Just thinking about the fact that I had a c-section. It seems so much stranger now than it did then. When it happened, it was kind of a big deal, because I had taken the Bradley birth class, which treated birth like a piece of art. I was all set for no drugs, lots of breathing, a smile on your face as the baby crowns, and then everyone drinks a creepy cult-like glass of orange juice when it's all done. And then you breastfeed till the baby goes to kindergarten, and probably homeschool.
I did everything WRONG. I am diabetic, so ipso facto, high risk pregnancy. Went to the hospital, took the penicillin, and pretty much because I couldn't stand the pain after 18 hours of hard unmedicated labor, got a c-section. Also, Ivo's head was HUGE on the ultrasound, at a 34 week ultrasound they told me his head was the size of a full term baby. I was all bravado. "NO PROBLEM GUYS. BRAINWASHED NATURAL CHILDBIRTH FOR ME PLEASE." The nice nurse said, totally understated, "And being incontinent for the rest of your life wouldn't be a problem for you?" Flashforward to the hospital, and a blood/tears/puke medley. Ivo came out under the knife with a little pressure yarmulke on his head from trying to jam it out of there.
I told John not to look over the curtain, at my internal organs. He peeked. Fucker.
I'm just glad that it was possible in this day and age to liberate Ivo (and ME) with the knife. Otherwise, he or I may have died. Poor baby. Now he headbutts me with that same damn head. Weird.
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