I finally made it to my room at close to 10pm Monday night. I still couldn't open my eyes, for some reason they were swollen shut. But I knew my husband and my mom were still there. I remember asking them, "Did I give you guys a scare?" I got a very exasperated "YES" from both of them. It was probably a good thing I couldn't see their faces. I vaguely remember the doctor stopping by and confirming it was a hysterectomy. I was in a complete fog and did not fully understand what had happened yet. I know I called one of my co-workers and I think she was at a ball game and couldn't hear me good. I ended up texting her about the hysterectomy. I wasn't very subtle about it, and I blame it on the medicine.
Really all I remember about that night is itching all over and my throat was dry and sore. I was given Benadryl and pain medicine and had an ice pack across my abdomen. Oh, and I got another serving of red Jello. I was still starving!!
The next morning, all the events began to come to light. It felt like they were talking about someone else instead of what had happened to me. None of it felt real.
My doctor had tried to do the DNC for over an hour. The placenta was breaking into pieces and was stuck to the uterine wall. I was loosing way to much blood. Finally, she went to my husband in the waiting room and explained to him what was going on. I needed a blood transfusion immediately, and a hysterectomy. Otherwise, I was going to bleed to death right there on the table. They actually almost lost me. I had two transfusions during the surgery and had to be incubated (I think that's the right term for it!). That was why my throat was sore.
I really don't know when they brought little C-Bug in to the room. I honestly was still so out of it and felt like I was having an out of body experience. This couldn't have happened to me. I bounce back too quick and this wasn't going to hold me down. Ha. I do remember trying to nurse C every time she was ready to eat. Unfortunately because she was bottle fed on demand the first 24 hours, she didn't have the patience to nurse. But I tried and tried as much as she would. At least she was able to get the colostrum, or as the doctors like to call it: liquid gold.
Later that day, they removed my catheter and got me up on the side of the bed to try and go to the bathroom. No problem. Just get me to my feet and I'll do the rest.
I was in for a very rude awakening.
For some, this may be an over share, but I'm documenting this for myself and I'm trying to be brutally honest here. No sugar coating. When I tried to stand up, I couldn't. At least not without support from a nurse on each side. As soon as I stood, my bladder failed me. Yes, I peed all over the floor and had no control over it. I. Was. Pissed. Literally and figuratively speaking. Why didn't I have control over my bladder and why couldn't I walk on my own? I'm She-Ra, hear me roar!! I don't need help.
Humbling.
As aggravating as it was, it was also humbling. Turns out I wasn't the perfect, strong, bounce right back mama I thought I was. And coughing? Oh my goodness. I had to brace myself against a wall, hold my belly, and gently work out the cough. I was obviously going to pee on myself when I did, but it hurt like hell too. But honestly, that wasn't the worst part of it all. The gas pain was.
I begged for gas ex. It felt like I had a helium balloon inside of me and I seriously begged the nurses to just pop me and let the gas out. It was horrible. When asked what my pain was on a scale of 1-10 I would say anywhere from 11 to 13. So they kept me on pain meds, even though I told them the pain was strictly from the gas. I couldn't even feel where they had cut me open. No pain from the birth either (she was only 4 pounds, 13 1/2 ounces). Pain meds, anti gas, iron, stool softener. Around the clock. Nothing was helping.
Apparently when you are cut open and closed up, it's kind of like trying to get all the air out of a zip lock bag when you seal it: virtually impossible. My body needed to pass the gas out to get relief, and it wasn't happening Thursday, just when I was sure they would let me go home, the doctor told me I couldn't because I hadn't passed gas. Seriously? To be quite blunt, I needed to shatter the windows and it just wasn't happening. No bowel movement either. It ended up being a good thing I didn't go home that day because it was my worst day.
