A tiny welcome to the world. (Part 3)
I barely remember the preparations for the c-section. The nurses went into high gear. Lab techs were called to take blood, leaving two nice bruises on my arm from a blown vein and a second attempt. The pain was also kicking into high gear and when the anesthesiologist came to speak with me the conversation quickly turned from a genial conversation to me begging him to make the pain go away.
Prior to this there was discussion about what to do with baby. We weren't quite to the magical 24 week point where babies are considered viable. By an early sonogram baby was measuring 23w6d. By my last menstrual period baby was considered 23w1d. By ovulation date she was 23w5d. A day's difference may not seem like much but at such a crucial point every day mattered.
The hospital I was at has a level 3 NICU appropriate for babies 28 weeks and older. This was the reason for my impending transfer to the other hospital. They could handle babies 24 weeks and older. I heard Colleen speaking to Dr. LK and ask what Dr. Flores from the NICU said about the situation. Apparently Dr. Flores said there was nothing they could or would do for baby as she was too little. I could barely believe that this doctor would let my little once die without even trying. Dr. LK said that she would get Dr. IK, my normal OB and a man highly regarded in the community and the hospital to speak with Dr. Flores. And apparently he did and whatever he said worked because somehow NICU was in the OR when I arrived. At the same time Dr. LK had been in contact with the doctors from the Level 4 NICU and they were going to send down a team to pick up baby and transport her to the level 4 NICU. I am so grateful and thankful for these wonderful people.
I can vaguely remember being wheeled in to the OR. There was a flurry of activity as everyone was prepping for me. The pain and contractions were getting much worse. I apparently have no tolerance for pain because I can remember begging and pleading for help. I remember lying on my side and pleading, "God, PLEASE, help me. Help me." And one of the doctors or nurses said we're working on it. As I was in great discomfort, trying to breathe through the intolerable contractions the anesthesiologist said, "Hold still." I felt him swab some disinfectant on my back and then heard, "This is going to burn but will numb the space." And burn it did. Then I felt some pressure and heard them say, "We're done. You should start to be able to feel it work." I could wiggle my toes and kept telling them that I could feel my legs. I have heard horror stories about epidurals not working and women feeling the incisions. I did not want to be one of those women.
T. had arrived by then and was escorted in. I remember thinking how handsome he looked in his blue scrubs. I told him how good he looked. :)
They put a sheet up close to my chin to block the view. I heard a faint, "Starting the incision" and then felt some pressure. I also started to feel nauseous. Luckily the anesthesiologist had mentioned that this and throwing up was a possibility and to let him know if I felt nauseous. I quickly mentioned this fact and even quicker they told me to turn my head to the left, unfortunately this was also towards T. And I started to spew bile. Ack. Poor T. I can't imagine what he must've been thinking as his wife was splayed out on an operating table spewing bile into a bag and seeing it suctioned out of my mouth. I remember saying to him, "I don't know how you're ever going to find me attractive again." He kindly didn't respond to my taunt. [This is where I stopped writing 7+ years ago. So much happened in that time. I will try to fill you in on the rest but my memories are a bit spotty.]
Prior to this there was discussion about what to do with baby. We weren't quite to the magical 24 week point where babies are considered viable. By an early sonogram baby was measuring 23w6d. By my last menstrual period baby was considered 23w1d. By ovulation date she was 23w5d. A day's difference may not seem like much but at such a crucial point every day mattered.
The hospital I was at has a level 3 NICU appropriate for babies 28 weeks and older. This was the reason for my impending transfer to the other hospital. They could handle babies 24 weeks and older. I heard Colleen speaking to Dr. LK and ask what Dr. Flores from the NICU said about the situation. Apparently Dr. Flores said there was nothing they could or would do for baby as she was too little. I could barely believe that this doctor would let my little once die without even trying. Dr. LK said that she would get Dr. IK, my normal OB and a man highly regarded in the community and the hospital to speak with Dr. Flores. And apparently he did and whatever he said worked because somehow NICU was in the OR when I arrived. At the same time Dr. LK had been in contact with the doctors from the Level 4 NICU and they were going to send down a team to pick up baby and transport her to the level 4 NICU. I am so grateful and thankful for these wonderful people.
