Slice

I keep coming back to consent.

Why did I give it when it was something I didn't want. And why when I made it very clear I didn't want it, did they not respect that and say 'well maybe we shouldn't be doing this.'

I'm going to try and talk about the surgery tonight here. But to do that I need to set it up a bit. And to do that I'm going to talk about today.

This morning I woke up how I do every day. My son smiling up at me, sipping his morning boobie juice, laughing and giggling all the while. It's a beautiful way to start the day even when I'm exhausted. Every weekend I call hubs up from downstairs, he wakes up at 8 and has the morning to himself. Right now it's spent playing Red Dead Redemption.

He came up and we cuddled and talked about what we were going to do with the day. He wanted to go to Ikea and I wanted to go to Greenfest. He said that was a great plan and we started about getting ready to go. I took Little Man down stairs and he had his breakfast and while he was eating my Father called. He said he wanted to go to Ikea to get some things for his garage and for our bathroom.

We are loosing our house to foreclosure and are moving in with my parents. Another humiliating thing to deal with, but big picture, we are all alive and healthy and it's a house. It can be replaced.

Anyway, Hubs told me this and I was upset. Please don't get me wrong. My parents are very generous, giving and loving people. But they don't realize we have plans. And I feel bad telling them no.

"I feel bad telling them no."

Stick that in the memory warehouse, it's going to come up again.

So my plans for Greenfest were thrown out the window and I finished feeding Little Man and Hubs took him upstairs and they had a bath. While they were in the bath I hunted around for clothing for Little Man and myself. After the bath I got him dressed and he wanted to nurse so I laid down in bed with him to do that.

Hubs got a shower. Then I heard him shaving and I started to get pissed. I was lucky if I had time to brush my teeth daily. Forget my hair or makeup, forget even deodorant or a clean shirt or jeans and here he was shaving and grooming himself.

My blood boiled. I have to force my way into the shower and he gets one every single day. And I got madder and madder. And then I realized why. My parents were waiting. I had visions of them pacing around their house yelling at one another how lazy and slow I was. Visions of them saying how I was messing up their day and inconveniencing them because I wasn't ready when they wanted to go. I was afraid to mess up their day.

So I laid in bed my son happily nursing while I began to slowly panic. And then I snapped. Poor Hubs was hit unawares but he handled it perfectly. He took my son and told me to get a shower. But I 'didn't have time' for a shower. I didn't have time to wash and fuss with my hair. I got up and brushed my teeth and kept saying 'I'm panicking. I'm panicking.' And I couldn't figure out why.

And then it hit me.

I was afraid I was inconveniencing someone.

That's what it is. I bottled this up and never really talked about it, because I didn't want to make anyone feel badly for me and they'd leave. I didn't want to make my parents wait for me because they would be mad at me. I didn't want to be a bother.

Hubs talked me down and I started calming down. I started to breathe. And then another thing hit me. This whole mess with the section goes back to that. I feel bad saying no. I feel as if it's an inconvenience if I say no.

When I signed the consent forms, I didn't want to. I didn't want a section. I didn't want people ripping my body apart to get at my son. But I thought 'I had to.' If something happened to Little Man, I would of let Hubs down. We were so close to the finish line and the scare that we wouldn't make it was enough for me to sign away all my rights. And I did.

While I was being prepped for surgery I cried. I kept saying 'I don't want this.' And they never said 'you don't have to.' They just let me bawl.

They knew of my history, which I'll try and talk about at a later time, that I didn't want men in the OR. There were two men in the OR during my surgery. They made me feel bad for that request.

They did my spinal in the OR, Hubs wasn't 'aloud' to be there while I was 'getting ready.' And my Midwife and a Surgeon restrained me while they put the spinal block in. I kept crying and yelling 'OW, I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't LIKE this. NO!'

But they never stopped.

I laid down on the table sobbing and shaking in terror as they moved me about and suddenly catheterized me. I wasn't warned. I wasn't asked if they could touch me. They just did it. I cried in humiliation as both my arms were strapped down. I was told it was for safety. More bullshit.


Then I felt a sharp poking on my belly and I panicked.

"Lynn, do you feel that?"

YES, YES, GOD YES, DON'T CUT ME!

And she stopped and waited. Then I felt the poking again.

This went on for several minutes. It felt like an eternity being strapped down and powerless as complete strangers touched my private parts. Then after being asked so many times 'if I could feel it.'

Anesthesia said: If she can feel it, I'll need to do an epidural.

I didn't want an epidural!

Surgeon: but I have everything ready and prepped, lets wait another five minutes. As she kept poking me every so often.

I kept asking for my husband. He wasn't there. I was alone with strangers. Alone with people I only just met or kinda knew and they were about to cut me open!

I panicked again. I said. 'I don't feel it.'

I did. I lied. I fucking lied.

Why? Why did I lie? Because I didn't want to inconvenience them? Because I wanted to see my husband terribly. Because I was terrified and I needed this to be over?

And then she cut. And I screamed. And I felt all of it.



I have to stop. I can't.