A Baby Story: Andrew's Birth

It was a cold and snowy morning in Texas when we headed to the hospital to have our son. 

Yep, you read that right. 

Here's the proof if you don't believe me.  Those are our cars, covered in snow.

It does snow sometimes here in East Texas, and it just happened that we had tons of snow the day I was scheduled to deliver our second child via c-section.  I can't tell you how many inches of snow we got that day, because I entered the Newborn Daze that day. 

With the Newborn Daze, a woman has no clue of anything that goes on beyond the roof of her house.  Current events are meaningless. All that matters is feeding the baby and sleeping.  With a newborn in the house, you'll even choose sleeping over eating.  True story.

I think we had to get to the hospital at some ridiculously early time, like 6, so knowing that the weather wouldn't be great, my husband and I woke up super early so that we could leave for the hospital with half an hour to spare.  It normally takes about 7 minutes to get to the hospital, but we weren't taking any chances.  Who wants to be late on the day of their child's birth?

Damian and I, ready to have a baby.

My parents, brothers, and sisters had arrived the night before from South Louisiana, ready to meet the latest addition to our family.  They stayed home with our 2 year old, Isabelle, and planned to meet us at the hospital at a decent hour, closer to the time when our baby would actually be born.

Fortunately, bridges and overpasses had been salted, so we had no problem getting to the hospital with time to spare.  We checked in and waited. 

Our doctor was already there, and was in a good mood, full of energy and jokes.  Much of the rest of the staff, however, was not there.  Evidently they had a hard time getting there, due to the heavy snow, and if schools were cancelled as well, then I'm sure it added to the challenge of making it to work.  All I know is that the hospital was short handed, so our non-emergency, scheduled c-section, had to wait. 

So wait we did, just hanging out and watching the news until it was time to have our baby boy.  We were so ready to meet him. 

Damian, suited up and ready to head to the OR.

Sometime after 10 am or so, I was prepped and brought back to the operating room.  Once I got there, I had to take some sort of an antacid.  Then I received my spinal, which is what numbs the body and enables surgery to be painless.  It's not too different from an epidural.

Shortly after the spinal, I was laying down on the table, with my hands stretched out on boards, and I was wearing an oxygen mask.  At some point, I started vomiting.  That's when things got really fun.

I vomited into my oxygen mask, but couldn't pull it away or really even turn my head, because I couldn't reach my face with my hands.  Turning my head accomplished nothing, thanks to the mask, so I tried to get the attention of my nurse anesthetist, or whoever had administered it.  She was closest to my head.  Finally, she noticed that I was choking on vomit and started suctioning my mouth out. 

It was, in short, one of the most miserable and humiliating feelings of my life. 

Immediately, I said to myself "I'm done.  No more babies.  I hate pregnancy and this experience was awful.  I'm not doing it again." 

I think somewhere during that time frame, my husband came back to the operating room, and they began the c-section.  Before the surgery, the nurses pull up a blue curtain that the father can see over, if he wants to.  My husband has no desire to see my insides, so he just stands nearby and comforts me during my c-sections, waiting for his first peek of the baby.  And he's got the camera ready.

As I continued to wallow in my misery and contemplate the novel idea of having only two children, I felt a tugging in my stomach. 

The doctor hoisted up my baby boy, and I saw his face for the first time. 


"Nope," I thought.  "I can go through that again and again if I have to.  Look at that face.  He's completely worth it."

Love's first kiss.

Andrew Jay Daigle was born at 11:11 am, weighing 8 pounds, 5 ounces.  Andrew is both my husband and his father's middle names.  Jay was the nickname of my grandfather, who was also known as J.W., for John William. 

Andrew was brought back to the nursery to be cleaned up, and my husband went with him while the doctor finished sewing up my incisions.   

Proud Daddy

I was brought to my room for recovery and at some point, the nurses brought the baby to me so that I could nurse him for the first time.  Even though it's a major surgery that a woman has gone through, it's still so important that the mom nurse her baby in that first hour, while he's at his most alert state.  Babies also develop a muscle memory when it comes to nursing, and it's important that the baby nurse well that first time.  After all the difficulties I'd had with nursing my first baby, breastfeeding was definitely my top concern when I was expecting my second.  I had many friends praying for breastfeeding success. 


Our prayers were answered.  Andrew ate like a champ.  He never really lost any weight, and weighed in at 8 pounds, 4 ounces at his first well-baby checkup, 4 days after he was born.  My little guy never wore newborn diapers; he came home wearing size 1 pampers.


Like his sister, he had my heart from the moment I saw him.  I'm excited about getting to meet my newest little one in just 12 days. 

Andrew, just an hour old.

If you're wondering about why I need c-sections, then blame my stubborn first child.  She was breech, upside down, in the womb.  While the doctor attempted an ECV, a procedure to turn her in the womb, it was unsuccessful, so we had no option but a c-section.  We have decided that for our family, we feel that repeat c-sections are the safest way to have a healthy baby, so that's what we do.  It was a disappointment when we first made this decision, but it's what we believe is best for our babies.  Thanks for respecting that decision.