The pain got so bad that I had to have my husband hit the call button because I couldn't even reach for it. I could hardly breathe I was crying, screaming, and stiff as a board when they tried to move me. Everything hurt to the touch. Two very patient, very understanding nurses came in with the doctor. They gave me (what would be my second) enema in hopes of getting something moving. Now, there was a funny in there. Not so much at the time, but later my husband and I couldn't help but laugh. So here I am, in all my glory having both nurses hoist me in to the bathroom. They are going to do the enema there. So the one nurse puts everything in one of those lovely puke buckets, and sets it on the shelf above the commode. The blasted thing fell off the shelf and hit me in the head. Really? Insult to injury much?? They took me back to the bed, give me the stupid, non working, violating all things that could be violated, and proceed to give me some really, really potent pain killer through my iv. Next thing I know they toss me in the shower with the hottest water possible trying to get me to relax and have dear hubby babysit me. Poor thing, he didn't know what to do with me. I didn't know what to do with me. I just prayed. I thanked God for giving me a second chance at life and begged for his help. Help me through this. Help me understand why it was happening to me. At that moment I told God I was thankful to be alive, that I didn't want to die yet, that I wasn't ready. I also told him the pain was so bad that even though I didn't want to die, I did want to. It was an awful feeling, physically and emotionally.
I took several more really hot showers that day and night, trying to relax my body. I walked the whole hospital, and that wasn't easy. Walking was supposed to help get the gas moving, and in the end, it's exactly what worked. Believe me, I tried every suggestion that came my way. One nurse, my "Grey's Anatomy" nurse as I like to call her, (her uniform had it on the pocket tag) told me to get on all fours and put my butt up in the air. Gas travels up so it should work. Bless her, she was the only one of my nurses that actually wasn't a mama yet and had never been through what I was going through. Did I try it? Absolutely. The only thing it released was some of my husband's tension. He got out of the shower and walked in to the room seeing me on all fours on the bed and burst into laughter. I'm sure I was a sight.
Finally by Friday I was fit to be tied. I wanted to go home. You know how they say if there is a set of twin babies and one is sick, put the other with her in the same bed and watch them start getting better? That's the way I felt about going home. My babies at home needed me and I needed them. I needed to be able to bond with C-Bug too. It was so hard in the hospital with all the iv's and cords hooked up to me. I felt so restricted. My doctor approved for me to go home, but she was more than willing to have me stay another night. She also told me she was on call all weekend so if anything got as bad as the day before, to come right back to her. That made me feel so much better.
Going over the discharge information, I gained some interesting knowledge. Actually I already knew it but in all my distress it never crossed my mind. Pain medicine will actually constipate you. Why had I been taking it around the clock when it wasn't doing any good anyway??
The week had been full of doctors, nurses, and nursing students. Those students learned a lot from my case I'm sure. By that day though, my sarcasm was sneaking back in and I had fun giving them a hard time. I knew how to work have that machinery better than they did as long as I had been there!! I finally told my doctor that the smart ass in me was coming back and I was sick of crying, it's time to go! I love that doctor, she just laughed with me.
Homeward bound to surprise the other two when they get out of school!
More on the recovery in posts to follow.
Amy
Showing posts with label hysterectomy after vaginal delivery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hysterectomy after vaginal delivery. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
37 Weeks: The Delivery and The Surgery
This is going to be a long post, but it's something I'm doing for myself as well. I want to keep all the details of what took place during our delivery. It was life changing. I have a lot to be thankful for and I do not ever want to forget what happened. I am hoping this may help someone else in the future as well.
It was 12:45am on Monday morning, November 18th. I got up to use the bathroom, laid back down, and felt the urge to go again. By the time I got down the hall, the pad I was wearing (as I had been wearing them for a few days anticipating a water leak) was soaked. C-Bug (my nickname for her), had been playing havoc on my bladder for a few days. A week earlier I was concerned my water was leaking and she was just dancing on the bladder making me pee myself. Fun times.
I went back to my resting spot on the couch and continued to feel the wetness over the course of the following hour. I went up and down the hall to use the bathroom. I walked back and forth through the kitchen trying to figure out if I was truly leaking amniotic fluid or not. Eventually I walked outside and started walking on the porch.
