When I came home from the hospital over a year and a half ago I was incredibly lucky to have my mom with me for an entire month. Which gave me an entire month to recover and not have to worry about the cooking and the cleaning, etc. Well, once my mom left my hubby took charge. He wanted to do everything and wanted to baby me as much (if not more) than my mom had already done. Unfortunately this was after 3.5 years of having been the "baby," in at least 3.5 years my husband had not picked up a broom, a duster, had to do laundry, or cooked for anyone (not that he did much cooking before we got married). So his man mentality of cooking (grab meat, add salt and char) was not going to work in this particular circumstance. He decided that he could cook while being coached, unfortunately he and I have different perspectives as to what exactly a tablespoon is (his being getting the largest spoon in the drawer and loading it up with whatever it was you were supposed to add) so his food was well...less than perfect.
Because we are banking on our family not requiring to be here as long this time and he wants to give me the same time to recover we've decided I'm going to teach him to cook this time! And so every time I cook now, he's there to observe. Next week he will take the cooking wheel (of sorts)! It is my assessment that he is well enough prepared to start cooking for us once a week in order to condition his culinary skills for when we'll have to rely on them. So each week I'll report to you on his progress and his take on it all (since he's too lazy to do it himself LOL).
Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers
Lilypie Second Birthday tickers
Monday, August 3, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
What does it take, part 3
December 5, 2007...
December 5th was a bittersweet day for me. In a small span of 2.5 days I have managed to not only survive congestive heart failure but get out of ICU and if I could convince my doctors that I was stable enough I would get of the hospital all together-which didn't mean freedom but it would be close enough for now. At 7:30 am the blood pressure lady came in and took my vitals, then the nurses came in with my cocktail of meds (I was at the time taking 14 different pills). I asked the nurse what it would take for them to let me go she said that I had to have a valve movement so that the OB would release me, I would have to walk and go up a series of steps so that the physical therapist would release me, I would have to show a steady trend of blood pressure, (water) weight loss, heart rhythm and emotional stability (meaning show I wasn't suicidal or anything) for the cardiologist (who at this point was the big cheese amongst my doctors) would let me go. And so I went to work on what I could. By this time I could walk just fine, I would get tired but I tried not to show it and the physical therapist (who had visited me twice the previous day) had told me we would try some steps that day so I was excited to show how strong I was (I hoped I was anyways). I knew that all my heart related stats had been steady for at least the past 24 hours. I knew I wasn't suicidal, I was sad of course but not suicidal...who would go through all that work of avoiding death to do themselves in? Not me! So that left one task at hand...I had to have a vowel movement.
Since I had decided to get off medications my nurses kept asking me if I was in pain. I now have come to the conclusion that I didn't feel any pain because I was in a state of shock. However shock or not I was conscious enough to understand how big the c-section cut was, as very kindly demonstrated by every new nurse I met that would show me by spreading their hands about a foot apart and saying "it's this big you know!" so the thought of having to make any effort whatsoever to push anything out of my body was not a pretty thought for sure. I kept picturing my gash opening and my uterus plopping on the bathroom floor...I'm sure this did not help my restroom going efforts. On top of that I had the worst case of gas EVER! If you've ever had a c-section you know exactly what I'm talking about. In short, it was torture. It's definitely one thing I am not looking forward to! (Hmmm I wonder if they let you take beano before surgery?)
As the morning went on our family trailed in after breakfast, making sure I had eaten or not (which I honestly couldn't tell you if I did...I do remember the food tasting like cardboard tho!). I found out my beloved aunt (who's like another mom to me) had arrived the previous night. The nurses started threatening me with stool softeners which made me cringe at the thought. A nutritionist came to talk to me about my new low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol diet and the 2 liter liquid restriction I would go home on...2 liters of liquid in food, drinks, ice, everything! That's nothing to a big water drinker like me! The only things I really needed to become familiar with was the low sodium concept and the liquid restriction. Because I've had tendencies of high cholesterol all my life I've always been very careful about my diet. Shortly after lunch I took one of my many trips to the restroom (I was on diuretics so I still peed like I was 9 months pregnant) and the heavens opened up and I finally had the very needed vowel movement. The entire room rejoiced at the news. My best friend and husband who were the two angels that would help me to and from the restroom busted out of the restroom and began telling EVERY family member available that I had pooped...yay??? The nurses came in shortly after to celebrate with the family because that meant that I had met (or was expected to meet) all the criteria to be released!
