my C-section scar is 11 years old, too ya know……..

October 19th brings forth a plethura of emotions… My last-born came into the world on this day so obviously, it’s a day of celebration and love and being thankful for the gift that is Abigail Claudette Iseminger.

the gift that almost wasn’t…. (da da duhhhhhhhhn)

Not long after having Cal, my obstetrician decided to retire.  I couldn’t bear the thought of another person filleting me like a fish and pulling a person out, so Dan and I gave up any thoughts of more babies.  I’d always wanted a large brood and Dan, wise beyond his years, wanted whatever I wanted; but I was adamant that only Dr. Robin would deliver my babies… Months later, during a grocery trip, we ran into Dr. Robin’s nurse, she informed us he had signed on for another year; I looked at Dan and said, “Put down that mixed gardenia and let’s go make a baby!” (side note: Dr. Robin actually retired just 2 months ago – think: Brett Favre)

9 months later (give or take a few days) there I was, all numbed up on the operating table (C-sections are my specialty); and what followed is the reason for the other emotions I feel, most notably – grateful to be alive. (*gulp*)

Throughout my pregnancy with the Abbers I struggled with a weird heart anomaly; I never brought it to the doctor’s attention even though Dan begged me to.  I just remember feeling like my heart was going to jump out of my chest and I got a tremendous throbbing/aching in my lower back.  It happened maybe 15 times and was so random… I always assumed my heart was racing, trying to keep up with the growing evil in my uterus (poor Abs….).  So there I was, all doped up so I couldn’t feel the cutting of my skin and the removing of my innards (this is actually true – Dan’s witnessed it 3 times, they actually put my insides on a table next to me…). I looked at Dan and said, “ugh that weird thing with my heart and lower back is happening….”

Well holy shit buzzers were buzzing and the bleeps that were so rhythmic only seconds before were screaming and demanding action; a nurse shouted, “Get the anesthisioligist!”

Nobody moved

“GET THE ANESTHESIOLOGIST – N.O.W.!” Another nurse took off, knocking over a tray of instruments in the process… basically, not the stuff you wanna hear in my position.  Dan said, “oh my god your heart rate is plummeting, we’ve always thought your heart was racing during these episodes….”  I remember laying there thinking, ‘this is silly, women don’t die in childbirth anymore…’ then I thought, ‘where’s Dr. Quinn?  She could fix this mess…’

Meanwhile, ol’ Dr. Robin was going about his business, calmly – I heard the unmistakable sound of that first cry (the baby, not Dr. Robin).  I looked at Dan and asked, “what is it?” (we’re not cheaters…). He looked at me, white as a sheet and said, “uhhhh I’m a little more worried about you right now than whether we had a boy or a girl…”

Truth be told, he wasn’t so much afraid of losing me as he was afraid I’d leave him alone with those 3 youts…

Long story short – the anesthesiologist came in, shot me up with some epinephrine and here we are 11 years later… (oddly, the episode was NEVER discussed with us.  I still, to this day, wonder what was going on with my heart…).  For the record, after Abby was cut free, Dr. Robin fixed my lady parts so there wouldn’t be any more babies… the heart stuff during the pregnancy convinced Dan 3 was our max (and to this day… I want more).

So, October 19th brings a tsunami of emotions and memories but the day is always a blessing…

Until two thousand and fucking seventeen…………..

I wanted to swim this morning so I prepared my bag last night.  When I got up I knew time was tight because I wanted to stop and get donuts for the birthday girl; I also knew I’d have to stop and get gas on my way home.  So at 4:00am when my alarm sounded I jumped out of bed with a flash… yeah… no that’s bullshit… BUT I did only snooze once.

Washed, brushed, etc. then hopped in the car and was on my way.  I checked the gas gauge and saw that my estimated range was 61 miles, yep… would definitely need gas on the way home.  I’d jump right of 99 on the East Freedom exit and hit the good Sheetz… formulating that intricate plan ate up 36 seconds of my 45 minute drive.  Mostly I spent the drive thinking about my littlest girl and how she makes my life so much more interesting.  From telling me (at age 5) that she couldn’t wait to swear because it makes her ‘feel so alive’ (she sang/shouted that last part); to last night when she wanted to dress as a teacher for professional day at school and to my suggestion of wearing nice pants and a blouse, responded, “I could do that… if I knew what a blouse was.”