Let me back up a minute here. Earlier in the evening I was so stressed from the stomach flu (see my earlier post), the tests I would go through the upcoming week, and the cheer competition my 8 year old daughter would be in that next weekend. I am also a coach for her cheer squad and have been teaching the competition dance (yes, at 9 months pregnant; I'm an over achiever.) I had been so worried about teaching the girls the remaining part of the dance, making sure they have everything they need, etc, that I was making myself sick. I just really wanted to make it through the competition. I finally realized how silly I was being. I prayed. I asked God to forgive me and finally let it go into his hands. I said, God, if it's your will I know I'll go tonight. I can't worry about cheer leading any longer, it will all work out. May your will be done in my life Lord, take these worries away. I immediately felt better.
Back to walking the porch. I stopped and looked up at the night sky. FULL MOON. All I could do was burst into laughter. Now the question was, do I wake up my husband? How long should I wait. No contractions yet, no bloody show. Was I entering labor?
I laid back down about 2 am, and my husband was waking up. I told him what was going on but I wasn't sure if I was in labor or not. Then, contractions started. Over the next hour I had 5 contractions. The rule was if you have 6 in an hour, call the doctor. So I told my husband to call his dad to come sit with our other two children and we should just go and be checked out. On the way to the hospital, I had two more contractions fairly close. We were fairly sure this was it.
After being checked in and let them examine me, it was confirmed my water had broken. It was 3:35 am. However, the contractions stopped. So we waited, with the option of starting Pitocin whenever I was ready to. I really did not want to be induced with Pitocin, it makes the contractions so painful. Not to mention, I was finally getting my appetite back from having the stomach flu and I was starving. Food was not an option. At some point I did talk them in to letting me have some jello, which was honestly just enough to piss me off. :-) If I would have known how long it was going to be I would have stayed home and had a good meal!!
Phone calls were made but we told everyone not to rush. It looked like this one was not going to be any quicker than the other two deliveries were. (13 hours with my first born, 11 with my second.) It was between 8-9am that my contractions started back. I was approaching 9 hours since my water broke so they really wanted to start the Pitocin. Grudgingly I let them, and requested my epidural within a half hour after that. Thank the Lord the doctor was in the hospital already and I didn't have to wait. I had been forewarned that if he wasn't there, it could be an hour or more.
The nurses complimented me on how I breathed through the contractions, encouraged me that I was doing a good job. The Pitocin was on the slowest drip possible so it was mainly all me with the contractions. By the time the doctor was in there, I was about to break the bed frame. They told me to sit up and lean over the rolling hospital table so they could get the epidural started. It took a few minutes but I finally managed and with the support of my husband, I stayed as still as a statue, even during contractions. My husband, nor the doctor, could believe I could manage to be so still while injecting me with numbing medicine and then the (apparently huge-although I've never seen it) epidural needle. Mind over matter.
Within just a few minutes I was pain free and watching the monitor to see when I was having contractions. They checked my cervix and I was at a 4. A short time later I was checked again and jumped from a 4 to a 6 while they were checking me. In no time I was at an 8. But, just like my other two babies, stayed that way for a while.
Her heart rate would drop some when I had a contraction so they decided to pump me full of fluid by iv and through my cervix. My husband and I talked about how she was doing the exact same thing as our first born. Not enough fluid, umbilical cord getting pinched somehow during contractions. It was identical. We were watched carefully for several hours.
My mom arrived, his mom came over on her lunch break, and his dad was there. Although his dad bolted for the waiting room when my contractions really started and I was in pain (prior to the epidural). About 3pm my mom called his mom to come back over, we were getting close. As I'm laying there listening to the moms and my husband talk, I'm watching her heart rate and contractions on the monitor. For her heart rate, it needed to stay in the blue area of the monitor. There was a pink line above and below showing if it got too high or too low. Finally, the entire heart monitor turned pink. I told the parents to get ready, the nurses and doctors were on their way. (The nurses watched the monitor from their station outside). Sure enough, here comes the whole team.
