|Birthday girl having a splash-tastic time.|
|Awesome home-made octopus cupcakes courtesy of big sister Faith.|
At the end of the night, I found myself staring at my daughter's smiling face, as we bounced and floated along in giant tubes, down the "lazy river". I couldn't help but tear up as I thought back to the day I gave birth to her, and how differently that night ended for me.
It started out like any of my other child-birthing days. At the hospital, bright and early on a Tuesday morning, as a pre-scheduled induction. I knew what to expect, because I had done this already. Twice. I thought I had this whole birthing thing, in the bag. What could they throw at me, that I hadn't already been hit with the past two times? (Side note, mothers, don't EVER ask yourself this question.)
|Frankie, her sisters and friends, taking a little pizza and cupcake break.|
It was a bit early, but I already felt all of the tell-tale signs and burning urges to push. Men, there is one thing you don't ever want to mess with and that's a woman who needs to expel a child from her body. I calmly, quietly, and very politely asked the men folk to please shut off Live with Regis and Kelly, put down their coffee and breakfast sandwiches and come pay attention to the baby momma, ready to pop. It was time to focus, people!
My little Francesca girl, as I would soon find out, always does things a little bit different from the norm. And that's exactly how she wanted to enter this world. She was transverse (or in the upside down position) and that was not a good thing for me. Because instead of getting to push, I had to grin and bear the pain, while my doctor tried to manually twist Frankie into the right position.
I like to think I have a high pain tolerance. I had all my kids without the assistance of an epidural or drugs of any kind. I've passed kidney stones, (five months pregnant) without any pain meds, at all. But I can tell you right now, resisting the urge to push, with your doctor's arms up to his elbows inside your nether regions, manipulating the baby inside of you, HURTS. Really, really bad. So bad in fact, The Husband, who just got done making plans to hang out with his new BFF, turned around and quietly told him that if he made me cry out in pain like that one more time, he was going to have to take him out.
Thankfully, my ob-gyn was able to turn Frankie, without me having to undergo a C-section or The Husband having to knock him out. After two or maybe it was ten (I'm not sure I kind of blocked it out of my mind) agonizing hours later, I was finally wheeled into the recovery room with my new baby girl.
I dozed off for a bit, but woke with a start when I felt the call of nature. Now, it's normal, hospital-operating procedure to call for assistance on your first trip to the facilities, after giving birth. When a tiny little bit of a nurse showed up to come help me to the bathroom, I knew there was going to be trouble. She was a lovely woman, but I'll be honest, I have eaten steaks that weighed more than she did. Normally, I am not a small person. But nine months pregnant and blown up so full of fluids I was about to burst, I was absolutely ginormous. I was a little worried, but since I felt pretty decent, I thought everything would be OK.
Technically, I made it to the bathroom. I was only in there for a minute before I passed out the first time. I woke up, with smelling salts under my nose and the tiny little nurse, struggling to hold me up, so I wouldn't fall off the bowl. She kept repeating, "Can you hear me?" "Are you alright?"
I reassured her that I was. But I called for back up. There was no way I was going to let this little nurse try and help me back to bed. Because if I passed out again, I would no doubt take her down with me, crushing her underneath me like an elephant falling ontop of a bug.
It's a good thing I called for The Husband. Because when I stood up, and started making my way back to bed, all hell broke loose. I had started to hemorrhage, and passed out again due to blood loss. I also went into shock and well, after that, I kind of died for a second.
There is a lot of controversy surrounding NDE's. (near-death experiences) Some people believe it's a lack of oxygen to the brain which causes hallucinations and that logically explains NDEs. I, however, do not. After pouring over hundreds of accounts of NDE, I just can't dismiss my own personal experience, or anyone else's, off as mere hallucination.
And here's where I am going to end Part One of this blog entry. If you'd like to read further, I will be posting the second half and recounting my near death experience in detail, in a Part Two post. I felt the need to give my followers an out. This isn't my typical material, where I jack around and poke fun of myself. This is something very personal, that I rarely share and never, ever, joke about. And now that you've been warned, it's entirely up to you, whether or not, you'd be interested in reading more.