It all happened on Wednesday, June 27th of last year...
My water had broken.
My placenta was shot (Too much detail? Too much detail.).
My epidural was in place.
My labor was progressing.
And then Chica's heart rate tanked, and within one minute, I had a hive of nurses and doctors swarming around me.
I was rushed to the OR--which was prepped and ready to go, complete with an OBGYN scrubbed and ready, for someone else's scheduled cesarean.
But I hijacked it.
Or more accurately, Chica hijacked it, since she decided she was just ready to get. out. right. then (must've been that shot placenta). And that scrubbed and ready-to-go OB started my surgery until my own doc rushed into the OR a couple of minutes later. And together they delivered my beautiful bundle while some other very pregnant and ready-to-deliver woman had to wait.
Well, today, I met that woman! (And apologized, for the record).
She's a nurse in my OBGYN's office. How crazy is that? And she delivered her own little girl (named Charlotte) just an hour after Chica's hijacking. So at least the poor woman didn't have to wait too long.
I love that I now have a visual of that woman. And I doubly love that she and I probably made hunched over, post-surgery laps around the maternity ward in the days after our operations. All while our beautiful daughters hung together in the nursery.
:)
P.S. These pictures have nothing whatsoever to do with cesareans, birth buddies, or anything at all related to this post. They're just funny.
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