Bragging

I've become that mom who posts a hundred pictures of her kid on social media sites. This blog is no exception.

Photography courtesy of www.lesleylukensphotography.com

Recovery

Recovering from my C Section was ROUGH.

I remember waking up in the recovery room and still having no feeling in my lower half, until the nurse asked me how I was feeling. Suddenly I felt like I was on fire, and the contractions were back. Turns out, when your surgery ends, so do the pain meds.

They wheeled me into my private recovery room where Bryan was waiting for me, and although I was smitten with my new baby in my arms, I found myself asking for painkillers... strong ones. The last thing I remember that night was the warm sensation that spread through my body as they injected me with morphine, and I was fine.

The next morning a nurse came in to encourage me to get up and walk around, and she wanted to put a band around my belly. The moment she touched me I screamed and told her I had no intention of putting anything around my body that would touch the giant incision that I could feel, but refused to look at. No joke, it took me a half hour to stand up out of bed, and by the time I did, I was again begging for morphine.

The next couple days were a blur of people, pain, and precious moments with my baby. I appreciated the people who came to see us, but it was too much, and I think the next time I have a baby (if there is a next time), I will limit visitors. It's embarrassing to have to pee and have eight people watch you struggle to get out of bed and slowly walk to the bathroom while asking your husband to call the nurse for more painkillers. No joke... one day it took me an HOUR to get out of bed, into the bathroom, and back into bed. The bathroom was six feet from my bed.) It's also embarrassing to fall asleep mid sentence in a room full of people there to visit you.

But the best part about staying for an extended time in the hospital, is the service. The nurses were all so great, and it was fun being fed and medicated and taken care of. They'd check my incision (which I still refused to look at), they would bring me clean gowns and linens, and they cheered me on when they saw me walking through the halls at a snail's pace.

When it was time to go home, I was under strict instructions to stay in bed for a few days, avoid stairs, no driving, and don't lift anything that weighed more than the baby. We have a two story house and the C Section wasn't planned, so the first couple days were rough. My husband was running up and down the stairs constantly bringing me clothes, and toiletries. Walking was still difficult, and getting up and down off the couch was even harder. My mom stayed with us for a week to help out. She cooked, ran errands, changed diapers, and brought me the baby every time he needed to be fed.

When two weeks had passed and I finally weaned myself off painkillers, I finally got the courage to look at my incision, and I noticed it was bright red, swollen, and oozing. Greeeeat.... I had a C Section infection. I visited my doctor who didn't seem too concerned, but she drained it (ouch), put me on antibiotics, and sent me on my way.

It's been almost four weeks since my surgery, and I'm almost feeling 100% normal. I can walk normal, drive, do stairs, and sleep laying down. My incision finally stopped oozing, but I have no feeling there except when I carry heavy things... which is still difficult. My stomach is a saggy mess of skin, but it's not like I plan on rocking a bikini ever in my life, so I don't really care. I've lost 30 pounds of pregnancy weight, and I'm hoping that in the next month or so I'll be back in my normal clothes.

Although recovery sucked, it was totally worth it, and I would do it all over again if I had to.

Zachary

Welcome to my labor story! I decided not to hold back on anything, so be warned... if you don't like TMI, you may not want to read.

Wednesday April 24th at 9pm, I checked into the hospital to be induced. 

Getting in the car and driving to the hospital was beyond emotional, and I cried all the way to the second floor where I checked in. I was terrified. 

My husband and I hauled my labor bag into my labor and delivery room where I got hooked up to IVs and monitors, and answered a million questions. A nurse came in to check me out, and after discovering I was two centimeters dilated, she gave me some medication so "soften" me up and get contractions going before giving me Pitocin to get labor going. It was 11pm by then, and we decided it was the best time to get some sleep. The nurse came in every hour to check my progress and see how I was doing, and by 5am, I was starting to feel contractions. They didn't hurt, but I could tell something was up with my body, and it was officially go time.

From then on, labor seemed like a blur. I don't remember what time they gave me the Pitocin, but I DO remember the pain that started radiating in my back. I mentioned it to my nurse, and she looked concerned, and said that the baby was probably "sunny side up," which was going to make delivery difficult. As the pain in my back started to increase, I decided it was time to stand up and do a bit of walking, and I was finally ready for visitors. By this time, it was well into the afternoon. 