The bed was dropped and I was checked. The moms were encouraged to head for the door, as my husband and I had always agreed it was just to be the two of us during delivery. His mom begged to stay. At that point I didn't care if the Pope and President was there, it was time for her to come out. But by our wishes it was just my husband and I. It's bad enough for him to see me go through what I did, and I really didn't want anyone else to witness it. I also didn't know how aggressive I would get and the last thing I would want is to hurt some one's feelings.
I was just at a 9, and like my first born, I pushed to get to a 10. I managed to only say one cuss word during the whole ordeal. 50 minutes of pushing later, my teeny tiny, 4 pounds 13.6 ounce baby girl finally made her appearance. She was so stubborn! The nurses said she was in need of a spanking when she got here. She kept going back further with every push. But she made it and she was beautiful. Born at 4:29pm.
My doctor let me hold her while she worked on removing the afterbirth. I asked her if everything was okay and she smiled and assured me it was okay. She said she would just give it a little time. A half hour later though, she told me we would need to do a DNC to remove it as the placenta was just breaking apart.
The family was let in, along with my other two babies (who we sent on to school that day and were anxiously awaiting her arrival). I was shaking so badly everyone asked if I was cold. Strangely, I didn't feel cold but I shook like it. My nurse, (who was freaking awesome by the way) told us it was called Labor Shakes. As soon as the placenta was out it should stop. I finally had to ask one nurse to take my baby because I was terrified I was going to hurt her as bad as I was shaking. She took her and had my oldest daughter participate in bathing her for the first time. She was so patient with my oldest, explaining everything to her and answering all her questions.
During this time, the doctor had me sign my second form for a possible blood transfusion. They had me sign one with my original paperwork when I first got there, but now I had to sign one again, along with the forms for the DNC. It was also explained to me that in worse case scenario, I would have to have a hysterectomy. I had to sign forms for that as well. I'd love to see those papers now and compare my signature to my first forms. I was shaking so bad I could hardly hold the ink pen.
I asked my doctor, if it is a DNC, how long will it take. About a half hour.
If you have to do a hysterectomy, how? Will I be cut? How long will the surgery last?
My doctor, (a female thankfully and the best one), smiled and assured me if it was surgery, it would be a bikini cut and would take about an hour. But she really didn't think she would have to do a hysterectomy and was going to see if the surgeon would let me stay awake with the epidural.
Something just didn't set right with me. Call it my subconscious. I told everyone I loved them and wanted out of the room away from my kids fast. I didn't want them to see me as I started to fall apart. I cried the entire ride to the OR and kept my eyes closed. I didn't want to watch the ceiling lights go by above me. I was beginning to feel like I was in one of the episodes of the dramas on tv. Once in the OR, the surgeon told me that he felt more comfortable if he put me under. That way if things went the wrong direction, they wouldn't have to start over.
In the OR, they transferred me to the operating table. I have to say that was one of the strangest and scariest feelings I have ever experienced. I was crying so hard I could hardly breathe. They put the mask on me to put me under and started fighting it off. I felt like I was being smothered. Then I was out.
I woke up in the recovery room some time later. I tried opening my eyes but they didn't want to cooperate. I remember even using my hands to hold my eyes open. I asked the nurse if I had a hysterectomy but she seemed hesitant to answer, so I asked her what time it was. It had been over three hours so I knew what the answer was.
Hysterectomy, at 36. What I would later find to be called Peripartum Hysterectomy.
The information I received over the next 24 hours would be shocking and overwhelming. I'll explain more in my next post.
Amy
It was 12:45am on Monday morning, November 18th. I got up to use the bathroom, laid back down, and felt the urge to go again. By the time I got down the hall, the pad I was wearing (as I had been wearing them for a few days anticipating a water leak) was soaked. C-Bug (my nickname for her), had been playing havoc on my bladder for a few days. A week earlier I was concerned my water was leaking and she was just dancing on the bladder making me pee myself. Fun times.
