Oof, how is it already almost two weeks since I posted? I'm telling you man, babies take up a lot of time.
So here's the deal. My incision opened back up about 4 days after I had Emma (blog baby name!). I noticed it bleeding one night and my doctor told me to come in the next day. There, they discovered a hematoma tunneling under the wound. There was blood EVERYWHERE. They cleaned it out, packed it with gauze, and sent me to wound care at my local hospital. Wound care saw my wound and were kind of appalled at the thing. Apparently all of my stitches were gone and nothing had healed at all.
I came back the next day for them to repack the wound, but they discovered another hematoma and the PA was able to completely open my wound back up just using a Q tip. Apparently things looked Bad because they called in a surgeon. She took one look at me and was like, "I want you admitted to the hospital." She didn't think I was going to need another surgery, but she wanted to do a CT scan, give me IV antibiotics, and monitor me more closely. Fortunately the CT scan came back clear, so surgery was officially off the table and I was able to go home the next day.
I finally got the wound vac installed this Friday before last and it's already significantly sped up the healing process. The problem is that the dressing change for this thing is PAINFUL. And it has to happen 3 times a week. I dread, dread, dread going in for it.
I also decided to to stop exclusively pumping, so I'm in the process of weaning myself from that. And let me tell you, that hurts too. Like, way more than I was expecting. I didn't pump this much for Jack so I guess that's why the weaning process was so much easier last time? I don't know.
So what I'm trying to tell you is that everything hurts.
And I know it's not the end of the world and there are lots of people who have things way worse. I know it's going to get better. I know I won't be hooked up to this wound vac for forever and my boobs will eventually dry up (Right?) and Emma will start sleeping for longer stretches of time. I know I won't be in pain for forever. I know I will sleep again. But sometimes that's hard to believe when you're in the middle of it. You know?
Alex goes back to work tomorrow and I am on my own with both kids. Just me and them and the wound vac. I'm anxious to see how we'll all survive.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
The Final Countdown
I didn't get a chance to post yesterday, so a shortened entry today will have to do.
I'M HAVING A BABY TODAY, OMG.
That's really what I've mostly been thinking about these past few hours. Also: HOW AM I SO THIRSTY ALREADY, I STILL HAVE 6 HOURS TO GO, OMG.
So yes, C Section is scheduled for this afternoon and I had to stop eating and drinking at 7 am. I got up at 6:15 and ate a very large breakfast and drank as much water as I could, but it doesn't matter because I want to drink all the water NOW. And I've still got 5 hours to go, as of this writing. I can't remember if they gave me water or ice chips in recovery last time. Will they give me something in recovery? I hope so, because the nice anesthesia lady who called me last night said I'd be in there for 2 hours.
I took some extra time with Jack this morning and cuddled him a little more than normal. We took pictures since today is his last day of being an only child. He is...oblivious. We sent him to school so he'd have a pretty normal day before everything goes kablooey.
My friends and family, you know, Y'ALL, have been wonderful and amazing and supportive and I've been so happy to get all of your e-mails and texts and facebook messages and comments. It's been really helping me keep my spirits up and take the focus off of FREAKING OUT over the surgery and the baby.
So that's it. We made it to today. I occasionally thought this day may never come during the past 9 months. But it's here. Let's do this.
I'M HAVING A BABY TODAY, OMG.
That's really what I've mostly been thinking about these past few hours. Also: HOW AM I SO THIRSTY ALREADY, I STILL HAVE 6 HOURS TO GO, OMG.
So yes, C Section is scheduled for this afternoon and I had to stop eating and drinking at 7 am. I got up at 6:15 and ate a very large breakfast and drank as much water as I could, but it doesn't matter because I want to drink all the water NOW. And I've still got 5 hours to go, as of this writing. I can't remember if they gave me water or ice chips in recovery last time. Will they give me something in recovery? I hope so, because the nice anesthesia lady who called me last night said I'd be in there for 2 hours.
I took some extra time with Jack this morning and cuddled him a little more than normal. We took pictures since today is his last day of being an only child. He is...oblivious. We sent him to school so he'd have a pretty normal day before everything goes kablooey.
My friends and family, you know, Y'ALL, have been wonderful and amazing and supportive and I've been so happy to get all of your e-mails and texts and facebook messages and comments. It's been really helping me keep my spirits up and take the focus off of FREAKING OUT over the surgery and the baby.
So that's it. We made it to today. I occasionally thought this day may never come during the past 9 months. But it's here. Let's do this.
Monday, January 02, 2012
Panic
I know I've mentioned before that I had a really terrible experience with post partum depression and anxiety after Jack was born. The depression wasn't anything new...I've been mega depressed before, so while it is not fun or pretty or easy, I can usually slog through it because I've been there before. But the anxiety was something altogether new. I had never had a panic attack before, never even knew what exactly they were, and was COMPLETELY unprepared for them. It took an embarrassing long amount of time for me to figure out what was going on (I was pretty much convinced I was dying.) and they really didn't start to abate until I got back on anti-depressants, this time with an extra dose of anti-anxiety meds thrown in for good measure.
I chose to get off of the anti-depressants again this pregnancy because I'm dumb. I really should have just stayed on them, but it's hard for me to go against what my doctor recommends even if that doctor is a total jerk face who lied to me and was clearly unconcerned about my well being. (I've since switched doctors and my current OB was, surprise!, totally okay with me getting back on anti-depressants if I needed it.)
