Megan walked down to the operating room with the nurses while Dad and I donned our bunny suits and waited in the room until they called us. Dad quickly fell back to sleep. He had been doing nights for months with their other three children to let Megan rest and regain her health, so I didn’t begrudge him his naps. 

Finally we went back and were given our posts on two little swivel chairs that had been placed on either side of Megan’s head. She had ­already been given the epidural and was excited about finally seeing this baby. They were already starting the surgery when we entered the OR and Baby was born fifteen minutes later. He came out with a loud cry—a good sign, since he was so little. He weighed in at six pounds, ten ounces, a miracle, really, considering all of the problems with the pregnancy.

Joe did really well, too. I checked in with him several times during the surgery and told him he was doing great. Then I went with him over to the warmer where he reached out to his little boy, who promptly grabbed his finger. Joe started sobbing, overwhelmed with it all. The nurse wrapped up his baby and Joe proudly carried his son back to his wife.

In the recovery room, baby Abel latched on immediately, another miracle since I had assumed he would act more like a sleepy preemie. He nursed at both breasts before falling into a peaceful sleep on Megan’s chest.

Her recovery went well. I did a final postpartum visit with her two days later. I had suggested she ask for a belly band, or pregnancy belt, which would both hold in her sagging tummy (which was profoundly out of shape after the weight loss) and help put her muscles back in place while she healed from the C-section. They had already delivered it from the hospital pharmacy before she left the hospital and she was again able to eat, though only miniscule portions. I also referred her to a nutritionist. Nutritionists have a wealth of information and can suggest numerous options for regaining health.

Megan wanted to take her placenta home but Joe balked at the idea. Megan patiently explained the value of encapsulating it and the benefits it could afford her. He got more grossed out by the minute and then flatly refused to carry “that thing” home on the bus in a red hazardous materials bag. She begged. She pleaded. Finally from across the recovery room on my little swivel chair perch, I offered. I knew how much it meant to her. She could collect it from my house a couple of weeks later and I would get to see her baby again. We were all happy.

 

 

 

“There is no way out of the experience except through it, because it is not really your experience but the baby’s. Your body is the child’s instrument of birth.”

~Penelope Leach