I went back to my resting spot on the couch and continued to feel the wetness over the course of the following hour. I went up and down the hall to use the bathroom. I walked back and forth through the kitchen trying to figure out if I was truly leaking amniotic fluid or not. Eventually I walked outside and started walking on the porch.
Let me back up a minute here. Earlier in the evening I was so stressed from the stomach flu (see my earlier post), the tests I would go through the upcoming week, and the cheer competition my 8 year old daughter would be in that next weekend. I am also a coach for her cheer squad and have been teaching the competition dance (yes, at 9 months pregnant; I'm an over achiever.) I had been so worried about teaching the girls the remaining part of the dance, making sure they have everything they need, etc, that I was making myself sick. I just really wanted to make it through the competition. I finally realized how silly I was being. I prayed. I asked God to forgive me and finally let it go into his hands. I said, God, if it's your will I know I'll go tonight. I can't worry about cheer leading any longer, it will all work out. May your will be done in my life Lord, take these worries away. I immediately felt better.
Back to walking the porch. I stopped and looked up at the night sky. FULL MOON. All I could do was burst into laughter. Now the question was, do I wake up my husband? How long should I wait. No contractions yet, no bloody show. Was I entering labor?
I laid back down about 2 am, and my husband was waking up. I told him what was going on but I wasn't sure if I was in labor or not. Then, contractions started. Over the next hour I had 5 contractions. The rule was if you have 6 in an hour, call the doctor. So I told my husband to call his dad to come sit with our other two children and we should just go and be checked out. On the way to the hospital, I had two more contractions fairly close. We were fairly sure this was it.
After being checked in and let them examine me, it was confirmed my water had broken. It was 3:35 am. However, the contractions stopped. So we waited, with the option of starting Pitocin whenever I was ready to. I really did not want to be induced with Pitocin, it makes the contractions so painful. Not to mention, I was finally getting my appetite back from having the stomach flu and I was starving. Food was not an option. At some point I did talk them in to letting me have some jello, which was honestly just enough to piss me off. :-) If I would have known how long it was going to be I would have stayed home and had a good meal!!
Phone calls were made but we told everyone not to rush. It looked like this one was not going to be any quicker than the other two deliveries were. (13 hours with my first born, 11 with my second.) It was between 8-9am that my contractions started back. I was approaching 9 hours since my water broke so they really wanted to start the Pitocin. Grudgingly I let them, and requested my epidural within a half hour after that. Thank the Lord the doctor was in the hospital already and I didn't have to wait. I had been forewarned that if he wasn't there, it could be an hour or more.
The nurses complimented me on how I breathed through the contractions, encouraged me that I was doing a good job. The Pitocin was on the slowest drip possible so it was mainly all me with the contractions. By the time the doctor was in there, I was about to break the bed frame. They told me to sit up and lean over the rolling hospital table so they could get the epidural started. It took a few minutes but I finally managed and with the support of my husband, I stayed as still as a statue, even during contractions. My husband, nor the doctor, could believe I could manage to be so still while injecting me with numbing medicine and then the (apparently huge-although I've never seen it) epidural needle. Mind over matter.
Within just a few minutes I was pain free and watching the monitor to see when I was having contractions. They checked my cervix and I was at a 4. A short time later I was checked again and jumped from a 4 to a 6 while they were checking me. In no time I was at an 8. But, just like my other two babies, stayed that way for a while.
Her heart rate would drop some when I had a contraction so they decided to pump me full of fluid by iv and through my cervix. My husband and I talked about how she was doing the exact same thing as our first born. Not enough fluid, umbilical cord getting pinched somehow during contractions. It was identical. We were watched carefully for several hours.
