“Wait!!! You need to sign right here Kathy, okay?? Do you understand?? We are going to go back in and take a look around. We need to see if everything is the way it’s supposed to be and if it’s not then we’re going to need to remove you uterus…sign here!”
Confused and heartbroken, I scribbled something illegible across the page.
“But. Don’t I need that to make more babies???”
A look of sympathy swept across her face as if I was a fifth grader just grasping the concept of human anatomy.
“Yes.” She said. And with that the tears flooded and I went under.
My family said I was in the operating room for six grueling hours. Pat sat by the door waiting for answers the entire time, while my mom and sisters took turns caring for Laina.
When I came to I was told the operation was a success. There had been a tear on my uterus during the c-section and I had been stitched up in spite of it. Oops. The good news is that my uterus was saved (you’re welcome Kainoa) and we were now waiting for my body to bounce back. I had lost a lot of blood and received a total of six blood transfusions over all. I wasn’t retaining water and went through 9 IV bags. I spent my first night after Laina was born in the ICU, which was an absolute nightmare.
Apparently the nurses in the ICU are not prepared to deal with women post partum. And the nurses in the labor and delivery unit were not prepared to deal with an infant without a mother. If Pat wanted to check on me he had to leave Laina at the nurse’s desk. I’m still very bitter about that. I’m glad Laina had so many relatives taking care of her, but I see pictures of her having her first bath, drinking her first bottle, and sleeping in the bassinet and it bothers me that I wasn’t there for all that. I should have been there.
IV after IV, nurse after nurse, needle after needle, I was hooked up to a morphine drip that I swear was not working properly and I was a complete mess. That night it was decided Pat would stay with Laina and I was best left alone. The doctors convinced my family I would be in a deep sleep due to my fatigue from everything that had gone on and also because of the drugs. Unfortunately that didn’t go as planned either. I had never experienced such extraordinary pain and have not since.
Every bone in my body ached. I was able to move ever so slowly to maneuver my body into a comfortable position. My fingers pulled my arm to my ice chips as I s-l-o-w-l-y managed to inch one to my mouth. And every movement, no matter how slow, was excruciating and difficult. I felt shaky and heavy. I had to be careful not to tangle the array of wires hanging from my body and on more than one occasion lost my remote control morphine button.If I wanted to move to my side or back I had to page a nurse for help because I wasn’t able to move my body on my own. Pretty much all I could manage to move were my hands, arms, and head and it was extremely frustrating to have the nurses come and help me because I didn’t know how to tell them to position me. At one point I bumped the nurse’s pager off the bed and was unable to retrieve it. The pain and discomfort had escalated to a point in which I resorted to yelling for the nurse…only I couldn’t yell. I could barely eek out the word “help.” It was like the Titanic movie, when Rose lets Jack go and has to yell for a boat. I just couldn’t yell. And after a few failed attempts I just started to cry. I could hear them right outside my door talking about husbands and tv shows and pulling food from paper bags…but they couldn’t hear me.
When I finally succeeded at getting a nurse’s attention she came walking in with uncertainty. I wasn’t her designated patient and I could tell she was unsure of what to do with me. Kind of like a waitress being called to another waitresses table.
Nurse: Are you calling for something?
Me: I need help….I can’t….I’m not comfortable….
Nurse: Do you want to move to your other side?”
I had to think about it because my other side and my back were really sore too. Nothing sounded comfortable, I just knew the position I was in was intolerable any longer.
Nurse: Helllloooo???? What do you want??
Have you ever had to think about how to re position yourself? Have you ever had to instruct someone else to position you? I needed to think. Figure out how we could move me…..
Me: Ummmm….I think….ummmm
I was stuttering. I don’t stutter, but I was stuttering. I could tell I was frustrating her, but I needed time to think and she kept cutting in with more questions.
Nurse: Do you need a pillow? Another blanket? Can you move your leg? What do you want me to DO?
Me: I don’t KNOW!
I lost it and just started crying.
Me: I’m not comfortable but I’ve never had to tell someone how to move me to make me comfortable and I just need to think for a second.
It hurt to say all that and get all upset. What I wish I had the energy to say is “would it kill you to have some fucking patience!?! I had a baby less than 24 hours ago that I cannot be with and I don’t even know what she looks like! I’m a complete wreck in a considerable amount of pain, I’m all alone and the last thing I need is a rude nurse harping on me to figure out what I want so that she can go sit down with the other nurses and finish her fucking taco. And you’re ugly. That’s why your boyfriend cheated on you, you stupid bitch!”
Alas. I was too weak for such words.
I think I slept for forty minute stretches that night. The next day my brother Bad Ass showed up at the hospital. That’s when I knew things must be ugly. Bad Ass makes rare family appearances. He shows up to the major holidays…a birthday here and there, and maybe a family dinner, but never has he EVER showed up at the hospital for a baby. I must be dying, I thought. He brought me a glow stick. That’s just how he rolls.
