I punched myself in the face

That's right folks, I punched myself in the face. Right in the kisser...twice. Let me set the scene. Please imagine a film noir approach...you can even read it with that guy's voice, wearing the hat, flipping the coin off his thumb in the black and white movies with a cigarette hangin out of his mouth in a dark alley way. But lose the cigarette. Smoking's bad.




So, ahem: It was very late, we'd been up all night. We were tired. The woman broke her water and needed a repeat c-section so that's what we planned on. But sometimes things just aren't that simple. We started the c-section. It was real hard, but we kept going until it was time to get the baby out--and that's when the real story starts. I reached my hand in, and felt it. A giant baby head. Okay, it wasn't that giant but it was a pretty big baby head. I looked at the surgeon across from me and said, "That's a really big head." I lifted it up to the incision and we started pushing trying to deliver it but no matter what we did, that little tuft of hair on that big baby head just stared at me, taunting me. So I called for it, "Kiwi. STAT." (Sidenote #1, Kiwi is the name of the vacuum we were using. Sidenote #2, I didn't actually say STAT. I've never actually called for something STAT. But I think it adds a little something special to the story, don't you?)..."Kiwi. STAT." I put out my left hand and felt the kiwi placed there. I took a moment to feel that kiwi, like a cowboy spends some time with his rope before lassoing a calf. I was ready to get this kid out...and I say kid because judging by the size of his head he was more of a toddler than an infant. But I was ready. I placed my right hand behind the head, directing the head up and out of the uterus. With my left hand I placed the kiwi and pumped up the suction. I looked at the surgeon opposite me and nodded. She pushed on the belly trying to deliver that head...but it was like an orange on a toothpick, an orange that didn't want to be delivered. She kept pushing and I repositioned myself, angling over to get directly in front of that head, daring it to stay inside. I removed my hands, spit on the right, then the left and rubbed them together preparing myself like a baseball player getting ready to hit the homerun and win the game, then replaced them in the perfect position (I didn't actually spit on my hands. I was wearing a mask. and gloves. And that would be unsterile--but I wanted to). Then I pulled, gently at first, trying to guide that monstrosity out into the air. I repositioned myself again, this time even more directly in line of the path of delivery, pulling straight out towards her feet with a slight upward angle creating a perfectly straight line between that tuft of hair, my fist and ...my face. I pulled gently but with no movement of the head I pulled a little harder, then harder, then harder and then, SMACK! I overcame the suction of the vacuum causing the kiwi to pop off allowing the full force of my pull to recoil back. I punched myself in the face. Hard. Right in the lower lip. My eyes welled. But this head would not get the best of me. I applied it again, this time adjusting my right hand to hold it in place, looked to my co-surgeon, nodded again and pulled gently, harder, harder and SMACK! Right straight in the kisser. Again. Well, I looked at that head, bowed my head, and shook it gently in defeat. It had won.

Well that head came out with a little more struggle fortunately, and safely. So did the body. And it was a big body with big chubby cheeks and a chubby belly and chubby thighs and a low scratchy cry like a toddler. Nearly 10 pounds of chub. And so adorable. After finishing the section I went to look at that adorable big baby and smiled at him, but for just a moment I swear that big head of his just looked up at the swelling forming around my bottom lip and smirked just a little bit. Cheeky.