Cedric, without The Stitch

Wednesday we went into SF to have The Stitch removed, and to be honest, it was a somewhat traumatic experience. We were excited and nervous on the drive in, wondering how much more time we would have after The Stitch was gone. Bruno realized, for the first time, exactly how close we are to having children in our arms (knock wood), and it was sort of adorable to watch it dawn on him. I, on the other hand, had been a bit of a whirling dervish this last week, trying to finish everything, whatever "everything" is, before the removal date, just in case. On that car ride to the surgery, I calmed down and Bruno rev'ed up, and we finally met somewhere in the middle.

Dr. K visited us before the surgery, and the rest of the team introduced themselves and everyone was full of excitement and congratulations for our having made it to this moment. I was led to the OR, got my spinal, and then the trouble began. I am, in all areas of life, very sensitive. Turns out this is true with anesthesia as well. Whatever dose the anesthesiologist gave me turned out to be WAY too much. Not only could I not feel anything below my waist, I couldn't feel anything below my neck. I couldn't feel my chest. It didn't seem to me like I was breathing. The truth was, I was breathing, but the combo of the cement-like numbness and the weight of the twins on my vena cava lowering my blood pressure was giving me the impression that I couldn't breathe.

I panicked. Completely panicked. I begged them to let me move. I moaned. I groaned. I dry-heaved. Then my blood pressure took a real dive and heard them discussing medicines to bring it back up. I don't remember all of it. I do remember being absolutely desperate for everything to be over, and finally hearing myself say out loud, "OK, Morse, pull it together". I blocked everyone out, concentrated on taking whatever breaths I could and on the in breath thinking, "I love Bruno" and on the out breath thinking, "I love my babies". And I kept doing this until I heard them tell me they were done.

I don't remember moving to recovery. I do remember waking up there still unable to move or feel my legs at all and wondering whether I was paralyzed. As the feeling slowly returned to my lower half, I became aware that this particular hospital bed was shaped like a roller coaster track. I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life. Again, I felt desperate to move. But this time I was strapped in to two NST monitors checking to make sure that both the girls were thriving post surgery. I heard a heartbeat throbbing away having little periods of rest and acceleration, just like it was supposed to. But despite the fact that there were two monitors, I was only hearing one heartbeat.

Before I panicked, I called the nurse and asked if perhaps she had both monitors tracking the same baby, and whether she could move one of the monitors to try to find the other baby. Turns out, yes, the numbers on the two monitors were exactly the same and for an hour now they had been monitoring the same baby. But she wouldn't move the monitors because she was a post-op nurse, not a labor and delivery nurse, so I had to lie on the roller coaster bed, wondering whether Baby B was OK, wondering whether Bruno had been told anything, wondering how my parents were holding up with no news.

Dr. K, who was performing other surgeries that day, eventually arrived, moved the monitor, found Baby B, and another 40 minutes went by without Baby B having any accelerations. I drank juice; they gave me sugar water through my drip: no accelerations. Dr. K was summoned again, used an ultrasound machine this time, and still no accelerations. He ordered a specialist to come up, and finally, seconds before she arrived, Baby B woke up and performed two brilliant accelerations in a row. Oh, thank G-d!

All and all, not the best day we've had. But certainly not the worst either. After Baby B proved that she was OK, just, like her Mama, sensitive to meds, Bruno presented me with a small plastic bag. In it was something that looked like a tie-dyed piece of corn husk. I pondered the pinkish yellowish strand for a moment, and then gasped with recognition: The Stitch! Dr. K had apparently given it to Bruno after the surgery, along with the news that as soon as it was removed, Cedric dilated to 3cm. G-d bless Dr. K and G-d bless that Stitch.

Two days post surgery, and everyone is doing well. The girls had a follow up NST and both passed quickly and easily. I can feel all my limbs and am none the worse for wear after my un-fun surgery day. Bruno is still rev'd up, reading parenting books and looking into buying a new car. And Cedric, dear Cedric, is still holding out at 3cm dilated, even without his back-up band.

And we're all waiting to see what happens next.