Momma has lost her mind.

A Bikini Cut And The Crack-Head Shakes.


Early on in my first pregnancy, I would joke about how I would gladly be cut open instead of have my vagina blown out by a 7 pounder. However, the truth is, when I was told I had to have a cesarean, I cried like a baby.

It was less than a week away from my due date and I had gone for my weekly check-up. My doctor put his hand on the top of my belly and immediately led me to the ultra sound room. He then, with an annoying, nonchalant manner, requested that I come in to his office. He sat across from me and told me that my daughter was breech and that we would schedule a cesarean three days from now.

Before I said anything, I started to ugly cry. I don’t really know why, other than I just immediately felt robbed of something I was deathly afraid of to begin with. I was even more petrified now.

My unborn daughter refused to let someone else pick her birthday. I went in to labor the day before I was scheduled. My poor doctor had to cancel his golf plans. Pity.

After settling in (several painful attempts at an IV, catheter and small talk), people were somewhat scrambling to fit me in to the OR. I started to panic. It was one of those, I’m scare and I want my Mommy moments…only my Mom can’t hold my hand from heaven. Thank God for my husband, who refused to go to work the day before I was scheduled because he, “had a feeling”. This is the same man who woke me up that morning to the scent of Lysol, due to nesting like a crazed she-man.

Out of no where, nurses started pouring in to my room and I was wheeled away to the OR. My husband had to hang back until right before they cut me {cringe!}. Shortly after, the anesthesiologist came in and read me the if-you-die-it’s-not-my-fault waiver. He then had me sit up and hunch over as he completed the spinal block. A little prick my ass! That shit hurt and him telling me not to move made me want to cry harder and punch him in the jugular.

They laid me down and then this guy starts asking me “can you feel this, can you feel this, can you feel this?” I was so freaked out because I kind of could and kind of couldn’t! I just felt like I was failing his stupid test and I was going to feel the doctor slicing my skin! Finally, the doc said, “hey, do you feel this?” and I asked, “feel what?” Apparently, I was good because he was pinching my leg as hard as he could.

At this point, I am flat on my back and my arms are strapped down. It’s perhaps the most vulnerable, terrifying position ever.

I have a blue curtain hanging by my face to prevent me from seeing my body being pulled open and organs shifted around. That would be great except, if I looked straight up, I could see the reflection of what was going on, in the big light fixture that was not being used at the moment. If I looked to the right, I saw a tube that my blood was rushing through.

Again, thank God for the man sitting on my left. It was his face and his voice, that I focused on. That was the only thing that kept me calm, as I felt my body being pulled and jerked around. I couldn’t feel the pain but I felt what I knew they were doing to me. Again, just awful.

My daughter was pulled from my womb and marked her presence with a dainty little cry. They cleaned her up and brought her over so I could see her. My reaction was, “Oh my God, she is so beautiful!” I laugh when I think of this because it was actually quite a shallow reaction. I was psyched she didn’t have the cone-head, gooey, newborn look to her.

My experience wasn’t over yet though. Even though the hubs left to go be with the baby, I still had to be put back together. It was the oddest thing to hear two doctors, on opposite sides of me, discussing their summer plans, as they were literately closing up my body. Bizarre. When they were done, a nurse took the blue sheet down. I was immediately mortified. My doctor was wearing, what my memory now swears was a butcher’s apron, and it looked like he had just slaughtered a warehouse full of cows.

After spending an hour in recovery, by my self, where nurses chatted about hospital politics, while throwing around my numb body to clean me up (it was just awkward), I was finally taken back to my room. Here’s the thing though. I got, what I have dubbed, the crack-head shakes. For some reason, some people get real shaky after a spinal. I was one of those people. Someone should have warned my sister. As I am being wheeled in, she starts freaking out because her baby sister looks like she’s having a crack-attack.wiggle your toe

My crack-attack started to fade eventually and within a few hours, my legs were warm and tingly. Not in a I-just-had-great-sex kind of way, but more of a did-I-just-piss-myself kind of way. I kept trying to will my big toe to wiggle like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. Shit didn’t work that way.

It all being said and done, I got to hold and breast feed my tiny, baby girl and all was right with the world.

Going in to have my second child, I thought knowing what I knew, the C-section would be easier. It wasn’t. I was scared and panicky the minute I walked in to the hospital.

