The beginning of a new life.....

Well, it's been a while. I haven't even looked at this thing in ages (okay 12 or so weeks... which = ages). I've been a bit busy with... hmm... a baby?! I really didn't think I would feel the need to re-up this blog thing, but soooo much has been floating through my silly brain that I forget so quickly.... so the best way for me to remember it all is through this... and b/c the good-'ol fashioned type of documenting involving a pen and paper just seems to take too long, now-a-days. So lucky for you (my 5 followers), you get to share in what would be, a journal entry on the post second baby's birth.

So, big surprise, I popped. Yup... another c-section. Although it was planned that way, it didn't happen quite as planned. Of course, true to form, I had to make it interesting. I think the last time I wrote was the week before I went into "labor". I was complaining about how time felt like it was moving so slowly.... well, that last week was a year in my mind. That last week, the doc's had me come in for blood pressure checks (abbriv'd "BP" from now on) THREE TIMES! They suspected pre-eclampsia... again. So, in I went Monday, then again Thursday, and back again on Saturday. I had blood drawn for the second time on Thursday which found higher than normal levels of uric acid in my blood..... (wait a min, I've heard this story before... oh yeah, it's how Ali was born). I thought for sure they'd whisk me in and do the c-section early... which was scheduled for the following Tuesday. But nope.... they just wanted to make me suffer. So anyway... back I went again on Sat. We had company visiting ( my bother-in-law and his fiancee, Karyn) who offered to watch Ali for us while we ran up and back for yet another BP check. The night before Karyn goes, "wouldn't it be so cool if you had the baby while we were here?!" I told her that I'd given up with the whole "early labor" thing and not to get her hopes up.... but, I'd felt a little weird, some contractions, but then again... it could've been my head b/c I just wanted to go SOO badly. Anyway... off we went to the doc (which is 45 mins from our house) and as we were leaving I said to Ali, "See you in a little while, sweetie!" Looking back... that was the statement that sealed the deal! We get there, they hook me up to the monitors for the "non-stress" test... which, I've always thought was a funny name b/c the mear thought of the NEED for a "non-stress" test makes you stressed. Ironic. Anyway... of course my BP was high again... 130 something over high 70's... I think.. and the baby's heart rate kept having decelerations.... AND I was apparently contracting. So... they sent me across the street for some "monitoring". Seriously? You're not going to just deliver me?? It's like... 3 days from my scheduled date and you're going to try and make me wait!????? Ha.. that's what you think! We get there, my BP keeps climbing, they take more blood work, uric acid levels still high, they monitor me some more, they ask me what I've eaten last and when, they make me wait, they take down my medical history and medications, they make me wait, den leaves to get food, I get up to pee 5 times, the woman across from me in triage pukes, she's only 30 weeks, the nurse comes back to check my BP, it's still climbing, she tells me to lay on my side, they make me wait, nurse comes back several times to check my BP, they make me wait several times, Den comes back, Den leaves again to call Joe and Karyn, they make me wait, they take my BP, Den comes back, the nurse comes back... WITH THE DOCTOR, and she asks... "So.. do you want to have a baby today?", and the heavenly bells rang!!!!!

There was no wasting time... off they drag me in my fashionably chic hospital gown...complete with open-butt air flow... through the halls of the maternity ward to room 319.... scratch that... 316 (319 was the nice, big corner room with the good view.... that was "dirty"... so 316 it is.) Here's what I thought: "Great... "16" I hate 6's... in fact, I have a phobia of 6's.. it stems from the whole 666 devil number... yeah, if I see "666" I freak and think something bad is going to happen.... once... I was even getting "666" text messages from a mysterious number that "didn't exist" and would delete themselves when I finally got the balls up to go to verizon and have them trace it.... yeah, so I hate the number 6. So, of course I'm thinking... something bad is going to happen... I'm going to die on the table... I'm going to have a baby with 3 arms and 2 noses.... I need to calm the F down and shut off the "6" phobia for the day. The nurse comes in to give me an IV so that I can get in a bag of saline before the surgery. Poor thing... I made he question her medical degree.... she tried 3 times then called in the nurse who never fails.... well, sorry hun... I broke your streak... my veins are like the Olympic qualifiers....only the elite belong. So, she calls in the phlebotomist, whose whole job in life is to put in IV's (or so I think... what do I know). Good guy... was in the gulf war... got banged up a lot, came home... landed this job...I know I'm missing parts but forgive me... I was being poked in the arms... yes plural... about 5 times at this point. And that's not counting the "re-adjusts" where they would pull out, then shove back in, then blow up my arm with saline which just proved that it wasn't "in correctly" and didn't exactly feel like a Swedish massage... The phlebotomist (is that even the right word?? I don't know, but you get the idea) starts to sweat... Bob... that was his name... I look around and think, this room is shitty... damn 16... it's raining and cold (well, it's March in New England, i guess I can't expect much more). This is taking forever.... he chuckles that I'm the hardest he's ever come into contact with... says my veins just clamp down when he sticks me... hmmm weird... could it be b/c they don't like to be stuck? The doctor comes in and asks if we're ready to go yet... the nurse laughs... she's a sarcastic middle-aged lady who had clearly been doing this job for a little too long. She's lost the whole... "compassion" part and replaced it with dry humor... which took some getting used to. So, the doc comes in and asks to try... she thinks she's found a vein... the whole time I'm fearing that this whole vein problem is secretly the sign for a drug problem like heroin... I'm planning my excuses in anticipation of them asking... why? Oh.. b/c I'm pretty much crazy at this point... I don't even know what heroin looks like... and FINALLY... after 7 tries... it's in.