We became really close with the nurse (who recognized us from one of our nightmare trips to Babies R Us), and we were having a great time with her. I expressed my main concerns about labor to her: having an IV (which was done and wasn't that bad), pooping on the table during delivery, a catheter, and tearing. She promised to take good care of me to ease my concerns, and offered up an enema to clean me out. I was pretty embarrassed at the thought of someone giving me an enema, but considering that she was checking my dilation by going shoulder deep into my swimsuit area every hour, I figured why not. She warned me that as soon as she was done pumping my backside full of water I was going to have to rush to the bathroom, and I would be in there for quite a while. I asked my husband to turn on some music so no one would hear me in the bathroom, and of all the songs in the world, Elton John's "Your Song" started playing. "It's a little bit funny.... this feeling inside...." It was probably the most appropriate song for the moment, and we were all cracking up and enjoying my enema. It was a touching moment. But clearing your bowels and experiencing contractions at the same time was probably one of the most uncomfortable moments I've ever experienced.

As visitors were coming and going, the contractions were getting stronger, and it got to the point where they hurt so bad I couldn't speak, and I had my husband warn people not to touch me, and not to ask me how I was feeling. It was time for pain killers to take the edge off. I crawled into bed and gladly accepted the injection that warmed my blood as it coursed though my veins. It knocked me out cold, but I was still waking up every 2-3 minutes to have my husband squeeze my hand as I breathed through the pain. While I lay there focusing on the prize that was going to come at the end of this, I could hear the woman in the room next to me screaming in agony and begging for help. I fell back asleep. 

I woke up a couple hours later and was more than ready for the epidural. The pain was too much, but the woman next door was at 8cm and I was only at 4cm, so she got it first and I had to wait the longest half hour of my life. When the anesthesiologist finally came in, it was a piece of cake. The nurse we had become close with held me close and pinched my arm when the needle went in my spine, so I didn't feel a thing. But I did get a glimpse of my husband who wasn't allowed near me during the procedure and he looked like he was going to vomit. After the epidural it was smooth sailing.... until later that evening.

The pain in my back returned, and I suddenly had a strange feeling... like I REALLY had to go to the bathroom, and urge to push was overwhelming. The nurse was still concerned that the baby was turned the wrong way, so she put me in all kinds of different positions and called the doctor to let her know that I was now 9am dilated. It was time to push. My husband grabbed one leg, and my mom grabbed the other, and the nurse hung out at the base of the bed and had me push when I felt the urge. I was hooked up to oxygen at this point because the baby's heart rate was dropping, and when his heart rate dropped from 154 to 70, the nurse left to call the doctor. I wasn't in any pain... but it was horribly uncomfortable and I was losing faith that I could actually go through with it.

The doctor arrived and I continued to push for another hour, and although she could see the baby's head, the moment I stopped pushing he went right back inside, and his heart rate was still unstable. It was time to make a decision. The doctor reminded me that the baby is big, and facing the wrong direction, and I could either keep pushing for another couple hours, or I could have a C Section. I broke down crying, looked at the doctor, and said "Cut this baby out of me." 

As the doctor called the OR to get things ready, my mom and husband started giving me words of encouragement and the nurse gave me a huge hug. This was really happening... and I was scared to death.

I got wheeled into the OR and stripped completely from the chest down and strapped down to a table. My epidural was switched for something more powerful, and the anesthesiologist promised to sedate me when I told him how scared I was. My husband was finally let in the room and he sat with me and really helped me feel better as I heard them announce they were making the incision. Suddenly I felt a huge weight lift out of my body, and a few moments later, I heard the cry. My husband was in awe and told me that we made a beautiful boy, and the nurses called him over to cut the cord while I lay there staring at the ceiling and blue tarp in front of me knowing that all my insides were probably laying out there on my stomach. Suddenly a little round face appeared in front of me, it was my little boy, and he was perfect. The nurses snapped some pictures of us, and as my husband was ushered out of the room with our boy, the sedative kicked in and I was knocked out.

I woke up in a room surrounded by nurses discussing their weekend plans and threw up instantly. When I was finally coherent, they brought me my little boy and I got to hold him for the first time. It was the most incredible feeling in the world, and after an hour alone with him, I was wheeled into my recovery room where my husband was waiting, and we were finally together as a family. 

My labor was long and uncomfortable, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, and my little Zachary was worth it.