What I Was Doing Nine Years Ago

Well, it was September and for the first time in my 20 year education history, I was not going to school. I didn't know what to do with myself. My baby wasn't due until 2 October, so I had put off doing any and all baby stuff until September to help combat my identity crisis. I thought it would help. I asked my friend Shauna if I could come help her get her classroom ready on 3 September. I was going crazy. And I was putting off buying baby stuff--carseat, nursing bras, pre-natal classes, you name it. I hadn't bought it. She, of course, being the wonderful friend, said I could. Plus, she isn't insane--having an extra pair of hands in the classroom anytime is always a wonderful thing. I was thrilled! I printed names on folders, made bulletin boards, and did all sorts of things that made my teaching heart  happy.

The next day I had my check up and since it was my almost-36 week check up, my GP was going to tell me the name of the doctor I had been referred to in Lethbridge. I dearly loved my GP in Raymond, AB, but wanted the option of an epidural, so I needed to go to Lethbridge for that. (That's how they did it so that the OBGYN doctors didn't get too many patients). So, I went to my appointment, but Dr. Steed wasn't there. Some family emergency. I saw one of his colleagues instead. No problem with me.

So the usual routine began. Urine sample, weigh in and blood pressure check. And then another blood pressure check. And then another. Then they told me to go get a magazine from the waiting room and bring it back and relax and read. Then they asked me for another urine sample. (Never a problem for me, even when I am not pregnant). This routine wasn't so much usual anymore. Another bp check. Then they called me in to see Dr. T Smith. I knew something wasn't good when he came in and took my bp. Not many doctors do bp. And then again. He told me to go home and pack my bag and drive into Lethbridge and check in to the hospital since I would be having my baby today. My bp was way too high and there was protein in my urine. My response was, "What do I pack in my bag?" He told me to pack my toothbrush, hairbrush and pajamas. There rest was all unnecessary. I should have asked what my bp was.

I drove back home to Stirling and found Paul. He was working for the village at that time. So, it was nice to have him so close. I planned that all of September he could come home for lunch and we could hang out. My plans usually need to be adjusted. I should have known better. I told him I was going home to pack my bag and that I needed to go have the baby. We went home and he asked me how I could help. I told him that while I showered he should google what to pack in a hospital bag. Just so you know, everything but the kitchen sink is included in that list. It was awful. I should have had lunch with Paul. Forget google and the shower. I should have eaten.

We checked in and got comfortable. I learned I weighed 209 pounds. I was mortified! I wasn't to eat anything because I would be having my baby, but the doctor needed to see me first, and he was in surgery. I was on bed rest and the baby monitor was hooked up. The nurse said, "Hopefully you'll start having contractions soon." I asked if I could eat, and she said no. I begged and she let Paul bring me ice cubes. I ate a lot of ice cubes.

I was so hungry and in such pain. No contractions, but my upper right side hurt like mad. I got up to try and find some relief when a nurse walked in. I was told I was on bed rest and that meant in bed. I just started to cry. It hurt so bad and I had heartburn and I was so so hungry.

Supper carts came. I smelled them. I didn't get any because the dr hadn't seen me yet! By this point the hunger and heartburn were secondary. I was in so much pain. I remember saying quietly, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow." Over and over and over again. Paul asked if I wanted him to go get help, and I told him I thought I'd be okay until morning. It might have been 6:30 pm!

The doctor came about 8 pm and told me that he'd put me on bedrest in the Lethbridge Regional Hospital for the duration of my pregnancy and told me all my health problems. blah blah blah.... He asked if I had any questions. I asked if I could have supper. He absolutely agreed.  (I should have listened to him, I wish I knew more details now about then).

The hospital food was the best food I have ever tasted. Pork chops and potatoes. I was in heaven. I snarfed it down. I was wonderful. (I have learned since then, that hospital food isn't always delicious like that evening's supper).

I planned to go to sleep and wake only when nature called. I was full and tired. But then, remember that upper right abdominal pain? It started again. Paul again asked if I wanted help. I again told him I was going to go to sleep and that I would be okay until the morning. I wasn't.

Things get fuzzy now. My memory from here on in isn't the greatest.

Paul went to get a nurse. I know that. I was mad at him. He told me I was in too much pain.
Blood pressure checks. Repeated all the time.
Blood work.
I didn't want anyone touching me.
A  handsome cowboy came in and told me I was going to have the baby immediately.
The cowboy told me he was my doctor. (Dr. Davey, by the way).
I didn't know why a cowboy was in my room.
And where was my doctor, anyway?
Then there was crazy commotion in my room.
Nurses everywhere.
One inserting an IV,
one putting a catheter in,
and one preparing the incision site (translation: shaving a bit (not a lot, though, it was 2003, not 1953)).
I didn't want anyone touching me.
Paul had to help them hold me down.
Not my finest moment, I'm sure.

