Chapter 2: ICU for both of us

It is now time, Gentle Reader, for the birth of my child. I am wheeled off in the hospital bed, leaving my darling Husband in the room, towards surgery. I wave to the nurses as I pass their station and say, "Bye, I'm off to have a baby." I've accepted the fact that she's coming out early and I'm rather excited to meet her.

Normally, operating rooms are scary. They're sterile, white, bright, and filled with all kinds of scary medical equipment. This one wasn't. The nurses hovered over me and explained everything they were doing. Then the epidural man came in. He was a really nice guy despite the fact that he put a needle into my spine. It was an odd sensation. A shot of cold ran down my spine. Everything below my waist began to tingle and the go pleasantly numb. I couldn't move my toes. I asked the anesthesiologist if he could come by after a rough day at school and give me another one. He laughed and marveled at my astounding sense of humor.

"It's amazing that you can crack jokes at a time like this," he said.

"Well, I am on painkiller," I replied with a slight slur. My arms were strapped down in a position that wasn't unlike Jesus on the cross. A sheet was put up so I didn't have to watch my abdomen being cut open. And I relaxed for a moment waiting for the inevitable.About this time, my DH (That's short for Darling Husband) came to sit by my side in scrubs. The doctors came in and went to work.

At 5:28 pm,she was born. I didn't feel her come out. She didn't cry. I didn't see her at all. DH said, "She's out."

"She's out?" I asked and I saw one of the doctors rush out the room with something small and red in a towel. If I hadn't been high, that would have been the moment that hurt my feelings the most. I've read that it's normal for a woman who gives birth via C-Section to feel like a failure. In my haze, I did. I knew this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. I lost whatever bit of acceptance I had gained on my way to the operating room. To this day, I still don't have it back fully.

DH and I are brought to the recovery room. I beg for something to drink because my mouth is so dry and am given ice chips. I still can't feel anything below the waist. DH pulled out a camcorder which was lent to us by our friend Texas Barbie- she was the one who would have sat with me while he went to class. Now would be the appropriate time to go to my videos and view said video. I will warn you- you'll laugh, you'll cry- as I did. The first part is very funny since I am higher on painkiller than i ever have been before. Then they wheel Phoebe in so I can see her. Please watch the video before proceeding.

If I had known to cry, I would have. I didn't know how close we both were to death at this point. That is not an exaggeration. I am not kidding. At the end of the video, you can barely hear the doctor say "Can you turn that off please?" to DH. Phoebe had acidosis, meaning her blood was too acidic and she had to be rushed off to NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) to be stabilized. That's when the doctors realized that what's wrong with her just might be what's wrong with me too. They test my blood to find that I also have acidosis and a blood sugar of 493- normal blood sugar will be from 70 to 110. I am also rushed to ICU.

The next few hours are very hazy. I was on a lot of painkiller and they had given me a button to give myself more should I desire it. It was hooked to my epidural, so when I pushed the button I got another shot of cold down my spine. I know doctors and nurses came in. I remember my uncle being there. He lives in Tomball and quickly drove down once my mother called him. DH was there with Texas Barbie and my brother from another mother The Aggie. They were talking to the doctors. I saw DH's face and knew it couldn't be good. I had never seen him so scared. I didn't know at that point that I was dying and the doctors were doing everything to keep me alive.

At one point in time, I remember my OB coming in with a friend of his. He was a bald man wearing an ugly yellow print polo shirt. He started messing with my upper chest and I could feel a tube being put into me. I asked what was going on. My Ob said that this friend of his was putting in a central venous catheter or central line- an IV which went into my subclavain vein- or in layman's terms the huge vein which pumps right into my heart. They started administering insulin in mass quantaties and I began to stabilize. I remember saying to my DH at some point in time, "I'm not going to die." Which was true, obviously. I have way too much stuff left to do.

My OB came in again after a while and said that this hospital- which is a women's hospital, they do babies and breast cancer- wasn't equipt to handle my needs. I was being transported my ambulance to another hospital. All I knew is that I was being transfered away from my baby. I told my DH to go home and get some rest. I knew my parents were on their way, his parents were flying in the next day, and his older brother was driving down from Dallas. He wouldn't be alone.

The ambulance and paramedics came to get me and I was wheeled out. The nice ambulance man and I talked while I was being transported. After I told him I was a theatre teacher, he said his sister lived in New York and did a lot of Broadway and off-Broadway work. Only I would discuss theatre with the paramedics after one of the most traumatic expereinces of my life.

We arrived and I was placed in ICU. There was a flurry of doctors and nurses for about an hour. They took my vitals, drew vial after vial of blood, and put more IVs in my arms and hands. I looked like the Borg- I was attached to so many machines and wires I could barely move. My only consolation was what came to be known as the Tweety Button (Thank you, Mama Pug). My pain killer button in this hospital would "chirp" every time I pressed it and it released its narcotic goodness. I pressed this serval times while I was being poked and prodded.

