I never did type out my labor story from Christian's birth. The short version is that it went rather smoothly, not nearly as fast as I had anticipated, and involved one very scary panic attack.
I had a reaction to the epidural. You know, that scary reaction you've always heard about but don't actually know anyone who's had it. The one they always talk to you about while the anesthesiologist already has the needle in your back.
"Let me know if you get a metallic taste in your mouth."
That one.
Well, I didn't while the anesthesiologist was in the room. But as soon as she rushed out, my tongue started to swell. And feel fuzzy. And suddenly I was having a hard time talking. The nurse didn't panic, but she was on the phone STAT, trying to get that anesthesiologist back in the room.
Luckily, I already had 3 different IV bags dripping into my arm, so adding a shot of Benadryl was no big thing. Except that it made me feel weird immediately. Not just drowsy or dizzy. Like I was being pulled under. I started to cry, and told the nurse how I felt. She said it was normal and that I could go to sleep. I told her through the tears that I was afraid if I fell asleep, I would never wake up.
And right before I started hyperventilating, I told her to find Michael.
You see, when I got an epidural with Shaelyn, Michael got really sick. Evidently, there is a "smell" to the epidural, and that, combined with watching a big needle going into your wife's back, gets a lot of guys woozy. In order to avoid that this time, Michael and I decided he would step out of the room just while the epidural was being administered, and then come right back in.
He left his cell phone number with my nurse in case she needed him to come back sooner. Unfortunately, he thought she was going to call when it was time to come back in, and she thought he was just coming back on his own. Which is why Michael wasn't in the room when the panic attack started.
After getting me hooked up to an oxygen mask and applying a compress to my head, my nurse calmly called Michael on his cell phone and simply asked him to come back to the room. She did not tell him what was going on. So you can imagine his surprise when he walks in and sees his wife with wild eyes, shaking and gasping for air, with an oxygen mask on her face.
To his credit, he (outwardly) remained calm as well. He came to the side of the bed and took my hand. My heart rate and breathing immediately decelerated. I began calming down. Soon, my nurse was able to take off the oxygen mask. Knowing he was there, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, I let myself succumb to the Benadryl and drifted off to sleep.
My nurse had taken the time to get to know us for the 7-or-so hours we were in her care. She learned about Shaelyn being "pregnant" with Pinky and the baby dolls we had hidden in my suitcase to give the girls when they came to visit Mommy at the hospital. She learned about our crazy birthing story with Rachelle and laughed really hard when I told her I had called my last nurse a liar. She discovered why Michael never had any ambitions to become a doctor when we talked about how he had never "cut the cord" for any of our other children's births. (He actually did for Christian, but that's another story.) She told us we were great patients to have.
After Christian was born, Michael followed Christian to the nursery and my nurse stayed behind with me to help me prep for moving in my recovery room. Once he was gone, my nurse confided in me.
"He is a really great birthing coach. He was great with you."
To which I simply replied, "He's my best friend."
My response brought tears to her eyes. She told me that people are looking for what we have and just don't know where to find it. "That's real happiness," she said.
And it is. Michael took me to the temple 10 years ago today to make me not just his wife, but his eternal companion. That's where it started. And we find our happiness every day in each other.
I guess this is considered a big milestone anniversary. It does make me feel grown up to think that I've been married for a decade. But I honestly can't remember much about my life before Michael. Probably because I wasn't really me until I met him. I was just a kid when we (re)met, and still just a kid when we got married. I'm glad we've been able to "grow up" together.
He's the best part about my life. The absolute best. Everything good in my life, everything that I love and hold dear, can be traced back to him and that day 10 years ago when we knelt across the altar from one another.
Joyeux dixième anniversaire, chéri! Je t'aime.
Tu sera toujours mon meilleur ami.