My mom arrived, his mom came over on her lunch break, and his dad was there. Although his dad bolted for the waiting room when my contractions really started and I was in pain (prior to the epidural). About 3pm my mom called his mom to come back over, we were getting close. As I'm laying there listening to the moms and my husband talk, I'm watching her heart rate and contractions on the monitor. For her heart rate, it needed to stay in the blue area of the monitor. There was a pink line above and below showing if it got too high or too low. Finally, the entire heart monitor turned pink. I told the parents to get ready, the nurses and doctors were on their way. (The nurses watched the monitor from their station outside). Sure enough, here comes the whole team.
The bed was dropped and I was checked. The moms were encouraged to head for the door, as my husband and I had always agreed it was just to be the two of us during delivery. His mom begged to stay. At that point I didn't care if the Pope and President was there, it was time for her to come out. But by our wishes it was just my husband and I. It's bad enough for him to see me go through what I did, and I really didn't want anyone else to witness it. I also didn't know how aggressive I would get and the last thing I would want is to hurt some one's feelings.
I was just at a 9, and like my first born, I pushed to get to a 10. I managed to only say one cuss word during the whole ordeal. 50 minutes of pushing later, my teeny tiny, 4 pounds 13.6 ounce baby girl finally made her appearance. She was so stubborn! The nurses said she was in need of a spanking when she got here. She kept going back further with every push. But she made it and she was beautiful. Born at 4:29pm.
My doctor let me hold her while she worked on removing the afterbirth. I asked her if everything was okay and she smiled and assured me it was okay. She said she would just give it a little time. A half hour later though, she told me we would need to do a DNC to remove it as the placenta was just breaking apart.
The family was let in, along with my other two babies (who we sent on to school that day and were anxiously awaiting her arrival). I was shaking so badly everyone asked if I was cold. Strangely, I didn't feel cold but I shook like it. My nurse, (who was freaking awesome by the way) told us it was called Labor Shakes. As soon as the placenta was out it should stop. I finally had to ask one nurse to take my baby because I was terrified I was going to hurt her as bad as I was shaking. She took her and had my oldest daughter participate in bathing her for the first time. She was so patient with my oldest, explaining everything to her and answering all her questions.
During this time, the doctor had me sign my second form for a possible blood transfusion. They had me sign one with my original paperwork when I first got there, but now I had to sign one again, along with the forms for the DNC. It was also explained to me that in worse case scenario, I would have to have a hysterectomy. I had to sign forms for that as well. I'd love to see those papers now and compare my signature to my first forms. I was shaking so bad I could hardly hold the ink pen.
I asked my doctor, if it is a DNC, how long will it take. About a half hour.
If you have to do a hysterectomy, how? Will I be cut? How long will the surgery last?
My doctor, (a female thankfully and the best one), smiled and assured me if it was surgery, it would be a bikini cut and would take about an hour. But she really didn't think she would have to do a hysterectomy and was going to see if the surgeon would let me stay awake with the epidural.
Something just didn't set right with me. Call it my subconscious. I told everyone I loved them and wanted out of the room away from my kids fast. I didn't want them to see me as I started to fall apart. I cried the entire ride to the OR and kept my eyes closed. I didn't want to watch the ceiling lights go by above me. I was beginning to feel like I was in one of the episodes of the dramas on tv. Once in the OR, the surgeon told me that he felt more comfortable if he put me under. That way if things went the wrong direction, they wouldn't have to start over.
In the OR, they transferred me to the operating table. I have to say that was one of the strangest and scariest feelings I have ever experienced. I was crying so hard I could hardly breathe. They put the mask on me to put me under and started fighting it off. I felt like I was being smothered. Then I was out.
I woke up in the recovery room some time later. I tried opening my eyes but they didn't want to cooperate. I remember even using my hands to hold my eyes open. I asked the nurse if I had a hysterectomy but she seemed hesitant to answer, so I asked her what time it was. It had been over three hours so I knew what the answer was.
Hysterectomy, at 36. What I would later find to be called Peripartum Hysterectomy.
The information I received over the next 24 hours would be shocking and overwhelming. I'll explain more in my next post.
Amy
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