I'm baacckk
So guess what? I had my baby last Tuesday. Fricken crazy. I woke up Monday morning and was having a lot of pain right around where my right ovary is. An hour after I woke up, I thought I was dying. DF managed to get the ok to turn around and come back home even though he hadn't even made it into the shop yet. I was outside waiting for him on the steps, sobbing and writhing by the time he showed up. We got to the hospital and they determined that I wasn't in labor and they had no clue what my deal was. I think they kind of thought I was being a wussy about the pain. Except no. They gave me morphine, which did jack and some other stuff, whatever it was didn't work. Eventually, they sent me home because I was having a break in the pain and they took that as a sign that I was better. By the time I walked out to the car, I was hurting again, by the time we got back to the house, I couldn't walk. I crawled into bed with Jane, braying like a cow. She was terrified, I am sure. Then we went back to the hospital and DF asserted that they figure out what the hell was wrong. They gave me more morphine (which was a joke) and monitored me and the baby for another 8 million hours. I was having regular contractions, so they thought maybe I was just going to progress and go into real labor (I was only dilated 2cm all day), but I never did. The day went on and turned into the night and this is where my memory fades in and out. I was apparently delirious and hallucinating. I reportedly tried to get out of bed a bunch of times and was having conversations with myself and other imagined people and I kept saying I had to go, though I really was in no condition to stand. I have memories of DF and the nurse trying to get me back into bed, but that's really it. They gave me LOTS of morphine, some ambien, a muscle relaxer, some demerol and some adervent. All but the adervent bounced off of my like baby tylenol. The genius who finally thought of adervent insisted it would knock me out as soon as it hit my system. It didn't quite do that, but I was at least able to start dozing off and stop crying. Then five seconds after I went to sleep, they decided to do a CT scan, so it was DF's unhappy task to get his very drugged wife to drink a ton of this banana flavored crap. He says I would take a sip and fall back to sleep or start to take a drink and then it would fall back down the straw... apparently I was not cooperating. We never did find out what the scan said, but after that they did a hard core ultrasound and I guess that is where they finally figured out what was going on-- I had a cyst on my right ovary and the asshole cyst was engulfing my ovary and had managed to wrap a fallopian tube up, too. So the cyst was all twisted up in there and that is where the pain was coming from.
Sooo... enter C-Section. They hadn't wanted to deliver me up to this point because the baby wasn't in any distress and I was only 36 weeks, 2 days. Once they realized that the cyst wasn't going to go away and the pain could not be managed, they knew delivery was the only option. What happened after this point is really blurry. I remember signing some consent forms and I remember DF changing into scrubs and I remember lots of doctors talking to me. They took me into the OR and gave me the spinal and settled me all in and then DF came in and they got to work. I felt nothing at all. Though I was acutely aware of the five times I loudly farted once I was numb. I said to the anesthesiologist, "I can't believe that just happened." She said no one even noticed. Bless her heart. It *was* pretty loud in there, but I am sure everyone heard. I have no clue how long the surgery took or if I was even awake for all of it... at that point, I had been awake since 0545 on Monday morning and DF says I went into surgery around 1320 on Tuesday. I had also not eaten anything other than ice chips since Sunday night. Once they got our baby out, they lifted him over the partition to show him to us. I reached up to touch him, but DF was on my IV or something. Then DF left me to go cut the cord and watch him get washed and stuff. I tried to stay awake... the anesthesiologist was really nice and she was talking to me. Next thing I know, there's a baby right next to my face. DF took some pretty comical pictures of this moment. I look really drugged and amazed. After they got the baby out, they had to go to work on that damn dirty cyst. It killed the fallopian tube, but my ovary was ok. It was roughly the size of a large peach, I was told. Nice. Then I was in recovery. The only thing I remember about recovery was that I had to stay there until I had enough feeling to be able to lift my butt off the bed. For some reason, this seemed like a really important goal to me; I remember trying REALLY hard to lift up. I do not remember getting up to my room in the maternity ward at all. I don't really remember anything with any reliability from Monday night on until sometime on Wednesday when I was coherent enough to know what was going on.
HOLY CRAP, C-SECTIONS HURT. The rest of the week I spent a lot of time being asked about my bowel movements and trying not to die everytime I moved. DF was absolutely wonderful- he slept on a futon next to my bed the whole time and made me love him more with how great he handled everything.
