I just laid there, staring up at the ceiling as they continued on. I blocked every negative thought out as the anesthesiologist ran his IVs, when he placed the spinal, as they positioned me, and strapped me down.
Nothing hurt. That was a relief. But I’d take the pain if it meant success for my son. I just kept thinking positive thoughts. Convincing myself that my son would be alive and well at the end of this.
Time continued to move forward, but I still couldn’t get a grasp on it. Had it been ten minutes? Or an hour? I had noidea. I really didn’t know if that was from the seriousness of the situation or the magnesium drip. Thankfully that was out for the surgery, not that the effects stopped that quickly. Dr. Natalie had explained that they’d be putting me back on it afterward. Oh boy.
They brought Bolo in and we listened as both Dr. Natalie and the anesthesiologist explained their parts in what was about to happen. Maybe I’d remember it later, but I had a feeling this was all going to seem like a fever dream by then.
Everyone took their positions. Bolo was sitting up at the top of my head. I couldn’t see him but he was smoothing his hand over my hair while the doctors and nurses worked on me. There was a blue divider keeping us separated from what they were doing down there.
“You’re doing great. Everything is going well. I love you,” he whispered over and over, rubbing my head gently.
It was a strange thing to be able to feel people tugging your body this way and that and know that they were cutting into you but not be able to feel it. That was probably why they put that barrier up. Seeing it would make it too real.
A tiny cry.
The relief at hearing it was so overwhelming I couldn’t speak. Tears streamed down my face and my words were stuck in my throat. I hadn’t really said much this whole time. Poor Bolo was probably feeling so alone right now, but I couldn’t find the words to tell him I was with him. I was there, but stopping the positive words in my head was impossible. If I spoke any words out loud I didn’t remember them, but I was ecstatic. He’d let out a cry. That was a good sign.
There were instantly happy sounds from everyone in the room. My son had given a tiny little squeak. Bolo would later tell me one of the nurses exclaimed, “He pooped on me!” in a happy tone. I hadn’t heard that. The relief and continued chanting in my head was drowning out a lot.
They lifted the barrier and we got to see our son for the first time. Just a glimpse before they whisked him away.My baby!It may have only been a second, but there he was. The NICU nurses were there and ready to care for him. They were busy doing what they needed to help him live. I heard them call out his information, “One pound, fourteen ounces, thirteen centimeters long.”
That seemed so small. But then again, he had three months of growing left to do.
Bolo stayed with me, petting my hair and whispering encouraging things while they prepped my son. The doctors and nurses were still working on me, stitching me up while all this happened. And I just laid there.
The nurses took Bolo—he kissed my forehead before he left—and our son from the room and I just prayed. I was left behind while the two people who mattered most to me left the room, and I was once again glad our son had his father.
It wasn’t going to be an easy day for Bolo. I had my own issues right now, but I loved him and knew he was going to face his own challenges today. I’d never be able to understand them from his perspective. How worried and fearful he must be. I waited, stuck in a cold sterile room, as they finished closing me up before I could get to the next step.
But the next steps weren’t seeing my son. Or my biker.
They transferred me to my hospital bed and wheeled me back to my room. The nurse asked if my mom could come in.Of course.I’d called her that morning and she’d hurried over to the hospital. As soon as I was out of surgery, there she was. There she always was. She and my dad were always there for me. The reason I wasn’t scared to be a mom was because I had the perfect example already. My parents had shown me how to do this.
I heard her come in. Felt her kiss my head. Heard the anesthesiologist tell her I never flinched. Someone else said Imust have a high pain tolerance. I’d literally felt nothing during the surgery. I chalked that up to the meds, but then I did remember being bodily jerked back and forth at one point, so maybe it wasn’t just the meds.
Things got blurry from there. I was shivering. Cold? Maybe, but I couldn't feel it. Probably adrenaline rushing through my body. I was covered and given more medications. The pain meds knocked me out. I honestly had no idea whether I asked my mom if the baby was okay before I passed out, or when I woke up at some point later.
She read a text from Bolo. “He’s good…” She broke off and was fighting back tears.
“Why are you crying?” I asked, panic creeping in. Was I about to hear a “but”, and then bad news?
“No, sorry, he’s good. These are happy tears.”
The relief would have knocked me off my feet if I hadn’t been flat on my back. My baby was okay. Bolo was okay. I could rest. Bolo would watch over our son.
They gave me more of the magnesium and I lost a lot of time. I woke up the next day, still feeling the effects from that wicked drug, plus the after effects of pain meds, and a surgery. But my baby was okay. He’d made it. Even though my body had failed us both at getting him to the fabled thirty-week mark, it’d done enough to get us here and he was alive.
CHAPTER 41
Bolo
Sitting by myself as the doctors and nurses worked on my son in his NICU room, and stitched up my old lady over in the OR, was the most terrifying and loneliest moment of my life. In hindsight, it was also the best day of my life. Actually, the best day, thevery best day, would come a few days later, but we’d get to that. In that moment, when I needed to be in two places at once, and was completely powerless in both places, it was awful.
Everything was a bit of a blur. The decision to do the C-section, then the delivery itself had gone so damn fast. But for me it was mostly just waiting. Waiting in her room and waiting as they wheeled her down the hall to the surgery room. Waiting to be brought into the OR. Just continuous waiting.
The whole time I had one simple prayer. Please protect my wife and baby. I just wanted the two of them to come out of this okay.
I sat with Devyn in the OR stroking her head and comforting her, the only thing I could do. “You’re doing great,” I said in a low voice as she laid there. I was pretty sure we were both in shock. This hadn’t been the plan. Hadn’t been what we were expecting when the morning had started out.