So unsurprisingly, my anxiety level during this pregnancy has been kind of high. Things haven't been TOO bad (I haven't cried everyday! I voluntarily leave the house!) And I think it's been better because 1) we planned this pregnancy and 2) I am now aware that babies and toddlers can be fun and lovely and wonderful and not life-ruiners. But that's not to say this has been easy. Oh no, it's been a battle. I'm not completely even keel and have been on edge for most of the past 8 months. (Just ask my husband what a joy I've been!) The difference this time is that I knew to look for this and have been better able to fight it...with varying degrees of success.
Last night, I had a pretty sweet panic attack that came out of the blue. Definitely the worst one of this pregnancy. I'm not even certain what caused it and I think that's one reason why I had such a hard time with it. Usually I can feel the panic creeping in and am able to fight it off with prayer and deep breathing and positive thoughts and distractions and whatever else. But this hit me like a ton of bricks and I was panicking before I even really knew what was happening. I shouldn't be surprised since I've noticed my anxiety level rising as my due date draws closer. (I am DREADING having another C Section and the subsequent recovery. Not to mention the normal fears of having a new life for which you are responsible.) I wound up in our bedroom rocking and trying to focus and calm down and breathe, breathe, BREATHE while Alex and Jack were rough housing on our bed. Alex knew something was up and I was trying to calmly tell him what was going on without freaking out and scaring Jack. I didn't do a good enough job because Jack noticed something was wrong. He got a very serious look on his face and walked over me intently. Then he said, "Don't worry, Mama."
And oh man, you guys, it was the SWEETEST THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD AND MY HEART EXPLODED IN A BAZILLION PIECES. I gave him a hug and he ran off to play and he was completely oblivious to me once again. At first I blew it off because what does he know? He's 2! But then I got to thinking that he's right. I shouldn't worry. Things are going to be okay. And maybe God was using him to speak to me. I felt this weird sense of comfort as I kept focusing on his little innocent face telling me not to worry. It still took a while for everything to settle back to normal, but I can definitely say that him telling me not worry was the turning point.
I have no good way to wrap up this story and there's really no point, unless you want to take away that the best way to stop a panic attack is to get an adorable 2 year old to tell you not to worry. But I've thought about it again and again today as I entered super-mega-OMG-we'rehavingababyin2weeks-wemustbuythingsandcleanthehouseNOW!!!!!!!!! mode.
And I thought you'd like to know. He thinks I'm going to be okay. I think so too.
I chose to get off of the anti-depressants again this pregnancy because I'm dumb. I really should have just stayed on them, but it's hard for me to go against what my doctor recommends even if that doctor is a total jerk face who lied to me and was clearly unconcerned about my well being. (I've since switched doctors and my current OB was, surprise!, totally okay with me getting back on anti-depressants if I needed it.)
So unsurprisingly, my anxiety level during this pregnancy has been kind of high. Things haven't been TOO bad (I haven't cried everyday! I voluntarily leave the house!) And I think it's been better because 1) we planned this pregnancy and 2) I am now aware that babies and toddlers can be fun and lovely and wonderful and not life-ruiners. But that's not to say this has been easy. Oh no, it's been a battle. I'm not completely even keel and have been on edge for most of the past 8 months. (Just ask my husband what a joy I've been!) The difference this time is that I knew to look for this and have been better able to fight it...with varying degrees of success.
Last night, I had a pretty sweet panic attack that came out of the blue. Definitely the worst one of this pregnancy. I'm not even certain what caused it and I think that's one reason why I had such a hard time with it. Usually I can feel the panic creeping in and am able to fight it off with prayer and deep breathing and positive thoughts and distractions and whatever else. But this hit me like a ton of bricks and I was panicking before I even really knew what was happening. I shouldn't be surprised since I've noticed my anxiety level rising as my due date draws closer. (I am DREADING having another C Section and the subsequent recovery. Not to mention the normal fears of having a new life for which you are responsible.) I wound up in our bedroom rocking and trying to focus and calm down and breathe, breathe, BREATHE while Alex and Jack were rough housing on our bed. Alex knew something was up and I was trying to calmly tell him what was going on without freaking out and scaring Jack. I didn't do a good enough job because Jack noticed something was wrong. He got a very serious look on his face and walked over me intently. Then he said, "Don't worry, Mama."
And oh man, you guys, it was the SWEETEST THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD AND MY HEART EXPLODED IN A BAZILLION PIECES. I gave him a hug and he ran off to play and he was completely oblivious to me once again. At first I blew it off because what does he know? He's 2! But then I got to thinking that he's right. I shouldn't worry. Things are going to be okay. And maybe God was using him to speak to me. I felt this weird sense of comfort as I kept focusing on his little innocent face telling me not to worry. It still took a while for everything to settle back to normal, but I can definitely say that him telling me not worry was the turning point.
I have no good way to wrap up this story and there's really no point, unless you want to take away that the best way to stop a panic attack is to get an adorable 2 year old to tell you not to worry. But I've thought about it again and again today as I entered super-mega-OMG-we'rehavingababyin2weeks-wemustbuythingsandcleanthehouseNOW!!!!!!!!! mode.
And I thought you'd like to know. He thinks I'm going to be okay. I think so too.
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