Fast forward to the operating room... that sarcastic, dark humored nurse turns into a comfortable rock. She makes me feel at ease... like my mother would. I'm getting my spinal... the anaesthesiologist is a woman, the doc is a woman, and all the nurses are women.... I think that's pretty cool, then a weird sensation down my spinal canal and off to the left of my butt interrupts my thought. I flinch... oh no... was I supposed to move... I'm gonna be paralyzed... damn 6 I knew it! Wait.. I can still move my toes (just had to check)... I tell her what I felt, she tries again... it's a little less to the left this time, but none-the-less, the same feeling... She says that it's okay.... they lay me down, I start to loose sensation... all to slowly for my nerves and I start to fear they'll start too early.... I'm going to feel it! I tell them nervously that I can still move my feet.... the doctor assures me in that voice that most people would use to communicate with a 2 year old.... but in a sincere and comforting way... they put up that blue drape so I can't see anything... part of me wants to see it. The anaesthesiologist is so nice... she's so attentive to my needs the whole time.... explains it all... tells me why I'm feeling what I feel... then bumps up the drugs when I feel the awkward shoulder discomfort that sneaks through in a certain small percentage of patients... of course it would be me (damn 6). This time around feels so different... I remember it more. In a weird way I want it to last.... for that 1 hour.. everyone was there making sure I was okay... I felt "taken care of"... it's nice. Oh yeah... and somewhere in the midst of it all... RILEY WAS BORN!! He cries right away... and when Den tells me he weighed 8lbs 6ozs I thought I heard him wrong.... then I get a weird sense of accomplishment... like, yeeeeah... I did it! I carried a baby THAT big and all that complaining was actually justified! He's HUGE! They wrap him up, and bring him over to me... he looks mexican (no offense intended). I start to think of how we jokingly named him "Paco" after the dominican man who brought us on the world's worst, ghetto, snorkeling trip in the DR (the DR is also where he was conceived... hence the joke). I chuckle in my head... I'm wheeled back to recovery, I post a pic on facebook... b/c obviously that's the most important thing at that moment.... we call the parents... I miss Ali... and then I can't sleep. I'm deathly afraid he'll just stop breathing so I stay awake... watching him... itching my nose every other second thanks to the morphine (hate that). The nurse comes in and asks what's wrong... I tell her.. she offers to take him to the nursery so I can sleep.. I take her up on it (Den's obviously asleep by now... has been for a while). I still lie awake... itching.. not sleeping.. UGH.

Well... that was the first 24 hours... then after that, the world's worst pain set in for the next 24... no medication touched it and I cried and I cried and I did everything they told me to... I walked b/c they thought it was "gas"... (wasn't gas)... I laid on my belly b/c they thought it was "gas" (I told them I didn't think it was gas).... I took a "gas-x" b/c they thought it was "gas" (It's NOT F'ing GAS you a-holes give me some stronger drugs!.... please.) They realized it wasn't gas and upped my meds... it helped for about 3 hours... then returned with a vengeance... I writhed in pain, sweating, moaning, (Den slept), until finally I passed out... and when I woke up the next morning... the sun was shining (the last 3 days had been the worst, most miserable rain ever), and it was the day I was eligible to go home... I was happy. I showered, brushed my teeth, felt like a million bucks minus a few, and happily anticipated going home and starting our new life as a family of 4. A lot more happened in between but seriously... you're bored enough now. Another day, another post. Tonight I sit here... before the last day of my 12 week maternity leave.... I think I'm going to take advantage and go to bed w/o any work worries for the last time... Monday morning my life changes again.... back to being a working mother again, except this time it's a working mother of 2... and a 2-job working mother. OHHHHHHHH JOY :(