So as it turned out, the on-call anesthesiologist was one of the slow ones. It took him an hour and a half to appear. Just my luck, but hey, at least he showed up. He must've given my lowest possible dose to begin with, because I still had feeling in my legs. This was fine at first, but as the transition stage kicked in, I became more and more uncomfortable. I was actually having to breathe through my contractions. The OB on call was fine with that ("You gotta have some feeling to be able to push."), but fortunately it wasn't up to him. We finally got another anesthesiologist up there to turn up my dose. That man is an angel of God sent from heaven. Epidurals are the best. They totally rock. Without them, I'd be buried in adoption paperwork right now.
After three hours at 9 1/2 centimeters, Dr. Wilcox said, "This baby isn't coming. You can continue to labor this way if you want because there aren't any signs of fetal distress, but it won't make a difference. I recommend a c-section."
I'm glad I agreed immediately because by the time we made it to the operating room twenty minutes later, the baby
was in distress. He'd had a bowel movement and swallowed a ton of meconium. He probably aspirated some, too. After delivery, they grabbed that kid and started working on him immediately. They didn't even ask Bob if he wanted to cut the cord. Then they brought him over for a glimpse (I thought, "Dear lord, he's blue!") and whisked him away.
Seth spent two days in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU, pronounced nick-u).
It broke my heart to see all the tubes and machines.
I got to hold him the next day.
There in NICU, they gave him formula, in a regular bottle, and a pacifier! --every uptight breastfeeding mom's nightmare.
Still more photos to come, but for now, Seth is crying. He wants to be fed. :)