Then, the doctors and nurses left and I was alone. They gave me the remote control and I surfed the channels for a while all the while missing my Dish Network on screen guide. Then, I passed into a dreamless sleep until a nurse showed up an hour later to take my blood sugar.

The next morning the nightmare truly began.

Chapter 1: I’m Limited

As you all know, I have given birth. Although it wasn't my own version of "A Baby Story" I had come to expect. There are a multitude of lessons I have learned from this experience. Hurricane Katrina made me human. This made me mortal.

It started in June. I started getting really, really hot, exceedingly tired and had a thirst that could never be quenched. I figured it was because I was pregnant and my doctor agreed. Until June 29th. My back started to hurt. I once again thought it was because I was pregnant- my doctor once again agreed. I did what I could with hot compresses and Tylenol. I didn't sleep that night because I hurt so bad. It got worse the next day and the pain spread to the front. I thought it was round ligament pain (for those who don't know the lingo: it's growing pains for pregnant women. The ligaments in the abdomen stretch to accommodate the growing wriggling human inside of you. It's completely normal.) I once again did not sleep. One July 1st, I called in sick to work and did my best to get some sleep. I couldn't because I hurt so bad. I called my doctor and he said that it was probably nothing, but to come into the hospital just in case. I said that I would after I dropped my car off at the dealership for service. You see Hubby and I were going to New Orleans that weekend for my Great Aunt's birthday/ my first baby shower and my car needed some TLC.
Looking back, I have no idea how in the hell I drove my car to the dealership and stopped at Chik-fa-lay (I know I probably spelled it wrong; enjoy the story, dammit). I called my loving husband and asked for him to get me and drive me to the hospital. He picked me up and we began our journey.

This the point where everything started to go to hell in a hand basket.

The pain was intense but irregular. I didn't know I was in labor. The contractions were coming about every 3 to 7 minutes- I was trying to time them using the clock in the car. We made it to the hospital and I was dropped off by the door. I was on my way to labor and delivery when a nurse with a wheelchair saw me.
"Honey, are you okay?" she asked.
"I don't know," I replied as a contraction hit me. "My doctor said to go to labor and delivery to see if something's wrong."
"Get in." She put the chair in my direction and I sat down. We went to the third floor and I was wheeled into the expensive posh labor suite. This place had hardwood floors, a full bathroom with a tub and shower, a nice size TV, a VCR/DVD player- nice. It was because they didn't have any other place to put me. The nurse came in and told me to strip and put on a hospital gown. I did and continued to have to worst pain ever. My husband sat beside me, probably feeling as helpless as he does when I have a migraine- only this was much worse.

My child, my precious daughter could be in trouble.

The nurse came in a drew blood. It came out, but I could tell by the look on her face that something was wrong. It was the consistency of maple syrup. She checked to see if I was dilating and I was. She started me on an IV and gave me two shots- one to stop the labor and a steroid shot to strengthen Phoebe's lungs in case she had to be delivered then. I was in a panic. I was only at 27 weeks. She had to stay in longer. Her lungs would be developed for another 10 weeks! How could they pull her out now?
The pain came and went, but was still there. The funny thing is my hubby had class that night- the last class before the final. He called a friend of ours to sit with me while he was gone. She didn't make it in time.
I remember them wheeling me down the hall for a quick ultrasound. It was the first time I saw her little face. I could tell she was tired (There is something to be said about maternal instinct). They wheeled me back to the room and my doctor came to see how I was. He looked at the fact that I was dilated, my baby was in position for delivery, my blood was thick, and my contractions would not stop. He said this baby has to come out now.

Now? How could she she's too small. It's too soon. I remember saying that we hadn't quite decided on the middle name, I didn't know how to breastfeed, we hadn't been to single childbirthing class, and she didn't even have a mattress. A team of nurses came in to prepare me for the C-section. They gave me painkiller and started putting more IVs in me. I was a whirlwind of emotions. I wanted what was best for Phoebe. However, I couldn't help but to feel like a failure because I couldn't even carry my child to term. I wasn't going to get my moment right after the baby is born and the doctor would place her on my chest. I wouldn't get to call my husband and say, "Honey, it's time." I hadn't gotten a single baby shower present. I hadn't gotten a single stretch mark. Hell, I barely got to tell anyone that I had finally reached the last trimester.

More to come.

Cha Cha Cha Changes

I wonder if I've been changed
in the night? Let me think.
Was I the same when I got
up this morning? I almost think
I can remember feeling a little different.
But if I'm not the same,
the next question is
'Who in the world am I?'
Ah, that's the great puzzle!