I can vaguely remember being wheeled in to the OR. There was a flurry of activity as everyone was prepping for me. The pain and contractions were getting much worse. I apparently have no tolerance for pain because I can remember begging and pleading for help. I remember lying on my side and pleading, "God, PLEASE, help me. Help me." And one of the doctors or nurses said we're working on it. As I was in great discomfort, trying to breathe through the intolerable contractions the anesthesiologist said, "Hold still." I felt him swab some disinfectant on my back and then heard, "This is going to burn but will numb the space." And burn it did. Then I felt some pressure and heard them say, "We're done. You should start to be able to feel it work." I could wiggle my toes and kept telling them that I could feel my legs. I have heard horror stories about epidurals not working and women feeling the incisions. I did not want to be one of those women.
T. had arrived by then and was escorted in. I remember thinking how handsome he looked in his blue scrubs. I told him how good he looked. :)
They put a sheet up close to my chin to block the view. I heard a faint, "Starting the incision" and then felt some pressure. I also started to feel nauseous. Luckily the anesthesiologist had mentioned that this and throwing up was a possibility and to let him know if I felt nauseous. I quickly mentioned this fact and even quicker they told me to turn my head to the left, unfortunately this was also towards T. And I started to spew bile. Ack. Poor T. I can't imagine what he must've been thinking as his wife was splayed out on an operating table spewing bile into a bag and seeing it suctioned out of my mouth. I remember saying to him, "I don't know how you're ever going to find me attractive again." He kindly didn't respond to my taunt. [This is where I stopped writing 7+ years ago. So much happened in that time. I will try to fill you in on the rest but my memories are a bit spotty.]
At 8:41am she was born. They quickly whisked her to the warmer (I know that now because now I am a NICU RN in the same hospital where she was born) and went to work stabilizing her. Our favorite part of the story is that one of the nurses said, "Dad, do you want to come see her?" And T. (being T. and dealing with the emotions of everything) just sat there next to me. The nurse again said, "Dad! Do you want to come see your daughter?!" At that point T. realized what they were saying. He later told me that he thought they were saying, "Dan" and he was wondering who this Dan person was. So he went to see her. I remember going to the recovery area for a bit and then going to another room and just kinda sitting there in a post-c-section daze. A wonderful nurse named Alison came in and spoke with me about pumping breastmilk. And that started my breast pumping journey which is another story for another day.
I didn't get to see her until she was all bundled up in the transporter and on her way to the higher level NICU. This was at about noon. A nurse practitioner and respiratory therapist were on the transport team and came down to get her and transport her safely to Syracuse. I got to see her for a few minutes in the transporter and touch her beautiful little hand. Then she was off to Syracuse where she would stay for the next 100 days.
Thank god for nurses, that is all I have to say. The original plan was for me to stay at the hospital of birth for 2-3 days as I recovered from the c-section and then go up to Syracuse after I was discharged. Nurse Monica was not going to put up with that BS. She strongly advocated for me to be transferred and transported up to Syracuse so I could be with B. And that is just what happened. Around 6pm I was loaded into an ambulance and took one of the worst rides of my life. I do not recommend riding in an ambulance on horrible NYS roads a mere few hours after major abdominal surgery. It was hell. It hurt. I had to go to my "happy place" in my head which barely saved me. But I survived. And I remember thinking that if it was this bad for me, what must have it been like for her? But she also survived. Which in and of itself is a miracle.
I was admitted to the maternity floor, just 2 floors below the NICU and could go visit B. any time. T. had followed the ambulance and went directly to the NICU to see B. We eventually went up together to see her around 11pm and that began our 3-month NICU adventure.
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