My next memory is being in the OR room with the anesthesiologist and Paul. Paul was in scrubs. I had to sit up (not the coolest thing with a catheter in). Paul helped me sit up as comfortably as I could. The anesthesiologist had to landmark where to put the needle in. Paul told me that the doctor drew a bullseye on my back in black marker. Then he put the needle in to freeze my back prior to the big needle. The only thing I remember was Paul's face. The look of horror! My blood was too thin and it sprayed the doctor and the equipment and the wall behind me. He told me I would have to be put under general anesthetic and that Paul would have to leave. I was sad. The nurse told me I'd be okay. (I had a baby girl at 0044 on 5 September. She weight 2960 grams and was 49 cm long)

I woke up later back in the room I was in prior to the OR. The lab tech came to do bloodwork, my bp was being checked every half second it seemed, and two nurses were wanting to put those socks on that go from toes to crotch. Compression socks?
Paul told me that we had a little girl but she was in the NICU being taken care of until I could take over. The NICU staff had taken a polaroid picture of her and he gave me that to look at her.
I didn't take the picture from him.
But I did look at it.
My parents came.
My dad rubbed my feet.
I hated it and told him not to touch me.
There was a sign on my door saying, "No visitors."
No one regarded the sign.
I wished they would have.
The nurses introduced me to a double breast pump.
So I had to get out of bed and try it out.
Much to my dismay.
The NICU nurse broke all sorts of rules and brought my baby to me. I held her for about  a minute.
I was so tired I couldn't hold her any longer than that.
I received three units of blood. Thank you to all you who donate blood. I felt so much better. (not great, but in comparison, great)!
I had no idea or concept of time.
A nurse braided my hair for me after she helped me have a shower on Sunday. I will never ever forget that act of kindness.
I wanted to go for a walk in the middle of the night. Paul helped. I made it about 10 metres, to the nursing station. Then had to rest and go back. Still had the catheter and IV.
I was so exhausted.

I was diagnosed (post natal) with HELLP syndrome. All my problems went away after giving birth. Never heard of HELLP? I hadn't either. Here are some links I found:

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001892/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HELLP_syndrome

I was moved to the maternity ward in the evening of 7 September to my own room which was right across the hall from the NICU. Walking was still so exhausting. I did have the catheter out now, though!

The baby had had some problems and was needing to stay in the NICU. Long story short, she stayed in there two weeks. I was able to go in and stay in the hostel in the LRH, but I was in the hospital for a week, too.

So now, photos. I am not able to put them in order or know what was happening when. Like I said, I don't have very many clear memories of those few days. Except for my handsome cowboy doctor. And in hindsight, I don't know if he was that handsome, either. I googled him, but couldn't find a picture of him. Sorry, you won't be able to judge him. Or me! :)

My room in the Antenatal wing. See the Polaroid picture of my baby!

Me trying hard to hold her and to be excited about her. I pretty much failed. I was so exhausted!

My bp machine. My buddy. This is when I am getting better. My reading is only 152 over 90. I know the bottom number at one point was 112. I don't know how bad that is, other than I felt awful! And, since I can remember that number I assume it was worse, since I don't remember a lot.

The nurses and Paul thought I would do better if I used my right arm to hold her. I'm left handed, remember? My left arm would have been stronger. Oh well. They propped her up for me.

I'm looking happy and capable here!

Another good one!

Getting blood. Showing off my puffy legs and awesome socks. 

My happy baby. Hanging out with her dad and the NICU nurses.

Wearing real clothes and everything!

 Her heart stopped beating more times than NICU would have liked. And then had problems eating (I wasn't even involved yet)! She pulled out her gavage tube more than I thought she'd like. Then when she did start nursing we had to weigh in and weigh out and only had a specific amount of time to complete the task or else she'd get too tired and not eat again for a while. She was on a three hour schedule.

Oh, there we go. A better picture. I was wearing a pink outfit (not the green surgery patients)! All the other mums in the maternity ward had them. And, I was less puffy (but still very puffy-my face is better but my hands and arms are still).  

A happy daddy. :)

Going home! On the 18 September 2003, I think! I'll have to look it up!

And that was when the real adventure started!

Have a great day!