Gather round folks, and listen to the final chapter of Justine Eleanor Frantz: The Fetal Years.
Part One: A Procedure to Remember
Despite having a week of extra preparation time, there was still a flurry of activity at the house the night before ‘B-Day’ (or I guess in this situation, ‘C-Day’). We had to finish cleaning the house, repack the hospital bag (now a little more robustly since we knew we were staying), change the oil on the cats, etc. Eventually we went to bed, wondering if we would be able to sleep with the impending EOLAWKI (End of Life As We Know It). Amazingly we both slept reasonably well.
In many ways, the morning of the c-section was like a normal day of work for me. I got up at the usual time, took a shower, had some tea and poptarts, completed the NY Times crossword puzzle, wrote a few stanzas of poetry and of course finished my vigorous calisthenics routine. After a few “before” pictures with both of us and Kim’s parents who had traveled up for the event, Kim waddled into the CR-V and we drove to the hospital to meet our destiny.
We parked the car and took the long ride up the elevator again. After the version a couple of weeks ago, we knew what to expect. Or at least we thought we did. Last week, the nurse took us right down to our room – this time they seemed somewhat surprised that we had arrived. We actually had to sit in a little waiting area so that they could “figure it out.” We would later learn that this minor delay was actually the first of many.
We finally were taken back to a prep room – much smaller than the room that we were in for the version, which was in actuality a “birthing chamber” – that explains the claw marks on the furniture. Our little prep room consisted of a gurney, some equipment, a sink, a small shelf, a stool, and a TV. Kim changed into her hospital gown and assumed her position on the gurney. Then we went through the same preparation steps we had gone through a week before – some time on the fetal monitor, reinsertion of the IV (much less painful this time), answering all the questions we had before (first baby? smoker? education level? boxers or briefs?), a “mani-pedi” and a little hot stone massage. After about an hour of constant activity, we suddenly found ourselves alone, assuming that preparation now moved to the operating theatre.
Apparently not. Because we sat, and sat, and sat. Kim’s parent’s stopped by to say hello and ended up staying with us as we watched Good Morning America, and then the Price is Right. Our section was scheduled for 11:30, and as that time came and went we started to get a bit antsy. After the Drew Carey bowed out and the afternoon news came on, we started to get a little more concerned. If we made it to Guiding Light, we decided, we were out of there. I had seen a home C-Section kit online and said we’d just do that. Kim wanted to wait a bit longer.
Finally around 12:30 our OBGYN arrived and came in to say hello. That’s when we found out that we had been “bumped” for an emergency C-Section for someone else. This was pretty upsetting (I had, in fact, sprung for the “Gold Club” membership to ensure that this would not happen, but apparently the fine print talks about such exceptions) but they were almost done and then it would be our time. As it turns out, the hospital was making a Guinness attempt with section deliveries – we ended 5th in what eventually turned out to be 8 procedures they performed that morning.
The nerves started to creep back in as the activity in the room picked up again. We met with our anesthesiologist who once again gave us the worst case scenarios. He seemed a bit more optimistic than the one we had seen at the version. The nurse came in with a funny hat for Kim, and a full on jump suit for me, complete with funny hat AND mask. With a lot of emotion, it was time and they rolled Kim out of the prep and in to get the spinal, while I stayed back to don my scrubs and watch the end of E!’s Daily 10 (Jamie Lyn had her baby!)
Standing in the waiting room, I couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead for me. In the immediacy of course, I knew I was about to see, for the first time, the inside of Kim’s gut. Also meeting my first born child. But in the long run, would I ever be as free and independent as I was at this exact moment? Part of me thought about bolting, but I realized that the valet was probably at lunch so I was stuck. Another part of me thought I should take advantage of my last few minutes of ‘child-bachelorhood’ – but I didn’t have a beer handy and I don’t think the nurses would have appreciated all the cursing. As I pondered these thoughts, the nurse came back and said those fateful words: “We are ready for you.”
I was led back to the operating theatre, which I can describe in two words as “big” and “bright.” In retrospect this should not have been surprising – doing surgery in a dark closet would probably not be ideal. Kim was positioned on a table, her arms straight out from her body. Just below her neck was a large curtain that covered everything from her neck down. I could see behind her 4 folks working on her belly already – apparently they don’t wait for me to begin. I came in and set down next to her, inquiring how she was feeling, whether it was what she expected, and who played Urkel on Family Matters. (It was Jaleel White). She was doing fine – she was desperately trying to move her legs, for the simple reason that she could not feel them.
I was only in there for a minute or two when they told me to have my camera ready.
“For what?” I inquired.
“Your baby is coming out in like 3 seconds.” they replied.
“Oh.” I had heard this was a quick procedure, but geez. Within a second they were hauling me up and I saw everything. Kim’s gut. Our OBGYN. A screaming baby. Kim’s splayed open gut. Of course the camera misfired and I missed the key shot. But who cares – the object of our journey was out and entirely covered in goo. They flashed her over the screen, (“It’s a girl!”) so Kim could get a look and then whisked her over to another table to get cleaned off. Kim was in tears.
I went over to the table to stare at this tiny person, still not entirely believing that it was now our responsibility. It took a few seconds to realize that our baby had her feet over her head. Stuck in the womb with her legs up at her head for 9 months left our baby believing that the proper way to lay was in the pike position. It was the second glimpse of our child that Kim had – and something I think Kim will always remember.
I watched and snapped photos as they put the goo in her eyes, and gave her the Vitamin K shot. They did the APGAR test (9.9 – definitely going on the Harvard application) and then took her over and weighed her (6 pounds, 11 ounces). A length would have to wait because of her current “leg up” predicament. Meanwhile, Kim had asked to see the placenta, which had been removed and put into an aluminum bucket which looked remarkably like the one that I make turkey burgers in. The nurse brought it over, giving Kim a detailed explanation of what was what, etc. Gross.
Finally they wrapped up our new baby, swaddling her tightly into a little ball and then thrust her into my arms. It was at this moment that the reality of the situation took hold – up until now I had felt in many ways as just a photographer for this life-changing event – now I knew that one of the lives that was changing was my own. With that, the nurse led me and the baby out of the room and into recovery as the doctor finished closing up Kim.
I sat in a glider in a room just down the hall, holding Justine as she slept, waiting for my wife and repeating the same thing in my head over and over again.
“Don’t drop her, don’t drop her, don’t drop her…”