Natural childbirth is painful I know, but it’s natural. There is something about being cut open to bring your baby in to the world, that makes you feel a little robbed. I think most women (most I know anyway) pray for a cesarean when they find out they are pregnant because they are petrified of jacking up their lady parts and afraid they won’t survive the pain.

There is absolutely nothing glorious about a cesarean, except the end result of course. It’s scary, it’s cold, it’s not natural and the recovery is slow and painful. I still cringe (not lying) to this day when I hear a staple gun. Yes, they used fucking staples to close me up! It isn’t as easy as a conveniently, scheduled due date that avoids wrecking havoc on your body. My feet hitting the floor the next day was a stabbing pain that made me want to bunt sweet baby Jesus.

So to the women who don’t have children yet or are currently pregnant: Do not wish for a C-section. Our lady parts are fucking awesome and can handle it. I never understood what the big deal about C-sections was, until nature demanded that I have one.

In the end, all that matters is that I had a healthy baby girl, who will be five years old in less than a month (Wow!). But truth be told, I get a bit jealous in a room full of women, hyped up on birthing stories.










37 thoughts on “A Bikini Cut And The Crack-Head Shakes.”

  1. Holy Crap! I had no idea that a mother was alert during a C-section! (I know, I have been living under a rock). Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe it! Funny enough, I *have* a c-section from my hysterectomy. Thank god I was knocked out. I don’t think I could have recovered mentally from the ordeal you just described!
    BTW – after dental surgery I had a minor “crack-attack” – and I asked the dentist to explain it. Apparently the anesthetic is mixed with a stimulant (caffeine, I believe) to help move the drugs along through your bloodstream. That I know. Childbirth, not a thing. …eesh!

    1. Oh yes ma’am. You are pretty much wide awake, hearing and somewhat feeling, what they are doing. It’s awful. I seriously cringe when I think about it.

      I’m so glad someone else understands what the hell a crack-attack feels like. Crazy, right? Lol…thanks for reading 🙂

  2. Ugh! So, sorry that this is your daughter’s birth story. Even when a Caesarian is necessary, it shouldn’t have to be like that. I don’t think you really experienced the care and kindness that you should have. It’s consoling to know your husband was such a support.

    1. Thanks girl. And yeah, first pregnancy as a whole was a mess. That was just the topping on the cake. I’m not one of those “OMG I LOVE BEING PREGNANT” kind of girls. I love what the result of it is but…

      My second experience was much better and the anesthesiologist (thank god for spell check on that one, not gonna lie) was American and super cute. Much better than the DB I got last time that barely spoke English, and had horrible breath.

      I may be a little bit bitter about the experience. sorry! lol. Thanks for reading 🙂

  3. Wow! Next time the other mommies are telling their stories, break this one out with full embellishments, sound effects and body language.
    That’ll hush em!

    1. Haha…it usually does. I usually get a least one look of utter horror. It’s great. 🙂 Thanks for checking this one out Guapo!

    1. Hey TD…wasn’t sure I was going to get any male readers on this one. lol…props for not immediately looking away. 🙂

      My second C-section was at a different hospital with a different group of doctors and it was MUCH better. As better as that process can be anyway.

      1. Is that all I am to you Twindaddy?…a Mommy blogger?? lol …if I knew how to do an emoticon with it’s tongue sticking out at you I would.

  4. This may not be the reaction you were looking for, but you had me laughing out loud even as I learned what this was like in a very personal way. I like you already. In fact, if that husband of yours ever screws up, call me. 🙂

    1. Ha. You’re funny. 🙂 And don’t feel bad at all about laughing. That’s telling me I did something right. I didn’t want it to be a horrific, birthing story that freaked people out. So thanks for reading and laughing 🙂

  5. how ever you get your baby is good with me, but i never had 3 vag births and never once wanted a c section. they scared me more. and after reading this, i’m still scared. haha

    1. I questioned whether I should start out with such a bold, possibly TMI statement but it made me laugh, so I went with it 🙂 I actually meant to write this in the story but forgot…I never saw a C-section before I had one. I was addicted to A Baby Story on TLC when I was pregnant with my first but would just delete the ones where the woman had a cesarean. I never watched a single one…that’s how naïve I was when it came to thinking “well I’m not having one.” Well life sure showed me, huh!

