We are home

What a whirlwind the past 2 weeks have been!  I had a scheduled c-section on Wednesday, March 5 at 5:45 pm.  I really was very scared, and honestly hoped that my pregnancy was not going to end that way. 

When we got to the hospital, I was immediately greeted by my nurse (whose name I just can’t remember), who tried really hard to ensure that I was comfortable.  I was.  I was put on the fetal monitor, which said that the baby was fine.  That was good.  Dr. Wong, the anesthesiologist that was assigned to me, was very calm, and advised me that they couldn’t put me to sleep and then give me the iv.  I had to have the iv first.  I really didn’t want it, but after about 15 minutes, I decided that I was having an iv.  Surprisingly, I did OK, and the iv was in.  Then I had to walk to the operating room.  That was scary.  I really was scared about the whole thing, but again, I just did it.  I got up on the table, the nurse did a bit of shaving, and then I started to cry.  We were waiting a bit longer for the assistant than Dr. Grolle wanted to.  He asked me why I was crying…  Here I was on the table, with my arms and legs tied down, just scared to death.  I told him that I was just scared, and he assured me that there really wasn’t anything to be scared of.  Now coming from a man, that was an interesting statement.  I could see John on the other side of the glass, he had his camera taking a ton of pictures.  Dr. Wong wouldn’t let him be in the room, as his only function was to support me, and I would be sleeping.  Finally the assistant arrived, I was introduced, and the mask was put over my face.

Yes, that’s right.  I had general anesthesia, not a spinal tap.  I just really did not want to be awake.  I didn’t want to feel the pulling or any of it.  I figured that I could wait to see the baby until after the surgery was done.  I was right.

I woke up asking for John, he was with the baby (taking all kinds of pictures).  Dr. Grolle went and retrieved him from the nursery, and then they brought the baby to me.  Like I cared.  I don’t really remember much, except that my mom and dad were both there, along with my aunt DeDe.  I was surprised about that.  I had told my dad when it was going to happen, but that he shouldn’t come until Friday, just so that I could rest.  Boy howdy, was he proud, as was my mom.  I just kept hearing how beautiful he was.  After a while in recovery, the nurses whisked me away to my room.  I will say that it was really obvious that they were used to spinal tap and not general anesthesia patients.  The aide that moved me was going so fast that it hurt.  Then I basically moved myself from the gurney to my bed.  I don’t know how many people were there, but they all wanted me to move faster than I was able to.  I felt really man-handled.  Needless to say, that was the worst part of my experience, moving from recovery to my room.

Over the next 4 days, John only left my side 2 times, both to run home, take a shower, and have a bit of time on his own.  He slept on the pull out chair in my private room (yeah!).  I did the two required blood draws and RH- shot without incidence.  I also had my staples removed.  I was a bit embarrassed that I made such a fuss about having them removed, but I did, and it was nothing.  Really.  Nothing.  No pain at all.

It took John and I until Friday (because the registrar wasn’t working over the weekend) to pick a name.  Sean Hunter.  I tried really hard for Colin George, but John had decided what the name was when I was in recovery.  Almost the first thing he said to me was “He doesn’t look like a Colin, he looks like a Sean.  Hmm.  Like I can argue with that.  So, I called him Colin until Friday at about 2pm, where Sean officially became Sean.  I think he looks like a Colin, but I spent the past three months calling him Colin.  John really likes the fact the Sean is Gaelic for John.  So the baby is kind of named after him.

We came home on Sunday the 8th, with Sean’s weight dropped to 8 lbs 6 ozs.  We went to the Dr. on Monday, where he weighed the same.  We went back on Wednesday, and he remained the same.  Friday I called because the Dr. said that Sean should have 12 poopie diapers a day.  He had 3.  You know it, he had lost another 1/2 an ounce. 

Saturday we spent almost 2 hours with the lactation specialist.  In the first 15 minutes Sean had peed all over me, and I was being basically condemned about my breast reduction surgery 17 years ago…  She made some comment as if I should have regretted that decision.  I told her, Dr. Pearl told me that if I could breastfeed before, I could breastfeed now.  She asked me if I had another baby.  Yeah, if I had another baby I wouldn’t be there.  I would already know what to do.  Hmph.  She wanted me to take more herbs, drink more of the breast-feeding tea, and pump 8-10 times a day.  So, John and I got home, and I really tried.  If I wasn’t feeding Sean, I was pumping.  I didn’t sleep, neither did John.  The two of us were a mess.

Monday, we walked in to the Dr.‘s office to 8 lbs 6 ozs.  Not even 1 oz of weight gain.  The Dr. asked me how things had gone on Saturday, and I told her, I hated pumping and that I could only muster 5 pumping’s a day, and that was yielding less than one ounce of breast milk each time.  Dr. finally said what I was hoping and praying for…  “Lets stop this madness.  Stressed out, sleep deprived mom’s don’t make good milk.” 

Now, Sean is on 3 breast feedings a day, and as much formula as he can eat.  I just hope he does eat.  He is a great sleeper, doesn’t fuss much, and while he may be hungry, if you aren’t holding him, you would never know.

All I can say is that I’m still pretty tired, I’m trying to heal my incision, and working diligently to get my little man to eat.