The next couple hours were a blur. We went to the ER, I got a wheelchair and the contractions started getting stronger. I was strangely grateful to be able to experience that part of labor. When I knew I'd have a scheduled c-section, it felt like something was taken from me, a bit of excitement and anticipation, the feeling of my body doing "what it should". So I was happy to go through those cramps, to feel that gross feeling of sitting in an oversaturated pad, because when your water breaks, it's not just a cute little gush and then it's over. Imagine someone intermittently turning a water faucet on over and over again, in different intensities and for a quick second or what feels like forever.
We went through all the registration once we were in a room. All the physical checks ("Yes, you're in labor!" "I KNOW.") and everything becoming very official, and a little scary ("Here, sign this form about what to do in case you might die in surgery."). Then I walked to the OR. Walked. Because life is weird. In my bare feet, holding my gown shut in the back (because sometimes you want a very small feeling of modesty, even when you are about to be laying butt naked on a metal table having your belly cut open).
Everything was different from your sisters birth this time around. Everything was more calm and expected. My OB came into the OR in rubber rain boots. Bright red. I'll never forget that. She's a smart woman, that Dr. Flagg. I remember sitting up and leaning forward, having my back numbed and the anesthesia being put in. No pain. Lying down under those super bright lights. I don't remember the lights being so bright when Lily was born. I had tears in my eyes and was exhausted then. This time, I was calm, well rested, excited.
And then you were out! They put you on my chest and I got to see your face. There were tears, and I puked, which was weird, but you just snuggled up to me and we had time. Something I didn't have with your sister. I could look at your face, and study it, and you looked at mine. They didn't take you away from me. I got to hold you and recovery was spent with you and your daddy, not alone in a room that felt like a closet.