I remember freaking when they wheeled me into OR 1. I think I said something silly like "Oh this really is an operating room." No warm colors, no dim lights, gross white walls, everyone standing around with masks on. I remember now why I don't do surgery.
Then I remember feeling such relief when I saw Tony walk through the OR doors, and I then remember thinking "You look hideous in that outfit." No telling what he thought about me on the operating table. I was so nervous for Tony, but he took his seat on a stool next to my head. We prayed, and I kept asking him if he was ok. He was a champ. As they got closer to delivering Preston I remember praying over and over again these little words... "Dear God, please, please let everything be ok." I must have said it 20 times.
The next thing I knew they asked Tony if he wanted to stand up. Before I could shout the word no (I just knew he was going to pass out) Tony was on his feet already taking pictures. They dropped the curtain and there right in front of me was my little boy. He made the funniest face when he was born. Daddy caught it on camera, but the background is not blog-friendly so I'll refrain from posting it. Then they whisked him away to the neonatal assessment area right outside the OR. (where my aunt and Kristy somehow managed their way into)
I remember thinking to myself Man, he looks l-o-n-g. (90th percentile long. I wonder where he gets that from. Definitely not his momma whose nickname was stumpy or something along those lines during my drill team days)
I waited and waited to hear a scream or cry, and when they finally let Tony walk out the OR to the assessment area I could hear Preston. He was crying! Hallelujah! The nurse came back in to report Apgar's of 8 and 9. Hallelujah!
They didn't weigh him immediately. They wanted to wait until they were in the ICU so they could use the same scales daily, but the nurse came back and said they were estimating 8 pounds. NO WAY! I thought to myself there is no way I had an 8 pound baby. Remember they told me the week of Thanksgiving that his growth seemed to slow down? I definitely have a little fighter on my hands.
Then I was all alone in the OR. I needed more Zofran. They asked if I needed something for anxiety. I didn't. They turned up the music for me, and we made small talk. I inquired about a tummy tuck with my next pregnancy. (ha!) I said I missed being pregnant. I even went to the point of saying "This was fun... I'm ready to do it again." My OB needed clarification, "Do what again?" "Have another baby," I said. They all laughed and again asked me if I needed anything for
Then they wheeled me back to recovery where I immediately asked for a Team Preston sticker and waited to meet my little man.
To Be Continued...