As soon as the doctors found out I was ready to go home, the therapist showed up and took me for a walk. It was the last walk I would take down those halls (I hoped!). As I pushed the walker up and down the hall I noticed a nurse had that deer in headlights look, which made me look around to see what was wrong, immediately my mom and my aunt jumped in front of me like I was Britney Spears and they were my body guard, the whole rest of my family almost instantly took one unison breathe, and then I saw it, there was a new mom pushing her little pink bundle down the hall. I didn't know what to do. I was angry because I didn't have my pink bundle, but I was more angry that everyone I knew and loved thought I was too weak to handle seeing that. I noticed my therapists and nurses looked like they thought I was going to fall and then realized that I was sobbing hysterically. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and hurt. I know I wouldn't have reacted that way to that event if it would have just my and the therapists but because my family made such a grandstand of it all, it was almost like they were highlighting the event. Like they had put a very bright and annoying spotlight on the little bassinet. Once I noticed I was sobbing I gathered myself straightened up and told my best friend to get my family out of there, except for my husband. She did as I asked and sent them all out to the family waiting room. My mom of course didn't want to go she wanted to hold me and let me cry but I was ready to get out of there and didn't want to have to live thru this again so I sent her with the rest of the clan. I checked my posture and looked at my therapist and told him to continue. He told me that I didn't have to keep walking that we could just go back to the room I told him I didn't want to be there anymore and I needed him to release me so I could go home so I wanted to keep going. We continued for a few more steps and then he told me that he thought I was ready to go home that I just needed to take it easy and walk 5 minutes a day for the next week and then increase the time by 3-5 minutes a week depending on how I felt. And then I went back to my room, took a shower and got myself ready to face my family and convince the rest of my doctors to let me go home. I don't remember much about that early afternoon other that I knew there was a line of doctors at my door waiting to see me and have me sign the paperwork they needed for me to sign so I could be released, I remember having appointments set up and I remember my nurse explaining all the medications to my best friend and my husband. I remember saying goodbye to my mother in law and my sisters in law. And thanking them for helping J with all the house "cleaning." I remember my mom and my aunt scurrying around the room making sure I wouldn't leave anything and then it was time to go. My husband ran ahead to get the car, my mom, my aunt and my bff's mom fussing over all the stuff we had to take, my best friend being by my side and the nurse pushing my wheelchair out while all the nurses and staff kept telling me how amazed they were at my impossibly fast recovery. I remember when I got to the door there was an older lady with a cart full of baby-related congratulatory flowers, balloons, etc and my mom desperately trying to get my attention and me pretending like I didn't see it. I remember my husband nervously running around the car to open up the trunk and then to the side to meet me by the door. But what I remember most is having to hold back tears because I wasn't supposed to leave that hospital without my daughter. I remember glancing back at the spot where her carseat had been and my eyes burning with tears and then never wanting to look back. Once I was seated in the car with my seatbelt on my best friend came up to me gave me a big hug and told me she'd be in the car right behind me.
I remember looking at the frosty roads and wondering when it had snowed and then vaguely remembering my sisters being very excited about it. The trip home seemed very quick and surreal. My mom kept asking me if I was ok and I just kept nodding. She asked me what I wanted for lunch and I told her whatever. She asked if albondigas (mexican meatballs) sounded good and I told her that sounded delicious. She got all excited about me using a word other than yeah or whatever that she asked J to stop and the store for supplies and him calling my best friend and she volunteering to go instead. I recall there being a lot more steps to get to my apartment than I thought there were and having to take a small break half way up. My neighbors peeked out but didn't come out when they saw us return without a carseat in tow. I remember standing in my doorway and my house feeling unfamiliar. There had been a warmth before and now it was just cold and much more clean than I remember it. I sat in the couch and waited for my mom to cook dinner, I received more flowers this time from my loving internet friends and from one of J's aunts. I was sorting through mail and found more condolence cards. My husband began to show me all the equipment he had bought to make me feel more comfortable: a shower chair (which made me feel like an old person), a cute little duckie bath mat so I wouldn't slip (ok I'll admit it I'm incredibly clumsy so this was very needed), and an exercise step. I was utterly confused about the step then my hubby explained that he didn't think it safe to do my usual hop onto my bed (I'm only 5'1/2" so my bed was high for me) so he got me a step so I could safely sit on my bed instead. Quick side note, when we moved we got a new bed and my hubs insisted on a platform bed so I won't have to use the step next time...I know he's too wonderful! :) And so after dinner, I sat and chatted with my BFF and her mom for a while then I went to bed.
