Because Owlet's c-section was a scheduled one, and because it was scheduled for December 27, the only way that I was going to spend Christmas with my family was if they all came here, which they did. My mom came in time for Christmas Eve, and then everybody else came in Christmas Day or the 26th.
Christmas Eve was a lazy morning of breakfast out (per tradition), and then gearing up for three evening worship services. After the first of those three services, both of my legs blew up like balloons. It hit me, then and there, that despite all of my anxiety about the c-section procedure, I was so very ready to be done with this pregnancy. I was tired. My legs were puffy. I had crazy heartburn. I'd slept on the couch more nights than in my bed over the last couple weeks because I couldn't get comfortable.
I drank lots of water the rest of the evening, and came home between services to put on pj's and put my feet up. I committed myself to sit through worship except when I absolutely had to be standing. The rest of the night went well, and we all pretty much dragged ourselves into bed that night, tired from the day and excited about the morning.
Christmas Day was lovely. Beautiful worship in the morning, presents together in the afternoon, cooking and prepping the house for guests, welcoming two rounds of sister arrivals throughout the evening. We got up on the 26th and did another round of present-opening in our pjs, and then lots of cooking before our traditional Swedish Christmas meal, and then welcoming the last arriving family late in the afternoon. By about 7:00 p.m. I started to feel myself shut down...as much as I wanted to be present with my family and enjoy them, I was getting crazy-anxious about the next morning. I excused myself to take a bath (to relax, to get clean, and, yes, to shave my legs!). When I came back, I was relaxed, but I still couldn't focus. I wasn't hungry. I got quiet.
When everyone left (or settled in) for the night, Matt and I went upstairs, and started worrying about whether he was coming down with the tummy bug that had been working its way through our visiting family. I tried to sleep but was worried. I woke up every hour between midnight (when we went to bed, way too late) and 4:30 a.m., which was when my alarm was supposed to go off (except that I totally set my alarm wrong and it wouldn't have gone off, so it's a good thing that I was awake already!). I snuck downstairs for a shower (to wake up), and got myself ready, double checked my hospital bag, and took my last belly picture of this pregnancy.
Then off to the hospital! Our check-in time was 5:30 a.m. We got settled in a quiet room in the back corner of the OB department, and then did a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. They hooked me up to monitors, and we got to hear Owlet's heart thumping away. They started an IV in my right hand and began pumping me with fluids (to offset the blood pressure lowering effects of the spinal). I was visited by OB nurses, surgical nurses, my surgeon, and the anesthesiologist. Each of them asked how I was doing, and I admitted my anxiety to each of them. I was honestly even a little tearful. There was nothing about a c-section that sounded even remotely okay to me. I was nervous about the spinal, and sad that Matt wouldn't be there to hold my hand. I was scared about the crazy reality of being cut open while still awake. I was nervous about whether I'd feel claustrophobic and panicky with my body half-numbed.
The anesthesiologist mentioned to me that she could give me something for my anxiety, but that it might mean I wouldn't remember anything about the birth. I could tell that she was reluctant to do so, so I decided for myself that I would only ask for it if things got really bad. She gave me anti-nausea meds and warned me that sometimes the spinal make people feel sick, and tot ell her, and that she would be sitting by my head monitoring me the whole time in case I needed anything.
And then we were off! As the wheeled me to the OR, they gave me the same bitter grape super-antacid stuff, and pulled Matt aside at the same place to suit up in his white jumpsuit so that he could join me when the started the procedure.
I remember going into the OR and thinking about just how ridiculously large of a room it was, but honestly, after a moment's glance, I pressed my eyes shut and didn't open them for a long time. I have no idea who the nurses were who helped me scoot to the edge of the table and gave me a pillow to hug as they prepped me for the spinal. I know that I hugged that pillow so tightly, and tucked my head into "ready position" even before I needed to, and that there was a nurse holding my hand the whole time.
First came the numbing agent, which my anesthesiologist thought was the worst part of it all. They told me to prepare for a bee sting feeling, but honestly, the prick didn't feel nearly that bad. Then the spinal itself. I definitely don't remember feeling the needle go in (yay numbing agent!). The anesthesiologist warned me that I'd feel a "stinger" go down one leg or the other, which I felt, but again, nothing nearly as bad as I had expected.
I felt so proud of myself for weathering the needles so well, but then it occurred to me that the meds were in, and so whatever fears or misgivings I had about being numb from the waist down didn't matter. I was about to be numb, like it or not. They scorched me into position and onto the operating table, and at this point, I could still move my legs, but they were starting to feel warm and tingly. I'm not sure if it was a good feeling or bad feeling; just a weird one. They had already strapped inflatable compression booties to my feet, and I could feel the pressure from them, which was actually kind of comforting, like my lower body was numb but not dead to the world.
