Finally I had reached the 38 week mark in my pregnancy, and the date for the planned cesarean section. I don’t think there has ever been another woman in the world more excited to get a large needle put into her spinal cord and be numbed from the chest down! I was given an epidural as my history with spinals was rather colorful. That epidural was some good stuff!
For the first time in 16 weeks I felt no contractions, no sciatica and no cramping pain in my lower regions. I was thrilled to be strapped down on the table and opened up like a deer after the hunt. I didn’t even notice the pressure as the doctor leaned his entire weight on my upper abdomen to dislodge the transverse tyke within. I did notice that he had dragged me a number of inches southward as he attempted to yank my little K.C. from her cozy nest, but I couldn’t have cared less.
When the doctor finally pulled her out (bringing to mind a veterinarian wrenching a stuck calf from its mother’s womb) he announced that I had given birth to about five gallons of water and a five pound eight ounce baby girl with a full head of hair. What a surprise it was that she had so much fur on her head… not. She was tiny, but seemed healthy. I was shown her beautiful right foot before she was whisked away for evaluation to the neonatal intensive care unit due to her small size. I would have been terribly put out about not getting to visit with more of her had I not fallen asleep.
That’s right, asleep. After weeks of attempting to slumber through regular visits from the contraction fairy and not succeeding very well, I passed out, far more comfortable than I had been in months. I could just hear through the veil of my sweet repose the entire operating room staff giggling about the new mommy who passed a baby and then passed out. What can I say? I was relaxed knowing every detail of the delivery had been worked out with the doctor prior to this big day.
One detail I was most careful to mention to the good doctor was that I needed to be fastened back together with sutures and not staples. I have a number of rather odd allergies, and one of them happens to be metal. Surgical steel was among the metals that would set off an ugly little reaction, and as it was not in the doctor’s general practice to use 14 karat gold staples, no staples could be used.
The doctor was very careful to follow each of my requests down to the last element. He sutured me up neatly and finished his work with Dermabond. Dermabond is special glue used with tape-like strips to hold an incision together. And that is how I learned of my allergy to Dermabond.
Within a day of the surgery, I was feeling super. I was up and about and enjoying my new baby girl. It was on one of my regular trips to the bathroom that I noticed my hospital-issue new-mommy undergarment seemed to be sticking to my incision site. I called the nurse to come take a peek so I could be reassured that all was well. The nurse took her peek and ran from the room screaming. Well, I suppose in truth she was yelling orders to have my doctor summoned immediately. Yikes! I don’t think I would have been more concerned had I sneezed, sending my uterus through my incision and flying across the room to end with a wet “smack” against the opposing wall.
My doctor was there within minutes. He took his peek and called his colleague in for a look too.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen an allergic reaction quite that… “
“Yeah, that’s bad!” They said to each other in hushed tones.
“So, um, this looks pretty… ah… uncomfortable.” They finally addressed me. “We’re going to start you on some intravenous benadryl to try to… um… calm it down a bit. We’ll get an appointment set up for you with a specialist tomorrow to figure out where to go from there.”
Gee. This was fun! For the next two days I sat with no less than thirty-six thousand tiny blisters covering my incision site, exposed for the entire world to see. My visit to the Dermatologist had to wait until after the weekend when he was back in the office. That visit was even more fun!
One by one, each of the twenty-eight Dermabond strips had to be soaked in acid and slowly peeled off my giant, raging hive. It felt rather like the unhurried, methodical stinging of bees. I have learned from experience that one of the best ways to get through something yucky and painful is to make dumb jokes abut it. At least then someone is laughing and having fun. I kept my husband and the nurse giggling throughout the entire hour and a half long peeling process. I can’t for the life of me remember what on earth I found so funny at the time, but it made the experience less traumatic, somehow. I was able to get some loose-fitting pants on, and I was then released from the hospital.
We brought our beautiful little baby girl home and got all settled in. My husband and I were happy to be back in familiar surroundings and have our little one to ourselves. It would be nice to finally use my own shower and eat my own food. It was great to dress and undress in the master bedroom in front of the full-length mirror and… “Holy CRAP!” As I stood back up after removing my pants, the most horrible site caught my eye in the mirror. Where my thin, white, smiley-face c-section scar from Jacob’s birth had once been, I had a giant set of what appeared to be bright red, swollen clown lips laughing back at me.
My tears quickly summoned my husband who, upon running into the room fearful that I was somehow in danger, burst out laughing. His statement of “It looks like Angelina Jolie’s lips!” did nothing at all to make me feel better. I was certain I would face a life deformed in the most ridiculous manner. Divorce would never again be an option (not that the concept is such a bad thing) as I certainly could not disrobe in front of some poor, unsuspecting man I had only been dating for a short while. “Hey, baby! Check this out!” Eeeewwwwww!
Over the next year my grotesque abdominal lips faded into that same thin, white smiley face it had been before. Now it’s quietly smiling about the joke it once played on me, and serves as a reminder each time I chance to catch my naked reflection in my mirror. Now I wear the bigger smile on my face. I smile because I know how blessed I am to have been allowed to have two beautiful children in my life. Smile!
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