Well, I have been very neglectful of my poor little blog so I thought I would give it some attention. How about the exciting Makenzy Grace to help get it started again.
Being pregnant, as I have said before, is most definitely not my thing. This time it was really hard on me. Every part of me. My emotions, my body, my mind, my little family. There were things going on in my body that I didn't tell anyone I was worried about, and I tried to be ok with. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen.
I asked my doctor if I could have the baby a week early because I was having so much trouble with everything. She suggested I go two weeks early but I didn't want to do that so that Abby would have her birthday all to herself. I didn't realize at the time that she was also a little concerned about my heart and the crazy things it was having fun doing in the last three months (maybe the whole time actually) of pregnancy. She put me on partial bed rest 7 weeks before I was due, telling me that I really needed to take it easy because of my swelling and my blood pressure. She never said anything about my heart rate, which was going from around 100 to 135 or higher for no apparent reason.
June 27th couldn't have come any faster! I was ready for it! But I was also scared to death. I was never that scared with Abby. But this time I was worried. I didn't know how my heart was going to handle getting a kid out when it was barely handling the very little I could manage to do with a 3, almost 4, year old. I didn't tell anyone I was worried about it. I told my mom what it would do but never how completely terrified I was.
Finally it was the day before we were to go to the hospital. I was sooooo happy and relieved it was almost over. And then my phone rang. It was my doctors office calling. I thought they were calling to remind me that I was supposed to be at the hospital at 5am to get ready to be induced. Like I could possibly forget that. haha I answered it fully anticipating that it was going to be a recording telling me when, where, and how. What I didn't expect was to hear my doctor on the other end. She asked how I was doing and I said I was ready for the morning. And then she asked if I would like to come in that night (Sunday night!!!) to start the induction process early by doing something a little extra. Well of course I was not turning that down. Anything to hurry that process sounded GREAT!
When we got to the hospital they hooked me up (after 5 VERY painful tries, 4 blown veins, and an infiltration) to the IV and got my fluids started. Once again I was slightly dehydrated so they kept me hooked up all night. They gave me a cervadil to help get my "stuff" ready to have that baby! Every time a new nurse came in they asked me about my "heart condition" and everyone would freak out. It was actually quite comical if they wouldn't have been making me more freaked out every time someone asked why I wasn't seeing a cardiologist or taking meds. I am guessing your heart rate trying to match the babies is NOT a good idea?
At 2:30am I started having contractions. Not bad enough to make you cry, just bad enough to not let me sleep very well. I asked for Tylenol and the nurse said no. I was ready to cry then. She said it wouldn't help so if they got over a 4 in pain to call her and she would give me a shot of Staydol. I didn't call her because I got annoyed. Plus they weren't too bad. See...I can do pain...haha
They started my Pitocin at 5am. They told me they would have the anesthesiologist come in at 7:30am and give me my epidural and came to see how I was doing at about 6:45. I was READY for that epidural by then and she said she ordered it. The changing of the guard happened at 7:30...and I was crying and waiting and praying I could just make it the few seconds I thought I had, without completely losing it and bawling. Then my new nurse, who's name was Ashlee, came in, threw a huge fit about the mess my IV cords were in, the mess the night nurses had left me and the room in, and I knew she was going to be my angel. She asked me how I was doing, and I was handling it ok. The contractions were about a 6 consistently and 7-8 every once in a while...I could do this until he got there. She looked and guess what....Night nurse Teresa didn't order my epidural. I did cry then. But Ashlee found him and he was doing one right across the hall and would came as soon as he was done. I have no idea how long that was. I just know I was doing my best not to cry and not to lose it. Then he was there. I think it must be a prerequisite for Anesthesiologist's to be tall dark and handsome (even if they are old), or maybe that is just what you see when they come in and rescue you from the pain. Either way...I don't mind. He did his magic. It took a few minutes and the pain started going away slowly. What a relief. I was only at a 1 (barely) and the baby was still way high up and not coming down anytime soon. But I wasn't hurting so bad and decided if they just cut her out I was good with that. I had to be on Oxygen because my placenta was not working right and the baby's heart wasn't doing so good because of it. Mine went WAY up and hers went down. Go figure. The oxygen worked though and all was good.