But here's the good stuff: Aiden Paul Ford is his name. :) He weighed 7 pounds, 9 ounces (can you imagine how much bigger he would have been in a month??) and he has super dark green eyes. Though I came home today, he's still in the hospital, unfortunately. He had an issue with some air in the space around his left lung that was preventing it from expanding completely. The air was taken out with a needle and the remainder of it dissipated on its own, but he's still on a very small amount of oxygen and can't come home until he goes 24 hours without it. He is also having to learn to eat... apparently sucking is something babies learn during their 36th week in the womb. He's doing pretty well, though, and we expect to get to bring him home in a few days. He's the cutest baby ever (no bias, of course). All the doctors were impressed at how big he was and said he really wasn't premie at all. At first, it looked like he was going to have to be transfered down to the Balboa Naval Hospital, because Camp Pendleton doesn't have a NICU, but fortunately, there was a neonatologist who was just called to AD from the IRR who happened to be at the hospital and he felt that he could manage Aiden's condition. I would have been so sad if he'd had to go down there. Such a sweet little baby.
My husband was the hero of the week, though. I swear. He was so supportive and loving in every way possible. I felt so bad for him when I was in all that pain... you could tell how hard of a time he was having. My poor husband. A nurse who came to see me the evening after the c-section said he was whispering under his breath, "My poor, sweet wife." ::wipes tear away:: He was amazing, though. He managed to clean the entire house and buy me a breast pump and make sure I always got my meds on time and somehow stay at my side the whole time. I am certainly blessed to have a husband like him. Even when I was disgusting and he had to come help me pull up my underwear, he never batted an eye. As I write this, he's in the living room putting together my breast pump. I always appreciated him before, but this week has made me even happier that God brought us together.
We have a bajillion pictures, I'll post some later, but I must go sit somewhere more comfortahle and visit with my husband and convince Jane that everything is ok. Poor little kitty. Last time she saw me, I was crying at the top of my lungs and then all week long, DF and his parents were in and out of the house. She's all traumatized and stuff.
David's Addendum
Unsuprisingly Jen, being heavily sedated for the first two days of the ordeal, is unclear on a few points and I thought I'd jump in and get the chronology in order.
When we first arrived at the hospital the nurse consulted with a midwife initially. I had no idea midwife was a job in the Navy, but turns out it is. In any case the midwife without examining Jen, perscribed her Percocete and told the nurse to send her home. We, um, declined. Jen wanted an injection. The nurse told her that we'd have to stay in the hospital if we had an injection. That, strangely, was not a problem for Jen. She just wanted the pain to stop NOW.
I had high hopes for the Morphine. They put an IV into her arm and injected 5 cc of Morphine into the IV. Then they gave her another 10 cc's in the arm. The Morphine in the IV was supposed to kick in "really fast." We waited in vain for any change to her pain. At long last, after about an hour, Jen quieted down. Up until that point she had been constantly saying "Ow, Owie, Ow ow ow ow, ouchie ow, Owie." I started to relax at that point - I figured the pain was probably (hopefully) going to go away as quickly as it came. But after only 20 minutes of dozing she started to moan again.
After about 8 hours at the hospital and 5 more cc's of Morphine (IV) Jen had quieted down somewhat and, she's right, they sent her home. We went downstairs and she rescheduled the appointement she was supposed to have had that day with her doctor. We filled out the early admission paperwork and I got her (tiny) bottle of Percocete. By the time we were walking to the car Jen was already in a lot of pain. She took 2 pills as soon as we hit the car but the pain got worse and worse as we drove.
Can you imagine how horrible it is to see your wife on her hands and knees in the living room with her head on a chair sobbing in agony after being sent home from the hospital?
She had me call a family friend who is a nurse. She told me in pretty plain english to get Jen back to the hospital and MAKE them figure out what was wrong. She was right - I never should have let her go home in pain the first time. So we made our way (slowly) back to the car and drove back to the hospital. Once there I told them they needed to try again - the pain was back and worse than before.
Thankfully they took us seriously this time. They put Jen in a room and within moments I had to leave the room because there was no room for me with all the nurses and doctors in the room. It was nice...not that it did much good. The next 20 hours were so awful for both of us, Jen in particular. The pain was too much for the drugs they were giving her.
