Hospital Stay: First Day

Now that the drug induced haze has lifted, I will attempt a clear-headed recounting of the first day of the hospital--the birth, the visitors, etc.

For some reason, I decided to get dressed up to go to the hospital. Part of it was because pants were officially no longer comfortable to wear as they were all too tight, and my sun dress was much more accommodating. Because the c-section was scheduled for 9 am, Michael and I needed to be up there no later than 7 to get all the prep stuff done. Pre-registration is done over the phone several days before, so I didn't have to worry about that, but even so I had to sign a lot of paperwork.

My mom and dad had arrived late the night before--about 11--so they woke and dressed the kids and brought them up to the hospital a little closer to the time of the birth. Because I am overly controlling, I had packed the diaper bag, the fun bag, and set out the clothes that I wanted the kids to wear so that Mom wouldn't have to track all that stuff down.

I was feeling pretty good when we got there. It was a lovely day, and I love early morning, even if I am super cranky britches. Michael would be able to be there either way because the dealership is not open on Sunday mornings, and the pregnancy that had been so trying was finally coming to an end. There were no nerves, no worry, just calm. At my last Dr. Killeen appointment, we had discussed the possibility that Michael would be able to come back while I had the spinal and be with me, and Dr. Killeen had been supportive of it.

There were three nurses helping me get ready, which was kind of weird. Maybe it was just a slow day because it was a Sunday. I know from asking that there was one other woman that went into labor and delivered that day, and that another woman had an emergency c-section, but we were the only ones to have babies that day, so there were only 3 little babies (including our Benjamin) in the nursery.

From past hospital experiences, I know that I have curvy, "valve-y" blood vessels, whatever the heck that could mean, so IV's tend to be a little difficult to place. One nurse tried to put it on the back of my left arm near my wrist (what I assume is the traditional place to put it) after I had informed her of my apprehension. It slid in easily enough and it looked like it would take, but it became apparent after a moment that it had not taken. Instead of doing the decent thing and removing the needle to try again, she adapted a look of consternation, and proceeds to press down on the needle, allowing the saline solution from the IV to pump into my arm and swell up. Hurt really badly, made me kind of mad, but I wasn't going to let it get to me. The other nurse took her time and found a good vein...on the back of my dominant hand. Which, since she got it in on her first try, I was not going to complain.

Rhonda and Ken, and then my parents with Emerald and Gabriel, arrived to see us before the surgery began. The nurse loaded me up in the big ol' wheelchair, and we started down the hall...

...and I start to panic again. I am shivering from head to foot from the cold, I am sick to my stomach, and right here, right now is the very last place I want to be in the entire world.

Michael noted that it was interesting that I got freaked out before I had Gabriel and Benjamin, but I was calm and collected when I had Emerald. I think that may have been knowing versus not knowing--with Emerald, I didn't know what to expect, so I had no reason to be nervous. Each time I went in with the boys, I knew exactly how it was going to go, how the healing was going to be...I think I made it scarier than it was.

Michael talked quietly to me, stroked my hair, calmed me...I think I was afraid until the moment that we were back there that they weren't going to actually let Michael be with me. The anesthesiologist came out to talk to us, and it was his decision whether Michael would or would not be allowed to stay with me, which I thought was kind of interesting. Dr. Killeen was the leading surgeon in this situation, so you would think that he would be the one to make that call, but they let the man administering the spinal decide whether or not he wants spousal observation. He asked Mike if he passed out at the sight of blood or needles, and I wanted to laugh because Michael was about to go back and watch them slice me in half, stick a hand in the wound, and pull out his son...if that didn't make him pass out, why on earth would a little needle stick in my back rattle him?

The spinal is kind of scary: the anesthesiologist puts me on a big T-shaped table, makes me curl my spine toward him...they always say it's like an angry cat arching its back. Anyways, they poke around on my back for a bit looking for a good spot to stick a ridiculously big (but thin) needle, clean it three times with solution I am certain they are storing in the fridge, then I get the "bee sting"--the shot that numbs the area, but for some reason burns like heck going in. You feel the pressure of the big hollow needle go in, and almost immediately, your legs become very warm and heavy (if the spinal is intended for pain management, I assume--I don't know how it would be for the diagnostic test). Before you are unable to move your legs, they assist you to lay back, and then they handle all the catheter placement and stuff like that while you slowly become warmer and number.

As soon as my legs became warm, I started to relax. I had warned the doctor that I had freaked out last time I had a c-section, so he had something for anxiety on stand-by in case I needed it, but warned me that if he did have to administer it, I would not remember (or possibly not be awake for) the birth of my son. He ended up not having to give me anything because I was very relaxed after that point.

You really don't go entirely unfeeling. I wonder if it is even possible without them paralyzing you for you to feel absolutely nothing. But what you feel is that something is going on--it doesn't hurt, you are just aware of the fact that someone is touching you. It all went very quickly--I felt them cleaning the skin, a slight tugging near my hips where I assume they were cutting into me, and then great pressure near my ribs. They were pushing and pulling little Benjamin out of my tummy!!

