Well, here I am. Two weeks post partum and truly and honestly? I feel great. I don't even feel like I had a surgery. My back is still sore from the horrendous spinal but other than that and the fact that my feet are swollen like miniature blimps, I feel fabulous. My incision is sealed and flat, unlike with my previous section. At this point one year ago, my section was full of edema (fluid) and there was talk of reopening it and letting it heal from the inside out. Yick! I am so relieved that hasn't even been an issue this time. Lessy (which is Little Nameless' new pseudonym in case you were wondering) is doing well. Her chord is hanging on by a thread and I am waiting patiently for it to fall off so I can bathe her. She is starting to look like she wears gel in her hair its so shiny. She has her two week appointment on Wednesday (as well as Buzzy has her shots that day. Not looking forward to that but my mom is going with me so that should make things a bit easier)
In case you have been reading my tweets, the situation between Myturo and I has been more or less diffused. I think we are currently in the 'friends' status of our relationship. Not really sure, as he isn't wearing his wedding ring anymore and I haven't returned his green card to him. But more on that soon, as Buzzy just woke from her nap. Oh the joys of being a mommy.
Much to my dismay, August 3rd came without so much as a super painful contraction or any water leaking let alone breaking. So at 10am I was headed off to the hospital. I had already had blood drawn earlier that week and all the paperwork had been filled out prior to the day so all I had to do was get in and get prepped. I was supposed to be prepped in triage but there were two women in the two triage rooms already so I was taken to where I would recover alongside the operating room. The first thing they did was strap me up with the belts to monitor Breezy and contractions. I was contracting just enough that I felt uncomfortable and with the nerves and anxiety of what was about to happen I was not the happiest camper. But the nurse was funny and had a good sense of humor. The first thing she did was give me a warming gown. This gown is made of vinyl with a hose attachment that can either blow in cool or warm air. Needless to say, moments later I was the biggest puff-a-lump you'd ever seen lying there with my vinyl gown all inflated around me. Not to mention the air hose was right in my girlie parts and a cold wind tunnel is an understatement of how that felt. BTW sorry for the poor quality of the photos. I had to take pix with my phone of the photos that were already developed.
No, that is not all me...lol... this is the hose gown...
Next the nurse attempted to put in my IV. Being that she was the head nurse I would have thought she would have been able to do just fine, but she ended up sticking the needle half in and half out of my vein causing the surrounding tissues to build with fluid. Finally my anesthesiologist came in to talk to me, saw the problem and reinserted my IV into my hand. It was much more comfortable there.
This is the bruise left behind after the swelling of the fluid in my arm tissue went down:
I asked him while I had the chance (even though I had been told time and time again, no) if my mom could be present during my spinal. Without hesitation he said sure and I was elated because the impending doom of the spinal was forefront in my mind. Meanwhile while I have mini anxiety attacks imagining the huge needles, they are still poking and prodding me, testing my blood sugars, cleaning and shaving the area where the incision will be. I am so happy my mom was able to be there because I would have been freaking out already if she hadn't been there. I couldn't help but shed a few helpless, exhausted and nervous tears if though she was there, so her absence would have been horrific.
Finally the time came to go into the operating room. Dun dun dun dun. They were still putting the table together when we walked in so I stood there in my fashionable drapes gown until everything was set. They had me sit on the side of the bed, with my mom standing in front of me. I am so glad she was there. What happened next would not have been tolerable if she hadn't been there. The anesthesiologist cleaned my back and gave me the first numbing shot. It actually wasn't that big of a deal. I had built it up so much in my mind that it was a cinch. Then he placed one of the spinal needles. I felt tingles all down my right side. This occurred three more times (three more numbing needles, three more poorly placed spinals with increasingly larger gauged needles) Then I thought I would die. With one of the needles he must have hit a nerve. From my dazed, numbed and increasingly frantic point of view this is what I felt. I felt the numbing shot. The pressure of the spinal needle and then as if it had slipped out of his hand and sprayed cold cold fluid all over my left leg, and then immediately set a torch to my thigh and set it on fire. I was crying for them to wipe off whatever was on my leg. That it was burning, but they assured me there was nothing on my leg and kept asking me if the burning was subsiding.
From my mom's point of view, she said that above all the doctors masks all she could see were their eyes and none of them seemed to understand what was going on. She said she watched as needle after needle was attempted and set aside on a tray. I had thought there were only 5 numbing attempts and 5 spinal attempts but from what my mom says there were many more. I must have blocked them out or felt so numb, I didn't notice. Finally, with the largest gauge needle (the one he said had the most potential for the side effects of a spinal headache) the anesthesiologist was able to place the spinal. This is the aftermath of so many shots.
Immediately my bottom began to to feel warm and tingly, my legs did too and soon everything from my chest down was warm and heavy and tingly. I couldn't feel my chest cavity to breathe so I had to concentrate heavily on deep slow breaths. They tested the effects of the spinal and began the surgery. My mom sat at my head and we talked and she tried to comfort me as I was still having mini anxiety attacks from not being able to feel my own breathing. Then they announced that Breezy would be born soon and my mom took a couple pictures
and went to stand with the pediatric nurse while they cleaned and did all they needed to do with her. In the end it was fairly anti climatic in lue of all that had just happened prior but I was ecstatic that my baby girl was born. I cried and then promptly fell asleep under the influence of the heavy anesthesia.
