to look at me. He merely laid his head against my chest and went to sleep.

Well, there wasn't anything else to do but walk around the hospital building and go in the front door. It was a good thing it was a very mild day for March, because neither one of us was dressed to be outside.

We walked in through the front door and right in front of us was a hospital volunteer there to help direct newcomers to the proper departments. I decided we had had enough fun for one day so I asked her to direct us to the nursery.

She quickly informed me that I couldn't bring a baby into the hospital. I told her our story, which to this day, I'm not sure she believed. She did, however call up to the nursery and talked to the department head nurse.

As she listened her face went from red to white. Hanging up the phone, my friendly volunteer jumped up and told me to follow her. Nearly running we quickly made our way to the nursery.

As we approached our destination, I saw Nurse Ratchet standing in the middle of the hall with her sturdy arms crossed waiting for us. I will say that Nurse Ratchet was an imposing figure. She stood nearly six feet tall and looked like a body builder. I really didn't want to get her upset, but I was afraid I already had!

Sure enough, the first words out of her mouth were "Where the hell have you two been? They called us 30 minutes ago saying you were on your way."

I thought about telling her I took my new son across the street to get him his first Happy Meal, but thought I better not get her any more upset than she already was. Instead I told her how we got lost and how my son had directed us out the emergency exit. She didn't buy it any more than my friendly volunteer did.

An exasperated Nurse Ratchet said "Never mind, just give me the baby and go wait in your wife's room."

It was at this point that we realized just how well we had bonded. All our walking had thoroughly smeared the baby poop all over the two of us and in the 30 minutes we had been wandering it had dried. My son and I had truly bonded! He and I, or at least our clothes were bonded together. Nurse Ratchet couldn't take my son from me, at least not until she cut my son's blanket off.

She finally separated my son from me and started for the nursery. As she departed she looked over her shoulder and asked "What's your son's name?"

That stumped me. I'm sure Sharon had told me what we were going to name our son, but in all the excitement I couldn't remember. I thought for a minute, I knew it wasn't Jesus Christ or Dammit but for the life of me I couldn't remember what it was. I knew it was a one syllable name. What was it?

"Ralph, his name is Ralph." I finally said.

I went across the hall to my wife's room to wait for her to come up. I could only hope nobody would tell her about our adventure.

I sat in the chair and promptly fell asleep. I must have been asleep for all of fifteen minutes when I heard my loving bride snap at me "why have you got a baby blanket glued to you and what have you been up to now?"

I tried to explain that it wasn't really my fault. I told her all about the Creature from the Black Lagoon, the witchy nurse, being pooped on, getting lost (well I didn't really say we had been lost -- just that we took the scenic route and I especially didn't tell her about going outside) and Nurse Ratchet. Sharon looked at me and I could tell she knew I hadn't told her the whole story. Her look told me that was ok; she'd get the rest of the story later. I knew she would too. I was so screwed.

Things were about to settle down when one of the nursery nurses brought my son in for his first attempt at breastfeeding. All was good until the nurse opened her big mouth.

"Here we are Mom. Little Ralph is ready to eat!"

Sharon did a consummate double-take.

"What did you call him?" her voice rising as she spoke. "Our son's name is Glen. How did you ever come up with the name Ralph?"

I was trying to sneak out of the room when my wife's voice froze me in place "Donald! Don't you dare leave! You've got some 'splainin' to do!"

'Uh-oh' I thought, 'The baby poop has just hit the fan!'

If I had ever needed to think fast on my feet, that was the time. Unfortunately all I could come up with was the truth and I was fairly certain that would hang me.

"Honey, I'm sorry, after everything that has happened today my mind was a noodle. So when Nurse Ratchet asked me what our son's name was, I drew a blank. I knew it was a single syllable name but for the life of me I couldn't remember what it was."

"I can understand you having a brain fart with the day you have had, but why didn't you just say you couldn't remember it at the moment and wait for me?"

This truth thing was looking like it was working so I thought I would continue. Maybe I would get out with my life anyway.

"You haven't seen Nurse Ratchet yet," I began, "she really scares me. So when she asked, I felt I had to come up with something."

Both Sharon and the nursery nurse looked at me for the longest moment. Suddenly they both started laughing. Well Sharon started to laugh. It seems laughing and stitches in your belly don't mix.

She groaned "Dammit Glen don't make me laugh, it hurts too much."

She didn't see it, but my son's eyes popped open at the name Dammit. I couldn't help but smile.

Well there you have it. For all you fathers-to-be out there, there are plenty of lessons to be learned here. But if I had to pick two, I would suggest that number one; make sure you have a map of the hospital and number two; write down your new baby's name!

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Boyd PercyBoyd Percy11 months ago

I wish this guy was still writing!

5

chytownchytownover 1 year ago

*****That was a fun read. Thanks for sharing.

fanfarefanfarealmost 9 years ago
Baby got back!

And uses it to spray-paint your composure. It's a good thing that women have the babies. Cause if it was up to us guys? We'd lay the squalling beasts down, then wander off and forget where we had left them!

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 10 years ago
Great

That was a very funny story. I'm sure most fathers from that era can relate.

Thank.you

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