I'm pretty new to this Mommy thing, today actually kicks off the fifth week of motherhood, and well there is a lot going on in my head these days, not necessarily developed thoughts, since sleep deprivation does not allow for this. I figured I might as well take the advice from a number of my friends and document it ( I think they are trying to get me to stop texting them in my need for adult conversation).
So, since we're not yet acquainted let me share with you the journey that brought me to Motherhood.
After a very uneventful and healthy pregnancy my due date came and went, as I was warned by pretty much every human I came into contact with, we were going to be late. My Dr. and I set a date to induce- December 6th I would get to meet our baby. Excited we reported to the hospital the night before to start the process with a catheter - which had the wonderful task of dilating me, up until that point it hadn't even begun. I was a whole week over due, you think something would have moved - Nope.
The next day I called the Hospital in the AM and they told me to report to the Birthing Centre to start the hormones that would eventually start the process. And there we sat, me hooked up to an IV and my Partner planed in the chair, waiting for something, anything to happen. Hours went by and little contractions happened, Epidural was given. By the wee hours of the morning I had progressed to 6cms and wasn't going much further. It was then I started getting cold, like really cold. Initially I thought it was just an uncomfortable climate, until the nurse began talking about a fever. From that point I don't remember much, there were OBs consulting and talking about fetal heart rate and meconium. I had just woken up and immediately tossed my cookies (apparently this happens during child birth), at that point it was decided that I would have to give birth via CSection, and honestly, by then I give no shits how this kid got out of me.
The Nurse then told me I was to consume no more liquid, fabulous I had just thrown up, woken up and now I cant have a sip of water. The hateful things I thought at that moment I am not proud of. I remember the last thing I said to my Partner before they took me in to prep me for surgery was " I can't wait for water and crackers".
The CSection it's self was not painful, by that time I was just so excited to meet this little fellow after more than 24 hours of labour. The sensation of pressure was strange, and the absence of the feeling below my ribcage even more so. It was minutes in that I saw them sweep our little boy across the OR floor, I couldn't see what was happening but gave my self a hell of a kink in the neck trying to get a peak.
Then the shaking started, followed by me obsessively telling the anaesthetist that I was shaking, he knew, and wasn't concerned, but I told him 40 more times, just in case.
In recovery I panicked, I began asking for water, the nurse declined. So I asked again, and again, and 56 more times just in case she misunderstood what I wanted. They granted me ice chips to rub on my lips, but I quickly grabbed them out of my partner's hand and consumed them- then they took those away too. I was also still fixated on the shaking, it was like nothing I ever experienced. It felt violent, like I was out of control, I cried and told the entire recovery room I was scared. My new baby was lying next to me and all I could focus on was how thirsty I was and how hard I was shaking.
Then I fell asleep.
When I woke the shaking had stopped, they rolled me into my room and I realized I hadn't yet held my baby, I looked at my partner and said, " You don't get to hold him again until I do" He politely agreed.
The days that followed were long, the 48 hour stay was extended by a day to ensure that our Son did not contract whatever infection had caused my fever during labour. It was the day we were to be discharged that I suddenly got another fever, and a weird rash. All of a sudden here was General Surgery, sticking catheters in me and sending me for CT Scans, prescribing super antibiotics. Next there was infectious disease, prescribing more. By the fifth day no one had told me anything, I was getting conflicting stories and no one seemed to talk to each other, the following day they told me I could go home, but there were people who needed to connect, and an at home nurse needed to be set up to administer the antibiotics. My Partner began to pack up, we laid out the baby's going home outfit and I put on a bra.
That's when the OB resident came in and told me the person who sets up the home care had gone home, and I would have to stay again. The water melt down had nothing on the I want to go home meltdown, it didn't make sense that I had to stay in the hospital room because of some process. I sobbed like I have never sobbed and yelled, as I sob-yelled my partner translated to polite, coherent requests. Finally they let me go home on a day pass if I were to return the next day, this was inconvenient but I jumped on it like I did those ice cubes.
The next day I returned, joked with my nurse about being released from prison, waited for the paperwork for homecare. That is when the OB came in to look at my staples. She informed me that they were not acceptable and she would have to restitch them. Great, until that point the day was moving smoothly. A couple hours later I was being restitched on my bed, in the hospital room that I had been reluctantly calling home for 7 days.
Finally a week after giving birth to our son Parker, we were home. Everything hurt like the first day again, but I was home.
4 weeks later I am mobile and healthy, and if you were wondering.. I never did find out what infection I had, though during a follow up the Infectious Disease Dr. did tell me it may have just been a contaminate.
