Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Happy birthday to youuuuu, happy birthday to youuu, dear rosieeee...

about this time, 15 years ago, (fading to dream music goes here) i was wheeled into the operation/delivery room crying and pleading with a farside looking nurse to please, please let me go home. i was tired. it was the end of the day - the 18th . the 18th was a very important date for both gastone and me. the 18th is his mother's birthday and also, believe it or not, my mom's (deceased then and still is) birthday as well. both our moms, although they never got to meet each other, shared the same bday.

but it was after 11:00 p.m. when my doctor decided to take the baby out by c-section. i wasn't kidding when i said i felt too tired. i was nearly 41 years old, had been in labor (induced) all day long and besides we were going to miss that important date. so "please please may i go home and think this over. suppose she is not ready to come out yet, suppose she is undeveloped, like no lungs or something...."

it was no use, the operating nurse and doctor would not consider it. my husband wasn't there - he was in the scrub room cleaning up for the delivery. and the surgeon came in the room just in time to pry me from the strangle hold i had on mrs. farside nurse's waist. i was desperate to go home. she didn't seem to be listening to me. i needed to get my message across.
then the man with the twilight magic came in. the drugs. i didn't believe him when he said that the drugs were my answer. that the drugs would calm me down and cure everything; even too tiredness, my too oldness and my too panicked-ness (although i did not like being called a panic) i fought him too.
while he was fitting the oxygen mask on me i was asking "hey how do you know if i can't breath under this mask? you can't hear me breathing, and you can't see me breathing and i don't trust those bleeping lights, what if they malfunction? what if i stop breathing and no one pays attention to me? hey, i'm talking to you. i am NOT a panicker" he didn't seem to be able to hear me.

but then,
"hey wait a second, what is this stuff - oh, oh, OOOOh, what pleasure. i could vaguely hear my husband come in the room and the surgical doctor say -- "boy, your wife sure is susceptible to panic attacks. she had a real bad one. she must of had a bad time with her last birthing experience."

"birthing experience", humpf! i never thought to call it that exactly. i would have called it.....umm, i don't know, uhm how about surgery? surgery with a baby as a prize at the end.

but then...(gentle music playing...and me, eyes shut and feeling warm and kinda comfortable and snug. amazing i was thinking how comfortable an operating table can feel. i was beginning to smile.....i lost my train of thought). well, it was too late for me to feel embarrassed, i was on that lovely night train, the journey that only drugs can give you. and the operating staff played such relaxing music in the delivery room too.

"no", i decided, "i didn't need to go home, i was perfectly happy right here, right now, with nice music and smiling doctors (behind masks) and, ' oh hello farside nurse, thanks for my.. daughter's... bday... party. smillle (for a very long time). then zzzzs.

"WAH""" that was the end of my relaxation for the rest of my life. she was perfect, nice and healthy.
everybody agreed she was a beautiful baby. cuz its true. even when she was 10 months old and baptized by a san diego mission priest who has seen baby after baby, stopped mid head annointing and announced to the congregation, "wow, now this one is a beautiful baby".
so at birth, she was 7 pounds, only. no ounces to complicate things.... just 7lb.s even. even steven.
and oh yes she did. she did demonstrate immediately that she had powerful, working lungs. i didn't mind i was having a sleepy trip in twilight land. i was thinking who let the kitten in here, meowing.

it was a happy and proud moment. gastone had to fill me in on the rest of the day later. he also took a movie of it. there was one part of the movie where gastone was being filmed. puzzling. until i found out the surgeon also films during the birthing experience. he even had his own camera.
if i had been awake, i would have panicked about the state of my hair.
oh rosie, you have made us all very happy in the deepest sense - just to have you in the family. even if you were born 33 minutes past midnight and on the 19th.
happy birthday sweetie. now let's eat cake.


verobirdie said...

LOL, you don't need a camera to make a film of that day!
Happy birthday to Rosie!

Jaime Lyerly said...

Lisa, that is a great story and you tell it so well. I love the soft music playing...and the drug train. Your labels for this post are hilarious! "Happy Birthday Gastone's Mom and a shout to my Mom too."

My son is going to be 13 in a couple of weeks and the most I remember is that I was watching Superman 2 and the 3 hours of whimpering later, I had a baby that I didn't know what the heck to do with.

Happy birthday to Rosie! Cake for all!


Colette George said...

Loved the story, sitting here with a smile on my face. She is beautiful. "Happy Happy Birthday dear Rosie, happy birthday to you!"

lisa bebi said...

thank you for the bday wishes for rosie. i did let her know --- she, like my husband, just doesn't really believe in blogs. - cracks me , like they don't exist.
but in any event, she was happy to get some compliments and well wishes from you all. (here and on facebook)

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