My repeat cesarean was schedule for February 12th, my due date was February 19th. I made 3 trips to the ER before and including on the 9th. The first time I thought I had a slow water leak (it turned out I was just peeing myself... how embarrassing). The 2nd time I had a false labor that they were able to stop with IV meds and fluids. The 3rd time I thought I was having another false labor, and tried to tough it out. I started to have stabbing pains in my lower back with each contraction that I couldn't walk through, so I went in again at approximately 3:30 pm. I was 100% effaced and 4 cm dilated, so my cesarean was scheduled for 5:00 pm. My OB (whom I love dearly) was out for medical leave, so one of her partners was to perform the operation.
From mine and my husband's perspective at the time, everything went perfectly. Wil had a tiny bit of fluid in his lungs, and had to be on the CPAP for a few minutes, but not until after I got to see him, and spend a minute with his head resting on my shoulder. He was taken out, and Jason went with him. After they worked on closing me up for what seemed like a long time, the doctor came around and very calmly told me my uterus had ruptured just as they opened me up. I lost over a liter of blood, they patched me up as best they could, and I would never be able to be pregnant again. It was later explained to me that if we'd waited any longer, both Wil and I would have died. Because of the additional complications, instead of being taken to recovery in my room on the OB wing, I was taken to the regular recovery area. My family had gathered by this point, and were informed of what had happened. I was later told that Jason collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
After about 45 minutes, I was returned to my room, where my family were waiting. For the next 3 days I mostly recovered just like any other cesarean patient. Because I was diligent about taking my prenatals and iron supplements, my RBC count and whatnot were excellent, which let me avoid a blood transfusion. I had a steady parade of hospital staff visiting me, wanting to see the "miracle patient and her baby". It was overwhelming. In the end, I recovered better than I had any right to expect.
I came back to work after 8 weeks, which was far too short a time. I do love my job, though, so that makes it easier. Betty has been wonderful. At first she avoided/ignored her brother, but now she hugs and kisses him, gets upset when he cries, and thinks that his binkie always needs to be in his mouth.
Breastfeeding woes will have to be for a different post. I was, yet again, unsuccessful.