The thing is... I know there is no chance everyone was wearing white, but I am being truthful when I tell you that my memories of the next 20-30 minutes are filled with WHITE. Odd I know considering I was having my little miracle surgically removed from my body. But maybe it is symbolic somehow.
This room, where I was physically separated from my daughter was where the source of my anxiety and night terrors began.
I remember being rolled into the room. It was WHITE lol. The lights all seemed super bright and clear... the walls seemed white. It was like one of those dream sequences from any movie where they try to depict heaven. I was still feeling quite woozy and just on the edge of vomiting at every moment. If anyone out there thinks a woman having an emergency c section or even just a planned one is a ONE sided effort... they are ridiculously mistaken. The effort I put into remaining calm, not getting overheated, and NOT tossing my cookies right there on the table was a MONUMENTAL one.
The first thing was the transfer onto the operating table. Funny thing is I can't fully remember how that went down. But I do clearly remember the spinal block, or epidural or whatever it was they did to me that paralyzed the entire lower 3/4 of my body. I remember the sweetest young lady (her face is a total blur sadly but her countenance of calm and confidence was unforgettable) asking me to sit up on the edge of the table and put my feet down on what seemed like steps. Basically I am in sitting position and she said "ok sweetie, I need you to hug like you know me well and rest your head on my shoulder so your back will curl. I also need you to say perfectly still. You are going to feel a fairly decent pressure and pinch in your lower back but I need you not to move when you feel it. You can do this honey." I obeyed. Honestly I did feel it push through my back and the thought of it was a bit ominous, but once it was in I was ok.
They helped me lay back down and put a fan on my face at which point I almost threw up my entire stomach. I was hot and I needed the fan, but just the sensation of anything touching or affecting my body... the breeze on my face was turning my stomach. Completely wild.
They begin pricking me in my feet and legs asking if I feel anything. I didn't. They slowly moved up my legs and to my hips at which point I did still feel it. So they waited a few more minutes and pricked again. No feeling in my hips this time. I thought "I bet I can move my toes right now anyway." HAHAHAHHHAHHAHAHAHAHHA I felt nothing. Pricked my belly and up to my ribs..... WERE GOOD. Nothin there. I may as well have a a living BUST at this point.
My amazing savior of a doctor asked Greg if he wanted to see any of it. He made his case CLEAR. "This is the Mason Dixon line.... you work south of it and I'll work up here north of it." That I do remember because he had planned to say it regardless of how Eden was born lololol.
Truly the next physical body memory I have is of my whole body being somewhat "jerked and jostled" around. Mind you I don't mean in an abusive way! (well... my body was in total abuse itself mode so maybe I do!) I mean that I KNEW there were two sets of hands in side my body pulling and tugging. Upon each tug and pull I could feel myself about to throw up again. The WHOLE time I was literally tip toeing around the base of Mt. St Helens about to blow again. Churning and bubbling..... the natives were ramping it up with one of their sauciest rhythms and I had to once again shush them in my head. Ok...somewhat calm again. I felt like my own conductor trying to "hush" the brass during a Wagner opera so the singer could be heard. It was a real "Kill the Wabbit" kind of moment.
More tugging and pulling and the occasional jerk. Greg is watching me. I wondered what he must be seeing on my face during all this. I do remember catching a glimpse of myself completely swollen and sick on the way into the OR... I could not believe it was me. So what must he have been thinking??? The anesthesiologist... or forgive me whoever it was to my right tried to blow the fan on my face again and I remember saying "NO.... not working!" He giggled and took it right away.
Then....SHE was here. I heard my doctor say "listen... can you hear that?" We both listened so closely for just a few seconds when we heard it. Two or three of the tiniest micro sized kitten from a mile away whimpers. I could not believe it. She was alive. She was crying. We looked at each other with that look of "she's going to be OK."
Greg didn't want to see her until I could. He didn't want to see them working on her either. He also didn't want to chance crossing south of that paper curtain line for fear of seeing his wife's insides lolol. He stayed right by my side while Eden's fearless neonatologist and NICU team took her and prepared her for immediate transport to the NICU.
They wheeled her by on the way out trying to give me a chance to see her but all I could see was a plastic baggy which she had already wiggled her way out of inside of the transport isolette. The baggy was to seal in the moisture she would no doubt rapidly lose being so underdeveloped.
She was in there and the fact that they were in such a hurry told me she had a chance. A chance was all we were praying for because if she was anything like either one of us.... she was a BORN fighter. The last thing her doctor said to Greg as he was leaving was "You don't really want to see me for the next hour. If I come back before then... it's not likely good. We have a got a chance though."
From there I remember them putting my parts back inside and sewing me up. Those pesky emergency c sections require a little more cleaning up after. I was told I had a vertical uterine incision and I could see the low transverse incision on the outside of my tummy. Between those two....I won't lie....PAIN.
I do remember being rolled down to the NICU though I seriously cannot remember how long it was before I got to see her. I could have been 2 hours it could have been 4. Greg says they took me back to my L and D room to stabilize me and apparently I passed out for several hours. I'm inclined to believe him :))))
My dad of course always on the verge of crying. Greg... exhausted and satisfied... PROUD.
I was stable... my BP was coming down slightly as it would because delivery really is the only cure for Preeclampsia... the "foreign" object is now removed from my body so it will begin to heal and the baby can now have a chance at fighting without being attacked. Of course Eden had a zillion other things to fight against now but at least she had a team of doctors, nurses and RT's fighting FOR her. And ME.... I was headed to my own set of battles in recovery. But not before they rolled me down to see her the one time for a few moments before heading to my room.
I was on my back being wheeled in by MCDREAMY.... Sorry.... couldn't help it hahhhaah and of course my Mom and Greg.
And this is the moment where I got to meet my daughter. Yet another ANGEL introduced me to her. She followed our whole journey and is still following it. She gave me Eden's hand through the isolette to touch for the first time. I was so afraid to touch her for fear of causing an infection or stimulating her micro sized body...(1 lb. 3 oz) into a bad place.
But I was thankful to GOD for this moment. I was also thankful that we made a little girl who could have a chance fighting through all this.
Then it was back to my room where I would begin my healing process. Full of fluid.. BP still quite elevated but already improving...feeling like I was living under a french fry lamp.
And Greg as always by my bedside...asking me what I needed.
And I would need A LOT in the next week of recovery there. But God put the right people all around me to fill every need perfectly.
No comments:
Post a Comment