Babies are gross when they first come out. Benjamin was the first yicky baby I had seen--Emerald and Gabriel I didn't see until they were clean and wrapped in a blanket. I can't even remember if they let me nuzzle and kiss Gabriel before they took him away, and since they didn't get pictures of that birth, I can't go back and see.

One of the nurses said "where was she hiding this baby?" and I immediately grew concerned that I was having just a ridiculously ginormous baby, but I heard them call out the weight at 7 lbs, 14 ozs. A little bigger than I had originally been expecting but not unreal. It sort of explains how uncomfortable I was with him in there, and even though he was not born vaginally he still had some coning to his head because he was smooshed so far down in my pelvis for so long. Not much--he didn't look completely alien baby--but not the perfectly round skull of many c-section babies.

They cleaned up the little fella, gave him the vitamin K shot, measured him, got his APGAR scores (9 and 9--practically perfect) and then we got some family bonding time. They let us keep him longer than either of the other two kids; I asked Mike later, and he agreed that we were allowed more this time around. I remember looking at my baby and consciously thinking that they may have given me the wrong baby. Logically I knew that I was the only woman giving birth in the room, and that he was the only baby in the room, but I could not for the life of me figure out why he was so big. Plus, Emerald and Gabriel had looked exactly alike when born with the only difference being the hue of the peach fuzz atop their heads, but this little fella looked completely different. For one thing, he had a lot of dark hair when both the others had been born bald.

Once they got him closer to me, I realized how much of Michael I could see in him. He was a beautiful, perfect little boy and I was so excited to meet him. Michael whispered "Are you sure about the name?" and when I agreed, we officially "met" Benjamin Reilly.

By this time, I was feeling very exhausted and was beginning to drift in and out of sleep. Luckily it was time for Michael to wheel the baby away to meet the family and for me to start going it alone. I felt completely confident and fine with that as soon as I had seen my baby was healthy and happy and safe. Thus began the exhausting process of stitching me back together.

I slept in a way that I was dozing, but still aware of what was happening around me. They were concerned there was a problem with my bladder, so they apparently inflated it with water and drained it...it was fine, I don't know what they thought they saw. Glad they tried to fix it before stitching me up and leaving it for the next guy though. Dr. Killeen talked about my tattoo. Apparently, he had been under the impression that it was a buffalo, even to the point of remembering that Michael was from Colorado and assuming that I had gotten it for the CU Buffs, but I laughingly told him it was an orange bull. He thinks I'm weird for getting it. Admittedly, I am a little odd for that decision, but I don't regret it.

It felt like it took a lot longer for them to finish stitching me up than normal, and it was confirmed when Dr. Killeen came to talk to me after it was over--he said that my uterus was abnormally thinned from so many pregnancies and c-sections in such a relatively short amount of time. It was taking its toll on me, and he recommended waiting several years before attempting to get pregnant again, though I still probably should leave it at this. Looks like I am a three-kid woman. We discussed birth control options, which Mike and I have been waffling back and forth over for six months now, but for the first time, Dr. Killeen mentions an option that seems quite viable for us--Implanon, the arm implant.

He left and I was wheeled to recovery where they monitored my blood pressure, heart rate, oxygenation, and pressed on my stomach to promote uterine contractions. The nurse had to come and go a bit because there was an emergency c-section across the hall from me and they needed her help a little. But that was okay, I don't really like people hovering around me. I usually use that time to nap and to wiggle my feet to see exactly when I have mobility again. I was back there for longer than usual though because they were letting me rest, but they didn't tell Michael everything was fine so the longer stitching time plus the extended recovery equaled an unsettled Michael waiting for me to come back.

Everyone was laughing at me when I came back, and I didn't know why--even Michael looked baffled--but he explained it later...normally, around people I am reserved a little standoff-ish; the bouncy, bubbly, affectionate part of me only shown in isolated incidents to all but Mike. So my behavior was absolutely normal for him, but must have been bizarre to everyone else, lol.

For the rest of the day I was on a liquid diet--just juices, water, and broths at first, though by dinner time they were allowing me "full liquid" which meant tasty cream of chicken soup. For the most part I was confined to the bed with these circulation-promoting stockings (dead sexy, lemme tell ya) on as well as a machine that squeezed my calves every few minutes to keep the blood pumping. I handled those pretty well until the middle of the night--I was supposed to have them taken off at 5 am, but they got hot and itchy and miserable, so I sweet talked the nurse into taking them off a couple hours early. She even helped me walk around the halls that first day with lots of support. She was a very nice nurse.

My parents stayed at the house with Emerald and Gabriel which meant that Michael was able to stay at the hospital with me, lucky guy. He had to sleep on this narrow little couch, but he claims he had more room on that than he did at home with a big pregnant wife and toddler hogging the whole bed. That first night, they come in every hour to give me medicine and check on me, rub my tummy, stuff like that. They want you to rest, but that is super absurd since they are poking and prodding you so often.

So that is what I remember from that first day. Hopefully soon I will be able to recall the subsequent two days and make a record of that, but Emerald is currently sitting in time alternating between screaming and singing "goodbye..." in the saddest voice she can imagine. Sort of distracting!!

--Andie--