  6. I would have passed out. At least 20 times through all of this. omg. It doesn’t matter how the baby gets here as long as they do, honestly. But wowski. I was laughing with you in parts but my eyes were like clockwork orange being reprogrammed eyes as I read this. PS–bunting baby jesus… lolololololol

  7. Whoa, that’s some pretty graphic journey into the wonderful world of C-sections. “If-you-die-it’s-not-my-fault waiver”—classic!

    But hey, congrats on your healthy five-year-old! Makes it all worth it, eh?

    1. It does. But I’m all set with two.. That’s for sure. Sorry for the graphic nature of the post but without those details, it doesn’t do the experience justice!

    1. It is pretty surreal. But don’t let that scare ya. I have a scar and stretch marks to show for it, but they make for great stories 🙂

  8. This was a good story. I don’t have any kids but I one day will and I’ve never, ever wanted a C-section. I feel like you never come back for it. My mom had me vaginally and my younger brother through C-section. She was never able to get rid of the weight. Some women can, some can’t, but it don’t want to be part of the “can’t”.

    1. I don’t wish a C-section on anyone. The weight aside, the recovery is awful, especially if you breastfeed. Had my doctor every paid enough attention to my pregnancy, it would have known a lot sooner my daughter was breech, and perhaps could have worked with me to flip her. Lesson here…get a doctor you trust!

  9. This reaffirms my desire to never have children. The notion of being pregnant with all its ‘fun’ for 9 months already deters me. Giving birth? Having a child possibly cut out of me? No thank you. I’ve seen enough families and friends go through it. Yes, the child is worth it; but, unless I have a child, it isn’t. I’ll stick with being the awesome aunt!

  10. There were so many moments in this that grabbed me and held on, like this one: “Before I said anything, I started to ugly cry. I don’t really know why, other than I just immediately felt robbed of something I was deathly afraid of to begin with.” Beautiful.
    I had a grueling labor with my first son and lost a lot of blood. I could barely walk to the bed after, which was something I had never counted on. For years after that, I’d see friends’ birth pictures on Facebook where they’d look all rosy-cheeked like they’d just gone for a vigorous walk. I was so jealous. In my birth photos, I look like I just got hit by a truck. 😉

    1. I look horrendous in my first photos with both of my kids. I don’t mean to hate on people but I will. When I see those pictures your talking about on FB, I want to de-friend a bitch! It’s not natural to be adorable after having another human being pulled from your vagina or gut. It’s just not.

      Thanks so much for reading and your kind words about this post.

  11. Oooooh gosh. Scare me even more, why don’t ya! Just kidding.
    I’ve been around for a gillion birthing stories and actual births but I’ve never heard a cesarean story quite like this! I don’t think the image of the doctor with his butcher’s apron will leave me anytime soon 😉
    I’m glad it all worked out though and that you got a happy healthy baby 🙂 I love the shallow reaction when you saw her– that would totally be mine too, haha.

    1. I wish I could say I made the part about the doctor’s clothes/apron being covered in blood up, but I can’t.

      I seem to have scared the shit out of a whole lot of childless women with this one! haha That was never my intent but I can see how that happened.

      There was a part that I cut out because it felt out of place, but I’ll share with you … As I was writing the part about having my arms strapped down, it reminded me how in that moment, I thought about the psych patients in restraints and how vulnerable and frightening it is. Perhaps it’s odd that my mind went there, but it did.

      Don’t be skerd Aussa, just make sure when you do decide to have a baby and become addicted to A Baby Story, like every woman I know, you don’t skip the ones where the woman has a C-section, like I did. Either that or at least read about them or something! (and not just my horrible story.) I was so unprepared, hence the ugly crying going on.

      1. Oh I’m sure that regardless of how my children come into this world (vaginal, cesarean, adoption) I will do all sorts of ugly crying. It’s kind of my thing.

        I thought of psych patients when I read the part about your arms being strapped down! That’s freaking terrifying, I would NOT have been able to handle that 😦 I can see why they do it but gah… trauma.

    1. I can understand that for sure. So isn’t it odd then, even after writing about this truly awful experience, I feel privileged to have had it. …to be of the sex that gets to bring these beautiful little monsters in to the world?!

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