They stretched my arms out to each side, but if I promised good behavior, they didn't strap them down (thankfully!). I'm sure they were touching and prepping my legs and belly, but I wasn't really feeling it. It was all very strange, though, and this is about the point that I hear myself saying out loud, "I'm kind of freaking out right now!" I think that I was subtly asking for the anxiety meds, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. My sweet anesthesiologist talked me through some deep breathing, and even though I felt really unsure and scared, I started to calm down. They stretched a giant canopy over my belly and over my head (yay for NO CHANCE of accidentally seeing anything!) and then started their series of tests. "Do you feel anything poking or sharp?" they asked, poking at me. "No." And again, in a different spot, "Do you feel anything sharp?" "No."
We were ready.
Matt came and sat by me and held my hand, and I'm pretty sure my eyes were still squeezed shut. I don't remember hearing anybody say anything about the procedure starting, but I had to assume things were underway. Now everybody had warned me that I'd feel a lot of pressure when they actually delivered the baby, and I was bracing myself for that. But I waited and waited, and no pressure. All of the sudden, I realized that the table was shaking and that they must be moving me around a lot, and then suddenly, Dr. Locke announcing that we had a baby! He walked around the side of the curtain holding up a super-chubby-cheeked baby, and I didn't have my glasses on, so I couldn't see if it was a boy or a girl, and I asked Matt, but he hadn't seen either. They called him over to meet the baby while they cleaned it and did the first APGAR. As Matt walked over, I thought someone said "he," so I said, "It's a boy???" (Which I'd been expecting.) But Matt called back, "No, it's a girl!!" "It's a girl??" I repeated back, totally shocked and amazed. They asked if we had a name for her.
Yes. Eleanor Ann.
She was a SCREAMER! Yelled and yelled as they got her cleaned up and wrapped up. But quieted as Matt brought her to me and as I got to kiss her sweet chubby cheeks and beautiful forehead.
It was a pretty great moment.
Which is good. Because the very next moment, I started feeling a little overwhelmed and out of breath, and mentioned to the anesthesiologist that I was having a little trouble breathing. She told me that they were in the process of massaging my uterus (to help it start contracting back down, and that to do so, all my organs get sort of squished, and that I'd feel better soon. Which was true. They started the pitocin drip (per procedure) to continue to help my uterus contract and she told me that this was sometimes the worst part for women - feeling all those contractions. I didn't feel any of them. :)
At this point, Eleanor was ready to head back to OB, and usually for c-sections, the support person goes too, but they offered to let Matt stay with me if I wanted. At this point, I was feeling a little braver and felt like it was better for him to go with the baby.
I tried to doze off after they left. I knew that it would take a little time for them to close me up, especially because we were also doing a quick tubal ligation (because with IVF, I don't need my tubes, and they are scarred and only a health hazard for me anyway). I overheard snippets of medical conversation and "how was your Christmas?" conversation. I started to realize that it wasn't such a scary thing to be numb and awake and operated on, and started making my peace. The only frustrating thing was thatI started to get the shakes, which is so very normal and expected, but uncomfortable. My whole upper body was shaking as if I were cold (I wasn't), and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I grabbed onto the straps by my hands to try to stabilize, but still shook like crazy. It didn't make me scared, just annoyed. I redoubled my efforts to relax and doze off.
Before I knew it, we were all done, they pulled the canopy away, and off to recovery I went. I can picture the recovery room much better than the OR. I was the only one there for a long time. I laid there and felt impatient. I wanted to feel my legs and move them. I was a little nervous and curious about what it would feel like to come out of the anesthesia. But mostly, I felt tired and lonely and impatient.
The recovery nurse came over to massage my belly to ensure that my uterus had contracted down appropriately. She massaged, and then gave a little bit of a confused and surprised noise. Apparently, when they massage you, they expect to see a little discharge of blood. Apparently for me, there was a gush. She called someone about upping my pitocin a bit, and said not to worry, and that she'd try again in a few minutes and hopefully everything would have slowed. But next massage, same deal. I could see that she was starting to worry a bit. She called over another recovery nurse for another opinion. She called Dr. Locke and they started a second medication to help things contract. They rolled me over to change the pads under me.
I was feeling fine, by the way. Numb from the waist down, but fine. Not scared. Not light-headed. Shaking and shivering like I was in the OR, but fine. They loaded me with warm blankets and kept tabs on my blood pressure, which was totally fine.