The nurses told my family I wouldn’t remember anything. I don’t think they knew who they were talking about. I remember everything. Always. The mood was very somber. It was as if everyone thought I could have died.
And they did.
And I suppose I could have. When I had the strength I tried to lighten the mood by having fun at the expense of my visitors. My sister, Bianca…the jaded catholic, came in to see me and before she left I stopped her.
Me: Wait! Before you go promise me one thing.
Bianca: Sure, what is it?
Me: Just….pray for me. (I knew she wasn’t a believer in prayer….jaded)
Bianca: Ummm…I’ll pray to Dad.
Me: No….it’s my last wish that you pray to Jesus for help.
She hesitated at first, but when I smiled I think she wanted to reach over and slap me. The doctors had to run more tests. They thought I might be coming down with pneumonia and they had to do a body scan where I was filled with some kind of dye and my mouth tasted like metal and they were trying to pin point any other problems. Any clues as to why my body was not healing.
When some of the tests came back inconclusive, and I came to terms with the fact that my condition was not improving, I had a little heart to heart with myself.
Self: Whoa whoa whoa. You are not a SICK person…you are healthy…stop feeling sorry for yourself and pull yourself together damn it! What’s wrong with you?? You have kids who need you, the doctors are scratching their heads…what are you just gonna lay here and suffer!?! Knock it off!!
So I did. My condition improved after they finally brought Laina to my room to breastfeed. That night I was moved to her room. IV’s, morphine and all. I specifically remember a moment when she and I were the only ones awake. She was swaddled up and I took a picture of her resting on her side staring directly at me and blinking with the most peaceful look in her eyes. It was at that very moment that I knew things were good. That we were both going to be ok.
And we were.
In the light of grace.
Updated to Add: They did actually find out what was wrong…they were kind of vague about telling me (I think they may have been worried about a law suit) but here’s what I pieced together. When you go into labor your uterus thins. The baby is already down the birth canal and they have to pull it back up which increases the risk of tearing. And that’s what happened. They didn’t see the tear and stitched me back up and I hemmoraged (sp?). Don’t be scared prego mommies and moms-to-be, this is actually very rare. Lots of women go through labor and then go through have emergency c-sections without any complications what so ever. I think that’s why this particular hospital did not know what to do with me…because that kind of stuff hardly ever happens. (I switched hospitals with Kainoa by the way). I think the rest of my stay in the ICU was just my body coping with two surgeries and birth. I essentially experienced two deliveries (vaginal and c-section) and I think when all was said and done it was a lot to recover from.
Reasons I Love My Husband
1.)He brings me warm bottles to give to the baby in the middle of the night when I am cussing him out in my head.
2.)He ignores my juvenile behavior and patiently waits for me to get over myself and discuss our finances like an adult.
3.)He sits back until I give him the “look” and then he swoops in and rescues me from a sure death of toddler suffocation.
4.)He sat at the door of the operating room, after I was rushed in following an emergency c-section, waiting for word of my condition…for six hours.
Nicole says
What an ordeal! I’ve been told by many friends and family that they “didn’t know how I did it” living in the hospital for five weeks, and the truth is, you just endure. You give yourself those heart to hearts, after a fair amount of “Debbie Downer” moments (and rightfully so!) you pick yourself up, dust yourself off and pull through. The truth is, you just make your way through one moment at a time.
I bet it feels like it just happened yesterday and yet, so long ago at the same time. Five years goes by fast! My oldest turns five July 3rd. Her birth, “easy peasy” -well – 31 hours of labor easy….the twins…..not so much, so I can relate in a sense to the shock, fear and frustration of such an unexpected journey.I’m so glad everything turned out well.
OHN says
Isn’t it amazing that we can’t remember what we had for breakfast, but we can remember in excruciating detail, every-single-moment of these events?
My youngest is 15 and I can tell you teensy weensy details that nobody but me remembers. Yet, I am still not sure I even ate breakfast today :)
Michelle says
What a crazy birth story! Glad you and your baby girl were ok. You are one brave lady to do it again. I am assuming Kainoa’s birth story is much more calm?
Stacey says
I’m a postpartum nurse, so I had to read every part! How scary this must have been for you and your family. Happy birthday to your little girl!!
Maya says
This left me choked up. I can relate a bit. I had complications after my c-section that resulted my being separated from my son, though not as life-threatening as yours. I was drugged up though, semi-conscious, no one on the floor knew what cardiac complications I’d had, they weren’t prepared for a postpartum mom and babies weren’t allowed off their floor. I was a wreck. I. Wanted. My. Baby. I eventually convinced a nurse to bring him to me every 3 hours to nurse, but my husband wasn’t allowed to touch him b/c then it would be a “social visit” and “social visits” were against the rules. I missed all his firsts and it still makes me sad.
Today, at my first ultrasound for my 2nd child (at a diff. hospital), I made my OB swear to me that he won’t keep this baby from me if something goes wrong again. Even if I’m unconscious I want her (or him) in my room with me and my husband.
I’m glad you’re ok! Scary stuff for sure! Happy 5th birthday to Laina :-)