That night my husband and I felt drained. I remember telling him I didn't think I had any more tears. And we wondered how long it would take for my mom to go home. I told him not to hold his breathe and we both laughed it off. Overall I was happy to be back in our bed were we could sleep in each other's arms. However my hubby had a different plan. After I convinced him that it was not necessary for him to sleep on the floor so I could have the entire bed he decided to create a pillow barrier between us so he could not kick my belly. Poor guy must have gotten horrible sleep that night!
Those three days (or so I'm told they were three) seem like a giant blur now. I can guarantee you that the events are not in order and that I'm missing tons of stuff. But when you are in that situation it's almost like you are a stranger in your own body. Not only because you look like a popped Macy's Thanksgiving Parade balloon but because part of you doesn't want to exist anymore. They are the days I remember in chunks and even my husband doesn't remember very well. As a matter in fact it wasn't until I got the receipt from the hospital bill in the mail that I realized it had only been 3 days that I had spent in the hospital. To me they felt like a week and a half!
The two weeks following my hospital stay were a numb little routine filled with walking around the apartment, being fed my mom's delicious food, watching TV and receiving flowers and cards from my loved ones. My family came and went but my mom was the one constant visitor. The day after my best friend left my mom got to experience an Oklahoma ice storm that split the giant tree behind our apartment. She wanted to go play in the ice so badly but didn't want to burden my hubby with "two broken women" as she would put it. My hubby kept tabs on the funeral home to see when we would get our daughter back and I preoccupied myself with ordering my baby sister's Christmas gift since they were going to come for a visit for Christmas. Other than the occasional distraction I just existed.
to be continued...
December 5th was a bittersweet day for me. In a small span of 2.5 days I have managed to not only survive congestive heart failure but get out of ICU and if I could convince my doctors that I was stable enough I would get of the hospital all together-which didn't mean freedom but it would be close enough for now. At 7:30 am the blood pressure lady came in and took my vitals, then the nurses came in with my cocktail of meds (I was at the time taking 14 different pills). I asked the nurse what it would take for them to let me go she said that I had to have a valve movement so that the OB would release me, I would have to walk and go up a series of steps so that the physical therapist would release me, I would have to show a steady trend of blood pressure, (water) weight loss, heart rhythm and emotional stability (meaning show I wasn't suicidal or anything) for the cardiologist (who at this point was the big cheese amongst my doctors) would let me go. And so I went to work on what I could. By this time I could walk just fine, I would get tired but I tried not to show it and the physical therapist (who had visited me twice the previous day) had told me we would try some steps that day so I was excited to show how strong I was (I hoped I was anyways). I knew that all my heart related stats had been steady for at least the past 24 hours. I knew I wasn't suicidal, I was sad of course but not suicidal...who would go through all that work of avoiding death to do themselves in? Not me! So that left one task at hand...I had to have a vowel movement.
Since I had decided to get off medications my nurses kept asking me if I was in pain. I now have come to the conclusion that I didn't feel any pain because I was in a state of shock. However shock or not I was conscious enough to understand how big the c-section cut was, as very kindly demonstrated by every new nurse I met that would show me by spreading their hands about a foot apart and saying "it's this big you know!" so the thought of having to make any effort whatsoever to push anything out of my body was not a pretty thought for sure. I kept picturing my gash opening and my uterus plopping on the bathroom floor...I'm sure this did not help my restroom going efforts. On top of that I had the worst case of gas EVER! If you've ever had a c-section you know exactly what I'm talking about. In short, it was torture. It's definitely one thing I am not looking forward to! (Hmmm I wonder if they let you take beano before surgery?)
