After just 4 hours of sleep, I woke up to go pee and couldn't go back to sleep with all of the excitement of the day, so I decided to stay awake. I knew that I'd be paying for it later.
With no breakfast or anything to drink, I served the boys theirs. We took them to stay with their aunt and uncle and cousins for the night (they live about 45 minutes away). We unforgivably forgot Samuel's pillow-pet and comforter, so we had to go back home to take it to my mother-in-law's house so she could give it to them later. Problem solved. :)
I went through admissions, and they had me wheeled upstairs by an older lady, a volunteer, for whom I felt guilty for having to wheel me since she was old enough to be my grandmother. (It's a silly hospital rule.) They then did all my blood work and prepped me for surgery. My OB had already talked to my anesthesiologist about my fears and concerns of having another spinal, so the anesthesiologist had already pulled my file and looked at the dosage the last guy used and came up with a good plan for me. He sat and talked with me and Michael for 15-20 minutes, making sure we felt completely comfortable. I did. It was great. I was truly grateful for him and my OB for working all of that out.
They wheeled me on my bed into the operating room. I started getting pretty nervous at this point, so nervous that I was shaking and clattering my teeth unavoidably. The coldness of the OR didn't help, either. He did my spinal (which is quite uncomfortable but not really as bad as people make it out to be), laid me back, gently put towels over my outstretched arms with tape loosely applied over it so I didn't grab anything, put an oxygen mask on my face, and put the drape between me and my belly. It's a very out-of-control feeling. I asked if I could have my right arm for a minute to adjust my mask. He granted me permission, and I kept my arm out the whole time with the promise that he could tie it back down if I was irresponsible with it. The spinal was really good. It didn't numb too much or too little. I was very pleasantly surprised with it. It was still uncomfortable because it's such a weird sensation to be numb and not be able to move your legs and yet still feel tugging, but it wasn't unbearable at all. I really can't believe that I almost didn't have another kid for that whole reason. You have to really be in control of your mind during it all, though or fear will grip you, and it's hard to turn away once you're there.
My sweet baby Isaac came into the world. Michael was snapping pictures like a sports photographer, giving me a play by play of what was happening. Then I finally saw my baby, and I was instantly in love. I knew he was a biggun' when I saw his little rolls, and I was proven correct when they weighed him in at 10 pounds and 3 ounces and 20.5 inches. I felt very vindicated at that moment (too bad he wasn't 55 pounds, though...). I absolutely loved having him there by my face, being able to calm him with just my voice and the touch of my cheek. It was a very special moment, something I wasn't able to have with the first two.
1/3/11 2:00PM or so
I don't remember what time exactly, but they wheeled both me and the baby into the recovery room together, something they didn't used to do. And since his glucose level was low, they gave him some glucose water and a tiny bit of formula. It wasn't ideal, but I dropped the ball on hand-expressing some of my colostrum at home, so we had to do what was best for him. He was difficult to begin nursing. The nurse had to help me a lot because he was so sleepy and didn't want to latch, and I was still very numb and not able to maneuver very well. He eventually did nurse, but I still decided to pump when I got into my room because he was being a bit lazy.
1/3/11 3:00PM or so
That night was rough. Thank God Michael was with me. Not only was I high on morphine with people coming in the room every five minutes for God knows what, but I was trying to nurse this sleepy newborn while in extreme pain with tubes and hospital bracelets everywhere while I could not get comfortable in any position due to my incision. It was much worse than I remember it with Levi, but part of that is because I had my tubes tied, too. I know all of my natural-birth sisters are shaking their heads, saying, "I told you so," about natural birth being better, but what do you do? I don't think I had a choice, really. (Maybe I'll write a post defending my stance one day.)
The nursing was still going good and my wonderful friend Megan stayed that night with me to relieve Michael to take care of the boys, but early that morning is when the pain really set in. I started to wonder if he was tongue-tied like Levi was. Every nurse and the one semi-lousy lactation consultant that came in said that his latch was great and not to worry, and one of the pediatricians said that it didn't look like he was tongue-tied. So where was I going wrong? That's why so many people quit breastfeeding so early on. This first two weeks is hell trying to diagnosis every little thing, wondering how much pain is normal. Well, they discharged me by about 1PM that day, and when I got home the pain was so great that I was wailing every time I nursed him. I had my own favorite lactation consultant come out to the house that night for a consultation, and she said that he did look he had a posterior tongue-tie. So she recommended me to an ENT in Dallas that specializes in hard to spot tongue-ties. I just kept telling myself that I had to make it through the night. More sobbing ensued, and we decided that I would pump all night and Michael would syringe-feed him. Isaac wouldn't latch anyway because of the pain he was in, so it worked out. To say that I was having baby blues was an understatement. I was having quite a rough time, and my swollen eyes proved it the next morning.
...To Be Continued...