C-Section, I Saw

Hello Everyone, sorry for the delay in postings here but just got a little busy and a little sick. I figure the cold is to be expected when you travel half-way around the world.

On Wednesday night, November 25th I witnessed my first Cesarean section (c-section) and thus live birth. I don't think I am going to do this one justice by words but I am going to give it a try.

To begin, the whole experience was a weird combination of beauty and gore. I don't know how many of you out there have had the opportunity to witness a surgery first hand...for me, this surgery was my first. Let me begin by saying that for any who's major reference is Grey's Anatomy or ER or some other 'doctor' show...you haven't seen anything. Those shows do not, in the the least, prepare you for what real surgery looks like.

A couple of other thoughts before I go into some detail:
1) Witnessing a c-section is the best medicine for convincing someone that a c-section is not a good idea. The procedure is incredibly invasive.
2) It would be my guess that witnessing a c-section (or perhaps any surgery) is also a great way to argue the detriments of obesity. In this particular surgery they had to cut through quite a bit of fat...and it makes a big difference.

"Have you ever seen a surgery before?" the doctor asked me.
"No."
"Do you think you are going to faint?"
"No" I reply, confident that I can handle anything...how bad can it really be - right?

The particular patient had a lung infection so it was too dangerous to put her under general anesthesia. The whole evening began at 10:15 PM with a spinal tap which, already, made me squirm. Watching someone who is seemingly awake have a 2 inch needle bore into their spinal cord is no easy thing. All you can think is: "Are they feeling any of this? They can't be, they would be screaming."

The moment I was least prepared for was the initial cut, I don't know if anyone who is virgin to the operating room could ever be prepared for this. The scalpel hits the skin and slices through it like butter (or ripe melon), and you realize how animal we all are underneath that skin. How all the moving parts are just that..moving parts. The first 4 inches or so are fat...yellowish with tints of pink and coagulated together. It takes several long slices to hit the first layer of muscle. Here, the surgeon slows for a bit and cuts a bit more carefully and the muscle gives way to more muscle. As the opening gains depth clamps are added to stop the bleeding. Her stomach is now a gaping hole. It takes what seems like about 6 inches before they hit any organs. Now, the cutting is slow and purposeful.

The slice in the uterus is about 8 inches long. The surgeon reaches in with her gloved hand and the doctor standing at the head of the women begins pushing down hard on her stomach from the top. The push and pull continues for about a minute.

And then, the doctor's hand emerges slowly with the infant. The baby is received by a nurse who brings it immediately to a pediatrician in the room next door.

The next hour I spend between watching the baby, who is in duress and watching the surgeon close up the mother.

It was not really until witnessing this surgery and the birth that I fully understood the magic or miracle behind child birth (the thing everyone talks about). It is not just the size of the newborn, in fact, I don't know how much of it has anything to do with the size of the newborn. What it is about is this feeling of endless hope and potential. As you look down at this tiny shriveled little thing all you can think is how much life they have ahead of them and how much they could do with that life...and you can't really think about anything else. It is joy and hope. That is what I felt. You begin to understand the celebration of life.

Back in the operating room the placenta has been removed as one large slab of bloody goo. The uterus has been pulled outside the body cavity and is laying on the women's stomach as the stitch shut the 8 inch opening.

The pediatrician is with the baby who is not breathing well. He has tubes going down the baby's nose attempting to suction out mucus from the lungs and allow for more crying and better breathing. The baby is tiny 2.25 kilos..about 5 lbs.

When I get back to the operating room the doctor is putting in the second set of stitches at the muscle layer over the uterus. The final set of stitches is the top layer or initial incision.

I go back to see the baby and it now has an oxygen mask on. The pediatrician informs me that the baby's lungs are in duress because the mother didn't have enough fluid in her uterus.

He lets me touch the baby now. I reach out and put my finger on the palm of its little hands. She seems so fragile and vulnerable. Her eyes are shut and when I touch her hand and stroke her arm she seems slightly soothed. Her skin is soft and brand-new. Her hands are still wrinkled from the watery world from which she just emerged. She is pretty damn cool!

The night ends as abruptly as it began and I am left sitting at the hospital trying to digest what I just witnessed. I call my sister and try to put into words what I just saw. How gruesome the surgery was paired with how beautiful the baby is.

I feel very lucky to have had the opportunity to have seen this. I am now committed to witnessing a natural birth as well...which I have been told is actually much more difficult to witness.

All in all, an experience I wouldn't trade in for the world. It is my intention that I will have many more to come during my year here.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.