It was pointed out to me tonight by my mom and my sister that it is not simply 'Irish Spring Soap', that I have taken such a obsession with liking to. No, that would be far to simple. You see, apparently there are different flavors of Irish Spring soap and it was pointed out to me that the Original Irish Spring Soap is green. Plain green. Such as this:
Well, my soap is not green, but blue with crystals. So come to find out, I am NOT in love with Irish Spring soap. I am in love with Irish Spring Moisture Blast with Hydrocrystals soap. Unfortunately, I was unable to find a picture. Poo. LOL
On a different note, a few people have asked me if I have PICA. The answer is no. I have never ACTUALLY been tempted to taste the soap or the lemon pledge. Scouts Honor - Even though I have never been a scout. LOL
It has been said by a well reknowned President and by many others before and after, I'm sure, that "There is nothing to fear except fear itself."
I can name several things I fear, and have an immediate fear of and for that do not include 'fear itself'.
#1: My scheduled cesarean on Monday. No, I am not actually scared of the operation. I fear the ginormous (yes, gigantic + enormous) needle they are going to stick in my back that they call a spinal block. I had an epidural with Buzzy but I was so far gone in my pangs of labor that I didn't feel anything but a small pinch from the initial numbing shot. I fear the pain of this shot, having had no significant pain prior to numb it. I also fear the recovery. Recovering from having your guts sliced open horizontally about 4-5 inches long and a 8+ lb child yanked through is no walk in the park. I will never forget the feeling that my bladder and intestines would pop through at any moment. Not to mention the pain of having the staples removed from under skin that is trying to heal over them. Not to mention the itchiness from that healing skin, trying to heal over them. Not to mention the fear of infection from too much water retention in the wounded area. Not to mention the idea of reopening the wound to drain the fluid and then leaving it open to 'heal from the inside out'. No, none of that was fear itself. That's for sure. Thank God, the latter didn't happen. But I do fear that it may this time. I also fear for Little Nameless. Regardless of her obvious health and vitality inside my womb right now there are always chances something could go wrong. No good and sincere mother can honestly say that they do not fear for their child's life the minute that life begins within her.
#2: I am fearful that Buzzy will be traumatized by my sudden disappearance for 3-5 days. I fear she won't forgive me and will be devastated that I would leave her, despite the good hands I leave her in. (Yes, I believe she loves me that much...LOL)
#3: I fear for my marriage and the impact it can/will have on my girls. I fear I will never be able to hold my tongue and my husband will never grow up and together we will ruin one of the most beautiful things two people can share: Their family. I fear that in a fit of rage one day one of us will do something stupid such as leave and leave for good. I fear he would take my girls from me and hop the border, taking them to a country they have never visited, to a family they have never met and they would be without me. I fear they would be scared. I envision Buzzy's face when I ask Myturo to come in, in the middle of the night to lay with her and give her her bottle while I make my 32nd trip to the bathrom. Her wide brown tear filled eyes as she cries and screams mama, muhmuh, meme, maymay, mama! trying every possible form of the word mama to get me to come back. And in that instance I am only going twenty feet away to the bathroom where she can see me. It breaks my heart to ever think she might be taken from me.
#4: On a completely unrelated subject, I fear for my country and the people who reside in it. I fear under the Obama administration and the crooked and negligent policies that are being tossed around in congress. I fear for our rights, our liberties and the foundation that up until now has been rock solid beneath us as a nation. I fear what this means for my grandparent's and their health. I fear what this means for my girls and their future. I fear what it means for my husband and his status here in the United States and what that would mean for our marriage.
#5: I fear the unknown and the fact that life's most traumatic, tragic and devastating events generally come by surprise. Death, accidents, injuries, illness, loss. I fear these and I fear they will come when I least expect it and am least able to cope.
One thing I do not fear, though, is God. I know He will not allow me more pain than I can handle in the delivery room. I know he will hold both Little Nameless and me during the operation and regardless of the outcome, it will glorify Him. I know that while I am away He will wrap His comforting arms around Buzzy and my absence will make her stronger, more independent and teach her trust, patience, understanding. I know that within our beautiful country God knows who stands for right and who stands for wrong, who stands for Him and who doesn't and justice will be served, in this life or after regardless. And I know that the unknown is part of how God keeps us mentally healthy, how He teaches us life lessons and how we don't ultimately destroy everything He has planned for us. I know that when death, accidents, injuries, illness and loss occurs it is to glorify Him. When you walk with Him, He will not let you fall, but carry you through your toughest hours. I must remember this. I will remember this.
On a completely different note, I have to say I have found yet another smell, that if it were edible I would gladly eat it. Yes, I am still in love with Irish Spring soap. In fact even when I think about it I feel the urge to go wash my hands and stick my nose all over the beautiful blue bar. LOL But my 2nd love is Lemon Pledge. Yep, give me a can of lemon pledge in one hand and a bar of Irish Spring soap in the other and I am one happppppy girl. LOL