Got to the Y and all was as usual.  After my swim I went into the changing room only to remember I didn’t bring any underdillies… (I had a college roommate who’s mother used the word ‘underdillies’ – I’ve loved it ever since).  Ok… no worries… sweatpants and sweatshirt will suffice.  Uh… not so much.  As quoted from my text to Dan, ‘how is it that a thick-ass Under Armour sweatshirt can’t take care of a coupla nipples?’

is that too much information?  should I have skipped that part of my day?

So I walked outta the Y with my hands in the pocket of the sweatshirt, pulling outward, with my shoulders hunched over like I was stealing shit…  Nope, nothin’ to see here… just a braless, old(ish) woman taking a stroll on a chilly… chilly morning.

Got in the car and rehashed that elaborate gas plan of mine and off I went – commando (just so you know… if I could find a way to get clean in the shower while fully dressed… I’d do it – anything less than full coverage is exceptionally uncomfortable for me).

As I was getting onto 99 from the exit – it dawned on me that…. I was on the East Freedom exit… I was driving AWAY from the very place I wanted to go for gas.  No shit – I take that exit at minimum 4 times/week – never in all of the intricate planning did it hit me that all I needed to do was turn left instead of getting on the highway and the gas station was right over the hill.

I literally have people’s lives in my hands at work everyday… let that shit sink in for a minute…

ok… I start thinking about the next exit… how far away is it and does it have a gas station (preferably Sheetz ’cause we have the savings card and credit card)… I look down and my range is no longer a number it’s now just flashing dashes…

shit…. got real

I was a wreck for the 5 or so miles it took to get to the next exit…  I relaxed a little once I was on the exit ramp… I relaxed, that is, right up until I realized I didn’t have my purse on me….

luckily I keep cash in my ash……

those fucking kids

…an ashtray full of pennies with some nickels and dimes thrown in for good measure.  I picked up my phone to let Dan know I wouldn’t be able to get donuts – and it was on 3% – no charger.

So, me and my nipples walked my fist full of $4 in to the guy at the register (I’m half expecting to see every gas pump in every Sheetz outfitted with a ‘cash/coin slot’ by the end of the week, just so nobody ever has to witness something like that ever again). I then pumped my 1.4861 gallons of gas… is it too much to ask for it to have reached 1.5 gallons???  I’m not gonna lie – that .4861 was the most irritating part of the morning.

When I turned the car back on – the flashing dashes continued to blink, the cute little gas pump-shaped light in the corner of my dash… still lit.  I texted Dan and basically said – I’ve got no underwear, no gas, no money and no phone… if I’m not home in 25 come lookin’ for me!

I can’t say I would’ve faulted him had he pretended to not get that message.

Alas… I made it home!  And Dan, in all his wonderfulness, had wrapped Abby’s gifts and gone for donuts – the morning celebration was saved! I told the story of my morning (Alex was disturbed by the lack of material between her and my lady parts) and we celebrated our Abbers (another birthday and not one of those people wanted to look at or celebrate my C-section scar… ingrates).

The rest of my day sailed along pretty nicely – I guess when you pay your dues up front – you get a pass.  We had a late dinner complete with cake and ice cream; our late dinner was due to Cal’s football game – which saw him score his first touchdown ever in “big boy” football!!!  I cried….

Ya know… the girl literally tried to suck the life right outta me, then she overshadowed my birthday by being born 3 days before it, and don’t even get me started on that night when she was 4 and I woke up to her standing over me, hair all wild, staring… I thought, “this is it… this is how I’ll meet my demise…” and yet…

I’ve never been more in love (before they say anything – I’ve been equally in love – twice; but not MORE).  Still, 11 years later, I’m so excited to see her face every morning, I love her spunk, I love her style, I love her audacity, I love the way she’s still small enough to fold into me and the fact she still wants to fold into me, I love her love of cooking and every.single.day I love being her momma.  She’s my mini-me (just the shitty attitude; not so much physically, the girl’s got zero body fat… we’re fairly certain there was a baby switch at the hospital, Satan is down there playing with a chubby, little red-headed girl) and I’m thoroughly and utterly infatuated.

Thank you Dr. Robin… for coming out of retirement – you gave me the rest of my heart……..♥♥     ♥

 

 

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