But every time the massaged, more bleeding. They decided to move into high gear. So all of the sudden, they were drawing blood to get baseline levels and blood typing, and calling in for two units of blood, just in case, and then Dr. Locke and an OB nurse came in, wearing those stupid white jumpsuits, and they started a second IV line in my left hand, just in case. They gave me two more meds to help contract the uterus, and started massaging me every five minutes - HARD! Again, I wasn't scared, and no one seemed scared, but everyone seemed very purposeful. Dr. Locke tried to make nice chit-chat between massages. They kept rolling me, and at one point, we all noticed that I helped out, meaning that I was starting to feel my legs and toes.
Meanwhile, Matt and my mom were in OB, and worried, because they said that recovery would be about an hour, and it had now been more than an hour, and the messages that were being relayed to them were vague and concerning. Finally they were able to let Matt come down and see me, which was nice for me, but even nicer for him, because I could assure him that I was fine.
It took a while, but they finally started getting my silly uterus under control enough that they released me from recovery and settled me back into my room.
By the time I got there, I was moving my legs pretty well, and let me tell you, it is far nicer to hold your baby for the first time when you are awake, alert, and not hopped upon magnesium and general anesthesia!
I was thirsty like crazy, and immediately, they got me water and toast, and said that I could start pain medication by mouth as soon as I could keep food down. I nibbled at the toast but devoured the water. Again, crazy that I was already eating and drinking and not relegated to 24 more hours of magnesium and no eating like with Sam's birth.
The rest of the day was filled with Eleanor snuggles, nursing, regular and ongoing massages to check on my bleeding, baby's first bath later in the evening, lots of family visitors, and the sweetest meeting of Eleanor and Sam. Turns out that Sam is smitten. He was scared at first by all the stuff that I was hooked up to, but totally in love with his new sister.
My takeaways from the day:
Epilogue: The rest of my recovery was straightforward and pretty easy. We stayed in the hospital an extra night because of some pain management issues, but really, nothing big. It felt great to get up and move and shower and put on real clothes so much earlier in the recovery than with Sam. Seriously. This was a much easier recovery, which means more happy baby memories and more time for family and visitors.
We came home on Saturday, December 31, just in time for the New Year:
Christmas Eve was a lazy morning of breakfast out (per tradition), and then gearing up for three evening worship services. After the first of those three services, both of my legs blew up like balloons. It hit me, then and there, that despite all of my anxiety about the c-section procedure, I was so very ready to be done with this pregnancy. I was tired. My legs were puffy. I had crazy heartburn. I'd slept on the couch more nights than in my bed over the last couple weeks because I couldn't get comfortable.
I drank lots of water the rest of the evening, and came home between services to put on pj's and put my feet up. I committed myself to sit through worship except when I absolutely had to be standing. The rest of the night went well, and we all pretty much dragged ourselves into bed that night, tired from the day and excited about the morning.
Christmas Day was lovely. Beautiful worship in the morning, presents together in the afternoon, cooking and prepping the house for guests, welcoming two rounds of sister arrivals throughout the evening. We got up on the 26th and did another round of present-opening in our pjs, and then lots of cooking before our traditional Swedish Christmas meal, and then welcoming the last arriving family late in the afternoon. By about 7:00 p.m. I started to feel myself shut down...as much as I wanted to be present with my family and enjoy them, I was getting crazy-anxious about the next morning. I excused myself to take a bath (to relax, to get clean, and, yes, to shave my legs!). When I came back, I was relaxed, but I still couldn't focus. I wasn't hungry. I got quiet.
When everyone left (or settled in) for the night, Matt and I went upstairs, and started worrying about whether he was coming down with the tummy bug that had been working its way through our visiting family. I tried to sleep but was worried. I woke up every hour between midnight (when we went to bed, way too late) and 4:30 a.m., which was when my alarm was supposed to go off (except that I totally set my alarm wrong and it wouldn't have gone off, so it's a good thing that I was awake already!). I snuck downstairs for a shower (to wake up), and got myself ready, double checked my hospital bag, and took my last belly picture of this pregnancy.
Then off to the hospital! Our check-in time was 5:30 a.m. We got settled in a quiet room in the back corner of the OB department, and then did a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. They hooked me up to monitors, and we got to hear Owlet's heart thumping away. They started an IV in my right hand and began pumping me with fluids (to offset the blood pressure lowering effects of the spinal). I was visited by OB nurses, surgical nurses, my surgeon, and the anesthesiologist. Each of them asked how I was doing, and I admitted my anxiety to each of them. I was honestly even a little tearful. There was nothing about a c-section that sounded even remotely okay to me. I was nervous about the spinal, and sad that Matt wouldn't be there to hold my hand. I was scared about the crazy reality of being cut open while still awake. I was nervous about whether I'd feel claustrophobic and panicky with my body half-numbed.
