My panic attack birth story : )

I say panic attack because my health was never in danger at any time yet I freaked the eff out during my c-section until the baby was out.
Because lets face it, major abdominal surgery freaked me out more than the thought of squeezing a watermelon through a lemon sized orifice.
We found out I'd have to have a c-section about two weeks before Lucy was born.  At my 36 week check-up, the doctor discovered that the baby was breech, so the next day I went in for an ECV, the acronym for pound and push on my stomach in an attempt to make the baby flip head down.
Looking back on it after all we went through, I'm glad she was stubborn and didn't flip downward.
We were pretty bummed about having to have a c-section, because again I know I'm cray cray but Andy and I were both looking forward to experiencing a natural drug free childbirth together.  
But as my dad says, Lucy is smarter than we all think (I'll get to that in a bit).
So I was absolutely terrified at the prospect of being cut open, even though I've never known anyone who has perished during a c-section (both of our moms each had three of them, after all).
My first hurdle was getting over the IV, but luckily I expressed my wuss-dom to the nurse and she numbed the site first before putting it in.  Note to nurses:  it's a nice thought to offer to lidocaine to everyone getting an IV!
Then came the spinal.  It was all good, didn't feel it going in.  But then it traveled too far up my spine, making it feel like an elephant was sitting on my chest and my arms got all tingly. 
So of course I start gasping and saying I can't breathe.  They gave me oxygen and then said if I could tell them I couldn't breathe I was fine.
They were supposed to bring Andy in right after the spinal, but they had already cut me open by the time he came in.  I guess I looked terrified so he decided to sit by me and not look on the other side of the curtain.  That was very appreciated since I was indeed terrified!!
They got Lucy's butt out first, and she started peeing and pooping as soon as she was out.  Then I felt pushing up near my rib cage, and knew they were working on popping her head out since that's where my ribs hurt all the time.
She didn't cry until the nurse gave her a shot, which was about five minutes after she was born.  I was a little freaked out by that but everyone assured me she was doing great.
I loved the look on Andy's face when she was born.  I can't really describe it, but it was a combination of proud, happy and excited plus some other adjectives I don't have the words for.
I was able to hold her right after she was born while they were still sewing me up, which was a great distraction from being sewn up.
Andy stayed with her when they took her out to recovery to be examined and have her first bath.
When I was finally rolled out into recovery, Andy told me the nurse agreed she looked more like a Lucy than a Sophie.  I didn't know it then, but the nurse who was taking care of her would become an important part of our lives for the next few days.  She became our favorite nurse during Lucy's stay in the NICU because she had helpful advice for us when it came to feeding and taking care of Lucy, but also let us do our own thing because she had faith in our parenting abilities. She was also really funny, and shared stories about her relationship with her daughter, her husband's relationship with her daughter and life in Poland before she moved to the U.S.  Some of my favorite moments were when she would not understand an idiom I used.  My favorite was when I said I was going to run to the bathroom, and she looked horrified and told me not to run because of the c-section.  I assured her I was not going to run, but it was just an expression.

As Eva the nurse and the pediatrician started handling her, and as I started nursing her and holding her, she started getting these little spots on her skin that I'd later find out were small bruises under her skin.
She was born with an extremely low platelet count, and was whisked away to the NICU for a platelet transfusion.
The doctor told me it was a matter of life and death for her to have the transfusion and asked if I wanted Lucy to have it.  I exclaimed yes and practically shooed him out of recovery.
I didn't sleep that night knowing my daughter was downstairs in the NICU by herself.  Andy was great and went down to check on her every couple of hours, waking up at 3 a.m. to do so.
The next day, around 5:30 a.m., the nurse came in and had me stand up.  It really wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be (probably because of the drugs) and I was able to be wheeled down to see the baby.
Our NICU adventure will have to wait, since let's face it, she's napping, so I'm working on borrowed time here.