As the morning went on our family trailed in after breakfast, making sure I had eaten or not (which I honestly couldn't tell you if I did...I do remember the food tasting like cardboard tho!). I found out my beloved aunt (who's like another mom to me) had arrived the previous night. The nurses started threatening me with stool softeners which made me cringe at the thought. A nutritionist came to talk to me about my new low sodium, low fat, low cholesterol diet and the 2 liter liquid restriction I would go home on...2 liters of liquid in food, drinks, ice, everything! That's nothing to a big water drinker like me! The only things I really needed to become familiar with was the low sodium concept and the liquid restriction. Because I've had tendencies of high cholesterol all my life I've always been very careful about my diet. Shortly after lunch I took one of my many trips to the restroom (I was on diuretics so I still peed like I was 9 months pregnant) and the heavens opened up and I finally had the very needed vowel movement. The entire room rejoiced at the news. My best friend and husband who were the two angels that would help me to and from the restroom busted out of the restroom and began telling EVERY family member available that I had pooped...yay??? The nurses came in shortly after to celebrate with the family because that meant that I had met (or was expected to meet) all the criteria to be released!
As soon as the doctors found out I was ready to go home, the therapist showed up and took me for a walk. It was the last walk I would take down those halls (I hoped!). As I pushed the walker up and down the hall I noticed a nurse had that deer in headlights look, which made me look around to see what was wrong, immediately my mom and my aunt jumped in front of me like I was Britney Spears and they were my body guard, the whole rest of my family almost instantly took one unison breathe, and then I saw it, there was a new mom pushing her little pink bundle down the hall. I didn't know what to do. I was angry because I didn't have my pink bundle, but I was more angry that everyone I knew and loved thought I was too weak to handle seeing that. I noticed my therapists and nurses looked like they thought I was going to fall and then realized that I was sobbing hysterically. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and hurt. I know I wouldn't have reacted that way to that event if it would have just my and the therapists but because my family made such a grandstand of it all, it was almost like they were highlighting the event. Like they had put a very bright and annoying spotlight on the little bassinet. Once I noticed I was sobbing I gathered myself straightened up and told my best friend to get my family out of there, except for my husband. She did as I asked and sent them all out to the family waiting room. My mom of course didn't want to go she wanted to hold me and let me cry but I was ready to get out of there and didn't want to have to live thru this again so I sent her with the rest of the clan. I checked my posture and looked at my therapist and told him to continue. He told me that I didn't have to keep walking that we could just go back to the room I told him I didn't want to be there anymore and I needed him to release me so I could go home so I wanted to keep going. We continued for a few more steps and then he told me that he thought I was ready to go home that I just needed to take it easy and walk 5 minutes a day for the next week and then increase the time by 3-5 minutes a week depending on how I felt. And then I went back to my room, took a shower and got myself ready to face my family and convince the rest of my doctors to let me go home. I don't remember much about that early afternoon other that I knew there was a line of doctors at my door waiting to see me and have me sign the paperwork they needed for me to sign so I could be released, I remember having appointments set up and I remember my nurse explaining all the medications to my best friend and my husband. I remember saying goodbye to my mother in law and my sisters in law. And thanking them for helping J with all the house "cleaning." I remember my mom and my aunt scurrying around the room making sure I wouldn't leave anything and then it was time to go. My husband ran ahead to get the car, my mom, my aunt and my bff's mom fussing over all the stuff we had to take, my best friend being by my side and the nurse pushing my wheelchair out while all the nurses and staff kept telling me how amazed they were at my impossibly fast recovery. I remember when I got to the door there was an older lady with a cart full of baby-related congratulatory flowers, balloons, etc and my mom desperately trying to get my attention and me pretending like I didn't see it. I remember my husband nervously running around the car to open up the trunk and then to the side to meet me by the door. But what I remember most is having to hold back tears because I wasn't supposed to leave that hospital without my daughter. I remember glancing back at the spot where her carseat had been and my eyes burning with tears and then never wanting to look back. Once I was seated in the car with my seatbelt on my best friend came up to me gave me a big hug and told me she'd be in the car right behind me.