The anesthesiologist mentioned to me that she could give me something for my anxiety, but that it might mean I wouldn't remember anything about the birth. I could tell that she was reluctant to do so, so I decided for myself that I would only ask for it if things got really bad. She gave me anti-nausea meds and warned me that sometimes the spinal make people feel sick, and tot ell her, and that she would be sitting by my head monitoring me the whole time in case I needed anything.
And then we were off! As the wheeled me to the OR, they gave me the same bitter grape super-antacid stuff, and pulled Matt aside at the same place to suit up in his white jumpsuit so that he could join me when the started the procedure.
I remember going into the OR and thinking about just how ridiculously large of a room it was, but honestly, after a moment's glance, I pressed my eyes shut and didn't open them for a long time. I have no idea who the nurses were who helped me scoot to the edge of the table and gave me a pillow to hug as they prepped me for the spinal. I know that I hugged that pillow so tightly, and tucked my head into "ready position" even before I needed to, and that there was a nurse holding my hand the whole time.
First came the numbing agent, which my anesthesiologist thought was the worst part of it all. They told me to prepare for a bee sting feeling, but honestly, the prick didn't feel nearly that bad. Then the spinal itself. I definitely don't remember feeling the needle go in (yay numbing agent!). The anesthesiologist warned me that I'd feel a "stinger" go down one leg or the other, which I felt, but again, nothing nearly as bad as I had expected.
I felt so proud of myself for weathering the needles so well, but then it occurred to me that the meds were in, and so whatever fears or misgivings I had about being numb from the waist down didn't matter. I was about to be numb, like it or not. They scorched me into position and onto the operating table, and at this point, I could still move my legs, but they were starting to feel warm and tingly. I'm not sure if it was a good feeling or bad feeling; just a weird one. They had already strapped inflatable compression booties to my feet, and I could feel the pressure from them, which was actually kind of comforting, like my lower body was numb but not dead to the world.
They stretched my arms out to each side, but if I promised good behavior, they didn't strap them down (thankfully!). I'm sure they were touching and prepping my legs and belly, but I wasn't really feeling it. It was all very strange, though, and this is about the point that I hear myself saying out loud, "I'm kind of freaking out right now!" I think that I was subtly asking for the anxiety meds, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. My sweet anesthesiologist talked me through some deep breathing, and even though I felt really unsure and scared, I started to calm down. They stretched a giant canopy over my belly and over my head (yay for NO CHANCE of accidentally seeing anything!) and then started their series of tests. "Do you feel anything poking or sharp?" they asked, poking at me. "No." And again, in a different spot, "Do you feel anything sharp?" "No."
We were ready.
Matt came and sat by me and held my hand, and I'm pretty sure my eyes were still squeezed shut. I don't remember hearing anybody say anything about the procedure starting, but I had to assume things were underway. Now everybody had warned me that I'd feel a lot of pressure when they actually delivered the baby, and I was bracing myself for that. But I waited and waited, and no pressure. All of the sudden, I realized that the table was shaking and that they must be moving me around a lot, and then suddenly, Dr. Locke announcing that we had a baby! He walked around the side of the curtain holding up a super-chubby-cheeked baby, and I didn't have my glasses on, so I couldn't see if it was a boy or a girl, and I asked Matt, but he hadn't seen either. They called him over to meet the baby while they cleaned it and did the first APGAR. As Matt walked over, I thought someone said "he," so I said, "It's a boy???" (Which I'd been expecting.) But Matt called back, "No, it's a girl!!" "It's a girl??" I repeated back, totally shocked and amazed. They asked if we had a name for her.
Yes. Eleanor Ann.
She was a SCREAMER! Yelled and yelled as they got her cleaned up and wrapped up. But quieted as Matt brought her to me and as I got to kiss her sweet chubby cheeks and beautiful forehead.
It was a pretty great moment.
Which is good. Because the very next moment, I started feeling a little overwhelmed and out of breath, and mentioned to the anesthesiologist that I was having a little trouble breathing. She told me that they were in the process of massaging my uterus (to help it start contracting back down, and that to do so, all my organs get sort of squished, and that I'd feel better soon. Which was true. They started the pitocin drip (per procedure) to continue to help my uterus contract and she told me that this was sometimes the worst part for women - feeling all those contractions. I didn't feel any of them. :)
At this point, Eleanor was ready to head back to OB, and usually for c-sections, the support person goes too, but they offered to let Matt stay with me if I wanted. At this point, I was feeling a little braver and felt like it was better for him to go with the baby.
