On any given episode of ER, there is a hospital bed that flies into the picture with six to seven people hovering about it doing some odd job or another. There are yelling for 10 ccs of this, or run some drip, intubating somebody or some other thing that makes you extremely fearful of ever going near an emergency room.
As Bonnie was laying on the bed, the midwife said these few words "We're going to be doing an emergency C-section. There are going to be a lot of people coming into the room, but just be calm as we're going to have him out in a few minutes."
Moments later, an army of nurses and doctors had stormed the room like the Marines did at Omaha Beach in World War II. People were flying around, hooking up IVs, drips and who knows what else. Before I could figure out what was going on, Bonnie was rolled out with the doctor on the bed towards the operating room with one of the nurses throwing me a set of scrubs to change in to.
Standing next to my mother-in-law, only one of us could go in there. I had been scared of the actual birth since Bonnie told me she was pregnant. It was a decision that called for quick action. Do I avoid watching all the blood, guts and gore (which would send my stomach upside down)? Do I go in there, freaking out because my whole world rests in the hands of a doctor? Bonnie is going to be awake, what do I say to her? How the heck am I supposed to be calm for her when I don't know what the heck is going on?
With all of those thoughts racing through my head and In front of my mother-in-law, I quickly traded out of T-shirts and shorts for the scrubs, hair net and facial mask. I headed out of the room, lost looking for my wife and the hole inside her belly that my son was going to be going coming out of shortly.
I got the nurse's station, found one of the nurses who let me into the OR (doctor talk for an operating room). I took a moment before I stepped in to collect my thoughts. This was helluva lot bigger than me and Bonnie – our kid was on the line and I needed to do whatever I could to support the efforts to make sure he came out safely and healthy.
The scene was eerie when I entered the room. There were two doctors hacking away at Bonnie, with four to five nurses hovering around doing various task, none of which I could figure out in the 0.2 seconds that I tried to. Instead, I focused on Bonnie, who was doped up to the gills. She was shaking because of all the narcotics in her system, which was to help offset the fact that there was no time to put her under anesthesia.
How much narcotics was in her system? If she had been walking the streets and got arrested, they would have thrown the book at her for felony drug possession.
Back to Bonnie, who had a shield below her breasts and up high enough so that she couldn't see the activities happening in her mid-section. There was a ton of action as parts were flying out and two women had their hands deep inside Bonnie trying to procure young Steven from the depths of her belly.
I've seen a lot of Bonnie in our relationship. That day, I saw more of her than I ever wanted.
About five minutes after they began the surgery, Steven was out safely – whisked away to the incubation station where he was checked out by the on-call pediatrician doctor. I went over to check on my son, but kept an eye on Bonnie to make sure that she was OK. I had been a wreck for quite awhile, now it was taking on even greater proportions as Steven was finally here.
The moment we had been waiting nine months had come…Steven's arrival, but Bonnie couldn't celebrate much as she was laying prostrate on the operating table with her insides sitting on her belly (trust me, this is an image that I won't forget for a long time).
Once Steven was checked out, I got to hold him and show him to his mother. He was bright eyed and bushy tailed. His flashed those big blue eyes and melted her heart right then and there. He gazed at his mother lovingly, which brought tears to my eyes as we were now a full-fledged family (not that we weren't before, but this stamped official on it).
While the doctor's were working on Bonnie after the delivery, I noted that all the king's horses and all the king's men were putting Bonnie back together again. Bonnie looked at me and asked "What am I? Humpty Dumpty?"
We looked at each other and started laughing, with the doctor who operating on Bonnie looking perplexed as it was the first time she had ever seen anyone laugh in this situation. We needed something to break the tension and that was the perfect tonic for the moment.
Upon the doctor's stapling her back up, I went with Steven to the nursery for his check in. He went on the scale squirming, weighing in at 8 pounds, 0.5 ounces. Then he went to the bed to be measured, coming in at a length 21.5 inches (1 foot, 9.5 inches).
It was off to another station, where his grandparents and his great-grandmother were able to gawk in amazement from the window – taking a TON of pictures. He is quite the cute young lad, even if he is my kid.
After Steven was in good hands, I raced down to the recovery room to check in on Bonnie. She was resting well, the shakes coming to an end as she slowly detoxed from the meds that fed to her in the surgery. She was at ease knowing that he was healthy and safe, while finally completing the most vicious 10 months of her life.
A few hours later, she was finally able to meet her son and hold young Steven for the first time. It was a touching moment as the three of us huddled around each other to share in the special moment. For me, it brought me back down to Earth as the excitement and anxiety of the past four hours finally had built to this Hallmark moment.
It was the perfect end to what had been far from a perfect day.
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