I elected to close my eyes and tilt my head to the side, holding my breath and waiting. I could feel my lower torso being manipulated. Although I had no sensation (thank you, spinal block), I felt uncomfortable and anxious.
"Are you OK?" my husband asked.
"I just want to hear the baby," I answered, and once again shut my eyes tight and waited.
When I had the emergency C-section last year, it had taken a great deal of pulling and jiggling to remove my daughter from my body. Labor had been under way (before my womb infection stalled the process), and she was already partway into the birth canal.
So I was surprised, during my planned C-section, that I experienced none of that semi-violent tugging. Instead, my OB made a 10-inch incision in my uterus starting at 8:30 a.m., and all I felt were a few gentle pulls in my abdomen.
(If you're curious about the procedure, here's a thorough description of the process, excerpted from An Absolute Beginner's Guide to Pregnancy. Warning: It's not for those with a weak stomach.)
There were multiple calls for suction as my doctor and the resident surgeon pushed against one part of my uterus in order to propel the baby's head away from the incision. Then I heard a familiar utterance from my OB: "This one has a lot of hair too!"
I knew my heartburn during this pregnancy would mean a newborn with a head full of hair, so I issued an "I told you so!" over the blue curtain, then tilted my head, closed my eyes, and held my breath while I waited for the sound of my daughter's voice.
The baby emerged from the incision head first and wound her way into the world, guided by the surgeon's hands. I found it surprising just how much it resembled a vaginal birth. The surgical team suctioned out her mouth once they had the head out, then once more after her body had emerged. That's when it happened: I heard my daughter's voice for the first time.