I tried to doze off after they left. I knew that it would take a little time for them to close me up, especially because we were also doing a quick tubal ligation (because with IVF, I don't need my tubes, and they are scarred and only a health hazard for me anyway). I overheard snippets of medical conversation and "how was your Christmas?" conversation. I started to realize that it wasn't such a scary thing to be numb and awake and operated on, and started making my peace. The only frustrating thing was thatI started to get the shakes, which is so very normal and expected, but uncomfortable. My whole upper body was shaking as if I were cold (I wasn't), and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I grabbed onto the straps by my hands to try to stabilize, but still shook like crazy. It didn't make me scared, just annoyed. I redoubled my efforts to relax and doze off.
Before I knew it, we were all done, they pulled the canopy away, and off to recovery I went. I can picture the recovery room much better than the OR. I was the only one there for a long time. I laid there and felt impatient. I wanted to feel my legs and move them. I was a little nervous and curious about what it would feel like to come out of the anesthesia. But mostly, I felt tired and lonely and impatient.
The recovery nurse came over to massage my belly to ensure that my uterus had contracted down appropriately. She massaged, and then gave a little bit of a confused and surprised noise. Apparently, when they massage you, they expect to see a little discharge of blood. Apparently for me, there was a gush. She called someone about upping my pitocin a bit, and said not to worry, and that she'd try again in a few minutes and hopefully everything would have slowed. But next massage, same deal. I could see that she was starting to worry a bit. She called over another recovery nurse for another opinion. She called Dr. Locke and they started a second medication to help things contract. They rolled me over to change the pads under me.
I was feeling fine, by the way. Numb from the waist down, but fine. Not scared. Not light-headed. Shaking and shivering like I was in the OR, but fine. They loaded me with warm blankets and kept tabs on my blood pressure, which was totally fine.
But every time the massaged, more bleeding. They decided to move into high gear. So all of the sudden, they were drawing blood to get baseline levels and blood typing, and calling in for two units of blood, just in case, and then Dr. Locke and an OB nurse came in, wearing those stupid white jumpsuits, and they started a second IV line in my left hand, just in case. They gave me two more meds to help contract the uterus, and started massaging me every five minutes - HARD! Again, I wasn't scared, and no one seemed scared, but everyone seemed very purposeful. Dr. Locke tried to make nice chit-chat between massages. They kept rolling me, and at one point, we all noticed that I helped out, meaning that I was starting to feel my legs and toes.
Meanwhile, Matt and my mom were in OB, and worried, because they said that recovery would be about an hour, and it had now been more than an hour, and the messages that were being relayed to them were vague and concerning. Finally they were able to let Matt come down and see me, which was nice for me, but even nicer for him, because I could assure him that I was fine.
It took a while, but they finally started getting my silly uterus under control enough that they released me from recovery and settled me back into my room.
By the time I got there, I was moving my legs pretty well, and let me tell you, it is far nicer to hold your baby for the first time when you are awake, alert, and not hopped upon magnesium and general anesthesia!
I was thirsty like crazy, and immediately, they got me water and toast, and said that I could start pain medication by mouth as soon as I could keep food down. I nibbled at the toast but devoured the water. Again, crazy that I was already eating and drinking and not relegated to 24 more hours of magnesium and no eating like with Sam's birth.
The rest of the day was filled with Eleanor snuggles, nursing, regular and ongoing massages to check on my bleeding, baby's first bath later in the evening, lots of family visitors, and the sweetest meeting of Eleanor and Sam. Turns out that Sam is smitten. He was scared at first by all the stuff that I was hooked up to, but totally in love with his new sister.
My takeaways from the day:
- We have a baby! A girl! Crazy!
- We have two kids. And one of them is totally in love with the other.
- C-sections...not my favorite. In the midst of it all, I pretty much swore off having any more kids to prevent having to go through that again. We'll see if that sentiment holds.
- Complications suck. If you're keeping count, our first birth included severe pre-ecclampsia and a c-section under general anesthesia. This time, a postpartum hemorrhage. Not so much fun.
- But at the end of it all...WE HAVE ANOTHER BABY! That's pretty awesome.
Epilogue: The rest of my recovery was straightforward and pretty easy. We stayed in the hospital an extra night because of some pain management issues, but really, nothing big. It felt great to get up and move and shower and put on real clothes so much earlier in the recovery than with Sam. Seriously. This was a much easier recovery, which means more happy baby memories and more time for family and visitors.
We came home on Saturday, December 31, just in time for the New Year:
Such a beautiful story! You did an amazing job, my brave sister! We're so thankful for your good recovery and for sweet Eleanor. <3
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