As a kiddo, I had so many doctors appointments and so many procedures done, that I quickly developed an aversion to doctors. Needles, doctors, you name it...I hated them. I had to get weekly allergy shots, and I always tried my best to talk my way out of them, to negotiate with the nurses, saying "I'm not comfortable with this...can we talk about it?" Of course, that never worked. Getting older, I've not done well with blood draws either. It's just the thought of blood leaving my body, but I often faint when getting blood drawn. So needless to say, when I found out I had to have a c-section, I was petrified. I was scared mostly of the unknown, but also the thought of being awake while they cut me open scared the living daylights out of me.
As days crept closer to February 15th, the fear started to increase more and more. T kept saying how he'd be there by my side and how I'd be okay, but it didn't really get rid of the fear. I was scared. Plain and simple.
Now I know I'm not the first person to have a c-section, and that people every day go through much worse. And this procedure pales in comparison to the closed heart surgery I had at four months old, but I was scared. I had nightmares that I didn't make it through surgery and that something happened with my heart during the procedure. Irrational? Yes, but...I have never said I was the rational type :-)
The night before the surgery T and I went to the Adoration Chapel at our church, and I prayed a rosary, asking God for peace of mind. To give me strength that next day and to watch over Aubrey and me throughout the whole thing. It seemed to help somewhat. I tried my best to give it to God and trust that it would work out.
The morning of the surgery, I tried my best to calm down the entire way down to the hospital. The two hour prep seemed to fly by, and I dreaded that moment when I had to kiss T good bye and walk into the OR without him. When it hit 11:00 a.m., it was time. No choice now because I was already having contractions so she was coming regardless that day. I had to get that little girl out one way or another, and I certainly couldn't push.
I have to say that walking into that OR and climbing onto that surgery table was something that took all the courage I had in me. As I walked in there and saw the surgical instruments all laid out and (being the stupid one that I am) the needle that would be going into my back, I had that sudden urge from my childhood to say "nope, not doing it...I'm not comfortable with this...can we talk about this?" But it was for her. So I climbed on that table and said a little prayer. As the nurse held onto me during the spinal, I just looked at her once and said "I'm scared." I had to get it out.
Of course, once the spinal kicked in, those fears went away a little bit. Whatever medication is in that is pretty nice. I was relaxed. T was amazed when he came in thirty minutes later how at ease I was. He came in, and I just looked at him and was all "what's up, honey?"
It took about ten minutes, as I held onto T's hand listening to him tell me everything was okay and how great I was doing before we heard it. The cry. The most amazing and beautiful noise I have ever heard in my entire life. Nine and a half months of worry, anxiety, prayers and anticipation, and she was here. And she was okay. That's all that matters, and with that cry, I just started to cry tears of joy. I didn't even think about how they would have to "put me back together again" after she was out. Fear was completely gone.
Looking back two weeks later, I still have no idea how I managed to walk into that OR. Me, the girl who hates doctors and is so scared of any medical procedure. But I somehow did it. And you know what? I'd do it again. Because it was so worth it.