Baby George and Feeling Useless

I never expected a recovery from childbirth to be so difficult. I never expected so many complications.

On Sunday my water broke at 3:35 a.m. when I got up to go to the bathroom. I wasn't sure it had, but then the contractions started within a few minutes and leakage became obvious. I decided to let Justin sleep as long as possible, because the contractions were only 10 minutes apart. I brushed my teeth and started looking for a few last minute things for the hospital bag, but the contractions were getting closer together, about every 7 minutes, and it was difficult.

Justin stumbled out of the bedroom around 4:15 and asked what was going on. I said I was in labor, he asked if he could take a quick shower, and I said yes.

I started gathering clothes for the girls for the week, but contractions were becoming excruciating at every 5 minutes. Hannah woke up, I told her what was going on, and she woke up Abigail...who was very upset and vocal about being woken up from her "good dreams" and "deep sleep".

Justin got out of the shower, called his brother, and we were in the car really quickly, but contractions were awful. Completely horrible.

I called the hospital to let them know we were coming, and couldn’t talk through a contraction. I said they were every five minutes, but it was actually closer to 4. We dropped the kids off at Travis and Christina's and zipped over to the hospital, and contractions were every 3 minutes.

I got in at 5:10, and thank goodness they were expecting us. It's probably the only reason I was allowed to get an epidural. Every contraction was agony while the anesthesiologist prepped me. I got the epidural in just after 5:30, but blah, there was no medicine in it yet. Finally medicine got put in it, and pain slowly started to dissipate. It was barely working, but it took the edge off just enough for active labor to explode forth like a waterfall of fire and lava and boiling water that spatters violently out of a pot and screams against the hot stove top.

I will never say I can do labor without an epidural again. I would have died. Even with it barely starting to work.

Baby George was out after maybe 5 pushes after I insisted on an episiotomy before the fifth one. Placenta came out easily, and I thought that was the end of my pain.

Ha.

Oh how naïve I was.

It took us a while to leave the Labor & Delivery floor. The nurse helped me get cleaned off, put an absorbent mat thing under me and a rectangular diaper pad... thing. I continued to have pain in my uterus but thought it was okay.

The nurse was checking my vitals when she heard a dripping sound. Justin later said it was a puddle of blood on the floor. I didn't realize how big it was since I couldn't see, but I guess I had soaked through the large pad and the mat. Oops...

When we finally made it to the Recovery floor another doctor at my OBGYN place was on staff and came to check in, but I thought everything was normal and said not to worry. I fed George, but within the hour my bleeding and pain got worse, and I had him sent to the nursery and the doctor called back in. Within a minute of his doctorly investigation and kneading, a series of blood clots that looked like a mushed up 2nd placenta came spilling out.

He left after giving some instructions to the nurses, and I thought all was well. Unfortunately all was not well. I lost another few large blood clots and was feeling a bit dizzy but largely ignored it because my pain was manageable, and I assumed that meant I was fine.

Our lunch was brought in, and I wanted to hurry and eat it before I had to feed George at 11:30. The salmon I'd ordered looked pretty good, so I decided to start with that. I inclined the bed upward and started feeling dizzy, but I didn't pay any mind, leaned forward, and took a bite of the fish.

Immediately my ears started to ring. I struggled to chew the bite in my mouth. I couldn't breathe, and the room was spinning. I tried to reach for the phone to call my nurse, but I couldn't focus on it...like my hand didn't know what to do with it.

By this time I think Justin realized something might be off. He stood somewhere around me and asked what was wrong.

I said I couldn't breathe. Justin later said that my skin turned white "like a ghost". A nurse randomly opened the door. I think I said I couldn't breathe again.

I don't remember much of what happened in those next few minutes. I was told later that a rapid response alert was issued to prevent the situation from turning into cardiac arrest. All I remember was that people were around me and I vaguely recognized that I still couldn't breathe, but it no longer seemed important.

In hindsight the most alarming thing about the whole ordeal was realizing how I had no control over my life and couldn't even muster the ability to care or worry about it.

Someone turned on a bright light. Someone else put oxygen tubes up my nose. Someone else hooked an emergency IV in my left arm with something to raised my blood pressure. A doctor held my hand. I recognized his voice as the doctor who had helped me earlier, and I was filled with a feeling of reassurance. Nurses told me later there were at least a dozen people in the room working on me in various ways, and it reminded me of bees bustling and buzzing around a hive. A blood transfusion was ordered for me, and the oxygen tubes were switched with a mask.

As I regained clarity I wished that I had taken a bite of something else besides fish as it's pungent odor permeated the oxygen within the mask, but I also knew that feeling alert enough to want to complain was a good sign.

Then I remembered George. Was he okay? How was he going to eat? What time was it?

I couldn't move my limbs very well, so I knew there wasn't really much that could be done. So after checking with Justin, I gave a nurse permission to feed George formula through a tiny tube attached to her pinky.

Long story short, I got the transfusion, needed another one on Monday, and needed a third one on Tuesday. George is breastfeeding okay in spite of the setbacks, and recovery is way harder than I thought it would be.

I wish I had prepared more. I wish the kids had more clothes laid out and ready for them for school. I wish I had more strength.

When I got home I cried a lot and felt useless and weak. Last night was really hard, and I thought I might have to go to the hospital again, because I was dizzy, short of breath, and my heart felt like it was too fast, but fortunately that did not happen.

I'm still having trouble, but I feel measurably less hopeless. Linda volunteered to come over, and I'm surprised (and grateful...very grateful) she'll be able to drive the distance over and over.

I'm still not sure why this happened. I don't think I'll be able to have any more kids after this. At least...I don't think I would survive it. With Lydia I had the easiest delivery and recovery ever. I was foolish to assume I could bank on something like that again, but still...there's no way I could have expected this. I'm just glad and grateful that George is doing so well, and that I have friends and family here whom I have been able to rely on in this time of need. It's difficult to feel so low...knowing that I need the help, but I'm glad it's there, just the same.