About 2:30pm the contractions started hurting again. All on my left side and slowly the pain was getting worse and worse until I could no longer hold back the tears. My mom called the nurse in and she gave me a bolus of the epidural and that helped some. About an hour later they started coming back again. Now, this whole time I had been rolling from my left to my right side trying to help get baby to come down. I was at a 7 when they started hurting so bad and I was on my left side. The baby was hiding from the monitors and they kept having to come and move them and she didn't like that. She was doing fine...just stubborn. They came in, gave me another bolus and had me roll over to my right side. That's when I absolutely could not take it anymore. I could NOT lay on that side after about 5 minutes of that and I wasn't getting a break in between the contractions, unless 30 seconds counts. My mom called the nurse back in and they checked me and I was still a 7 and the baby was still not coming down. My wonderful nurse decided to sit the bed up so I was sitting straight up and my mom and MIL said it looked like I could fall out, sat me Indian style and called "THE man" to come back and see what he could do. Once again I have no idea how long that was...but it was the longest however long of my entire life. I tried to have a conversation with the people in the room, but I don't think I did so good. And they kept all talking about me like I couldn't hear when the contractions came. Like "did you see how bad that one was", "she's not even really getting a break", "Whoa! That's a huge one!" I wanted to say "I am pretty sure I know how big it was, no I am not getting much of a break, and PLEASE someone get me something so I don't puke!" I'm not sure if I said any of that....but I was trying to! After (however long) "THE man" finally came in and gave me some extra pain meds and I have no idea what else, but wow! After about 5 minutes I was so very much better. Still sitting up Indian style but I could talk again!!! I know I asked for something to help me not throw up then. . I was trying to breath, not throw up, and be brave through the most horrible pain of my entire life (which I failed miserably at) so looking at the clock to try and remember when and how all this happened like I did with Abby was not gonna happen. My doctor came to see how I was doing at some point during all that and asked the nurse to give me something for nausea. About 20 minutes later (I'm guessing) I told my mom and Ant I was feeling like I needed to use the bathroom and I was pretty sure that meant the baby was coming NOW! The first time I was just saying it in passing...the third time my mom and mother-in-law were saying to call the nurse.
The nurse came, checked me out, told me I was complete, but that she was calling another nurse just to make sure. Another nurse came, checked me, told me to push a little and said "She's ready, call the doctor!" My doctor was there in pretty record time and they were prepping me to have the baby. I get all positioned and they check me, tell me to wait for a contraction, and then say "Push!" I did...and out came a head. No one expected that, so my doc pushed her back in, told me to wait until the nursery people got there to push again and then we all just waited. I looked at Ant because I was a little shocked and he mouthed "She's RIGHT THERE!" Once again I was quite shocked, as were my mom and mother-in-law who I asked to stay in the room too. The nursery people got there and had stuff ready and the doctor said to push again when another contraction came. And there she was....well almost. She got stuck. So the doctor had to help. I am not sure what she did. There isn't really time for questions and mirrors and such when a baby practically falls out of you. All I know is she came out, it was completely weird, and she did NOT cry. Ant cut the cord and they laid her on me while they did more gross stuff to me. She still didn't cry. I was trying really hard not to panic, but apparently they all knew she was fine even without hearing her voice because they just kept telling me that. They took her and this time I listened with all my might to hear if she was ok. When they took her she started crying a little but it sounded like she had lost her voice. It was so sad.
They weighed and measured her. A healthy 9lbs 1oz, 21 inches. I KNEW I jinxed myself with the whole "short, fat, lazy" thing. haha But I loved every single bit of those 9lbs!
So there I am, getting nasty stuff taken out of me, getting sown up, and trying my hardest to hear over the people working on me to hear what the people working on her were saying. I heard something about an eye...but Ant told me later that that was just while they were talking about the stuff they put in her eye. After they cleaned her up they gave her back to me and told me to be careful with her left arm. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what that meant, but Anthony told me that they thought something was wrong with her arm and they were going to have to xrays because she wasn't moving it. I was VERY drugged, and hardly understanding what he as saying, but I was NOT happy that yet again something was wrong with my baby.
After I got back from my surgery and Anthony brought the baby to me he told me they thought her collarbone was broken from the "having to help her out" and that they did xrays and we would know in a few hours. While I HATED that my baby was hurting and possibly broken, I was so very relived that was all it was. I was so very happy she got to stay with me and was breathing great. She was also talking. And talking, and talking, and talking. It was the most adorable thing I had ever heard. Her quiet little raspy voice just went on and on. She talked non stop for almost 48 hours. I think now that it was her way of telling us she was hurting, but it was still very very sweet.
The results came back and she was definitely broken. I cried then. I felt so awful for her. But I was still very happy that she would be ok. She would heal in about 6 weeks they said, and be good as new and no one could even tell.
Well...6 long weeks later she is thriving, happy, healthy and amazing. We have had a rough 6 weeks, but they have also been great. I will never get to have this time back and it's my last time to go through those long 6 weeks of recovery, and figuring baby out, and emotions that you can never explain. So I am thankful that while they have been rough sometimes, they have also been long days with my last baby getting to love every part of it. Sometimes when you get what you pray for it's never what you had in mind. I asked God to help me get every minute of my last baby and for it not to seem like it is going too fast, even though no matter what it will. Sometimes I wish I would stop praying for stuff because it seems like God likes to give me what I ask for...but NEVER in the easiest way. LOL But either way I am thankful for my precious baby and her big sister who I have no idea what I ever did without.
Maybe later I'll tell the story of my tubes being tied, but since this is about my baby with a 100 names (And they are Makenzy. Kenzy, Kenzy Grace, Gracey, Mac, Kenzy-kenz, Sissy, Sister, stinky, and Chubby Bug to name a few) I figured I would leave that part out. =)
No comments:
Post a Comment