Somebody asked about all the medication, in light of the baby. The meds they gave to her were safe for the baby, and she had a heart monitor on her belly keeping track of Aiden's heartbeat. He was rock solid the whole time, and that's why they didn't want to deliver him. If he'd been in trouble they would have delivered but the *massive* amounts of pain Jen was in wasn't causing Aiden to freak out at all. So they were against doing a C-Section.
Jen was a little confused about the tests, too. The Ultrasound was done at about 1am on Tuesday. It showed the Cyst on her ovary, but they didn't think it could be possibly causing the pain. It was the Cat Scan at 9am on Tuesday that showed it a bit clearer. The "morning shift" doctor, who had examined Jen on Monday, finally decided that it was time to act. Since the cyst, as shown on the Cat scan, was probably going to kill her ovary they had to go in and fix it. If it got "necrotic" (great word, scary concept when applied to something inside my wife) then it could cause even more issues. They couldn't do surgery to fix the cyst without taking the baby so even though we were about a week from full term and 4 weeks from the due date they decided to act.
As to everything else...I don't think I did anything special. Jen's really brave and I love her very much. She doesn't give herself enough credit, and me too much.
David out.
Sooo... enter C-Section. They hadn't wanted to deliver me up to this point because the baby wasn't in any distress and I was only 36 weeks, 2 days. Once they realized that the cyst wasn't going to go away and the pain could not be managed, they knew delivery was the only option. What happened after this point is really blurry. I remember signing some consent forms and I remember DF changing into scrubs and I remember lots of doctors talking to me. They took me into the OR and gave me the spinal and settled me all in and then DF came in and they got to work. I felt nothing at all. Though I was acutely aware of the five times I loudly farted once I was numb. I said to the anesthesiologist, "I can't believe that just happened." She said no one even noticed. Bless her heart. It *was* pretty loud in there, but I am sure everyone heard. I have no clue how long the surgery took or if I was even awake for all of it... at that point, I had been awake since 0545 on Monday morning and DF says I went into surgery around 1320 on Tuesday. I had also not eaten anything other than ice chips since Sunday night. Once they got our baby out, they lifted him over the partition to show him to us. I reached up to touch him, but DF was on my IV or something. Then DF left me to go cut the cord and watch him get washed and stuff. I tried to stay awake... the anesthesiologist was really nice and she was talking to me. Next thing I know, there's a baby right next to my face. DF took some pretty comical pictures of this moment. I look really drugged and amazed. After they got the baby out, they had to go to work on that damn dirty cyst. It killed the fallopian tube, but my ovary was ok. It was roughly the size of a large peach, I was told. Nice. Then I was in recovery. The only thing I remember about recovery was that I had to stay there until I had enough feeling to be able to lift my butt off the bed. For some reason, this seemed like a really important goal to me; I remember trying REALLY hard to lift up. I do not remember getting up to my room in the maternity ward at all. I don't really remember anything with any reliability from Monday night on until sometime on Wednesday when I was coherent enough to know what was going on.
HOLY CRAP, C-SECTIONS HURT. The rest of the week I spent a lot of time being asked about my bowel movements and trying not to die everytime I moved. DF was absolutely wonderful- he slept on a futon next to my bed the whole time and made me love him more with how great he handled everything.
But here's the good stuff: Aiden Paul Ford is his name. :) He weighed 7 pounds, 9 ounces (can you imagine how much bigger he would have been in a month??) and he has super dark green eyes. Though I came home today, he's still in the hospital, unfortunately. He had an issue with some air in the space around his left lung that was preventing it from expanding completely. The air was taken out with a needle and the remainder of it dissipated on its own, but he's still on a very small amount of oxygen and can't come home until he goes 24 hours without it. He is also having to learn to eat... apparently sucking is something babies learn during their 36th week in the womb. He's doing pretty well, though, and we expect to get to bring him home in a few days. He's the cutest baby ever (no bias, of course). All the doctors were impressed at how big he was and said he really wasn't premie at all. At first, it looked like he was going to have to be transfered down to the Balboa Naval Hospital, because Camp Pendleton doesn't have a NICU, but fortunately, there was a neonatologist who was just called to AD from the IRR who happened to be at the hospital and he felt that he could manage Aiden's condition. I would have been so sad if he'd had to go down there. Such a sweet little baby.
My husband was the hero of the week, though. I swear. He was so supportive and loving in every way possible. I felt so bad for him when I was in all that pain... you could tell how hard of a time he was having. My poor husband. A nurse who came to see me the evening after the c-section said he was whispering under his breath, "My poor, sweet wife." ::wipes tear away:: He was amazing, though. He managed to clean the entire house and buy me a breast pump and make sure I always got my meds on time and somehow stay at my side the whole time. I am certainly blessed to have a husband like him. Even when I was disgusting and he had to come help me pull up my underwear, he never batted an eye. As I write this, he's in the living room putting together my breast pump. I always appreciated him before, but this week has made me even happier that God brought us together.
We have a bajillion pictures, I'll post some later, but I must go sit somewhere more comfortahle and visit with my husband and convince Jane that everything is ok. Poor little kitty. Last time she saw me, I was crying at the top of my lungs and then all week long, DF and his parents were in and out of the house. She's all traumatized and stuff.
David's Addendum
Unsuprisingly Jen, being heavily sedated for the first two days of the ordeal, is unclear on a few points and I thought I'd jump in and get the chronology in order.
When we first arrived at the hospital the nurse consulted with a midwife initially. I had no idea midwife was a job in the Navy, but turns out it is. In any case the midwife without examining Jen, perscribed her Percocete and told the nurse to send her home. We, um, declined. Jen wanted an injection. The nurse told her that we'd have to stay in the hospital if we had an injection. That, strangely, was not a problem for Jen. She just wanted the pain to stop NOW.
I had high hopes for the Morphine. They put an IV into her arm and injected 5 cc of Morphine into the IV. Then they gave her another 10 cc's in the arm. The Morphine in the IV was supposed to kick in "really fast." We waited in vain for any change to her pain. At long last, after about an hour, Jen quieted down. Up until that point she had been constantly saying "Ow, Owie, Ow ow ow ow, ouchie ow, Owie." I started to relax at that point - I figured the pain was probably (hopefully) going to go away as quickly as it came. But after only 20 minutes of dozing she started to moan again.
After about 8 hours at the hospital and 5 more cc's of Morphine (IV) Jen had quieted down somewhat and, she's right, they sent her home. We went downstairs and she rescheduled the appointement she was supposed to have had that day with her doctor. We filled out the early admission paperwork and I got her (tiny) bottle of Percocete. By the time we were walking to the car Jen was already in a lot of pain. She took 2 pills as soon as we hit the car but the pain got worse and worse as we drove.
Can you imagine how horrible it is to see your wife on her hands and knees in the living room with her head on a chair sobbing in agony after being sent home from the hospital?
She had me call a family friend who is a nurse. She told me in pretty plain english to get Jen back to the hospital and MAKE them figure out what was wrong. She was right - I never should have let her go home in pain the first time. So we made our way (slowly) back to the car and drove back to the hospital. Once there I told them they needed to try again - the pain was back and worse than before.
Thankfully they took us seriously this time. They put Jen in a room and within moments I had to leave the room because there was no room for me with all the nurses and doctors in the room. It was nice...not that it did much good. The next 20 hours were so awful for both of us, Jen in particular. The pain was too much for the drugs they were giving her.
Somebody asked about all the medication, in light of the baby. The meds they gave to her were safe for the baby, and she had a heart monitor on her belly keeping track of Aiden's heartbeat. He was rock solid the whole time, and that's why they didn't want to deliver him. If he'd been in trouble they would have delivered but the *massive* amounts of pain Jen was in wasn't causing Aiden to freak out at all. So they were against doing a C-Section.
Jen was a little confused about the tests, too. The Ultrasound was done at about 1am on Tuesday. It showed the Cyst on her ovary, but they didn't think it could be possibly causing the pain. It was the Cat Scan at 9am on Tuesday that showed it a bit clearer. The "morning shift" doctor, who had examined Jen on Monday, finally decided that it was time to act. Since the cyst, as shown on the Cat scan, was probably going to kill her ovary they had to go in and fix it. If it got "necrotic" (great word, scary concept when applied to something inside my wife) then it could cause even more issues. They couldn't do surgery to fix the cyst without taking the baby so even though we were about a week from full term and 4 weeks from the due date they decided to act.
As to everything else...I don't think I did anything special. Jen's really brave and I love her very much. She doesn't give herself enough credit, and me too much.
David out.