I remember looking at the frosty roads and wondering when it had snowed and then vaguely remembering my sisters being very excited about it. The trip home seemed very quick and surreal. My mom kept asking me if I was ok and I just kept nodding. She asked me what I wanted for lunch and I told her whatever. She asked if albondigas (mexican meatballs) sounded good and I told her that sounded delicious. She got all excited about me using a word other than yeah or whatever that she asked J to stop and the store for supplies and him calling my best friend and she volunteering to go instead. I recall there being a lot more steps to get to my apartment than I thought there were and having to take a small break half way up. My neighbors peeked out but didn't come out when they saw us return without a carseat in tow. I remember standing in my doorway and my house feeling unfamiliar. There had been a warmth before and now it was just cold and much more clean than I remember it. I sat in the couch and waited for my mom to cook dinner, I received more flowers this time from my loving internet friends and from one of J's aunts. I was sorting through mail and found more condolence cards. My husband began to show me all the equipment he had bought to make me feel more comfortable: a shower chair (which made me feel like an old person), a cute little duckie bath mat so I wouldn't slip (ok I'll admit it I'm incredibly clumsy so this was very needed), and an exercise step. I was utterly confused about the step then my hubby explained that he didn't think it safe to do my usual hop onto my bed (I'm only 5'1/2" so my bed was high for me) so he got me a step so I could safely sit on my bed instead. Quick side note, when we moved we got a new bed and my hubs insisted on a platform bed so I won't have to use the step next time...I know he's too wonderful! :) And so after dinner, I sat and chatted with my BFF and her mom for a while then I went to bed.
That night my husband and I felt drained. I remember telling him I didn't think I had any more tears. And we wondered how long it would take for my mom to go home. I told him not to hold his breathe and we both laughed it off. Overall I was happy to be back in our bed were we could sleep in each other's arms. However my hubby had a different plan. After I convinced him that it was not necessary for him to sleep on the floor so I could have the entire bed he decided to create a pillow barrier between us so he could not kick my belly. Poor guy must have gotten horrible sleep that night!
Those three days (or so I'm told they were three) seem like a giant blur now. I can guarantee you that the events are not in order and that I'm missing tons of stuff. But when you are in that situation it's almost like you are a stranger in your own body. Not only because you look like a popped Macy's Thanksgiving Parade balloon but because part of you doesn't want to exist anymore. They are the days I remember in chunks and even my husband doesn't remember very well. As a matter in fact it wasn't until I got the receipt from the hospital bill in the mail that I realized it had only been 3 days that I had spent in the hospital. To me they felt like a week and a half!
The two weeks following my hospital stay were a numb little routine filled with walking around the apartment, being fed my mom's delicious food, watching TV and receiving flowers and cards from my loved ones. My family came and went but my mom was the one constant visitor. The day after my best friend left my mom got to experience an Oklahoma ice storm that split the giant tree behind our apartment. She wanted to go play in the ice so badly but didn't want to burden my hubby with "two broken women" as she would put it. My hubby kept tabs on the funeral home to see when we would get our daughter back and I preoccupied myself with ordering my baby sister's Christmas gift since they were going to come for a visit for Christmas. Other than the occasional distraction I just existed.
to be continued...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Heads up!
Just so you readers know...the first few posts are real downers they are all about the first few days in the hospital and me dealing with my daughter's loss...but it gets happier, I promise :). Like with life we must first get through the rough parts in life to appreciate the beauty and happiness that life has to offer. So hang in there!
What does it take...part 2
December 4, 2007
After a long night of constant interruption and multiple IV changes (my veins were D-O-N-E) I woke up feeling much better than the previous day, for starters I didn't have a tube stuck down my throat, I was able to talk and I could sit up...YAY! However, my arms were killing me! I hadn't noticed until then that my poor little arms were four times their normal size and nowhere near their normal color. They were a mix of black and purple with little bits of blue here and there and it hurt to look at them much less move or touch them. But I figured that was the last of my worries just now. My mom had spent all night next to my bed on a little recliner chair,much to my hubby's protest he was sent to his mom's hotel room to get some sleep. It was 5:30am and everything was quiet, my mom was passed out and I was left there to reflect on what had happened and why I was there. I blamed myself naturally (what mother doesn't!) but now I know that I was wrong then. Life has ups and downs and the lower the downs the higher the ups will feel...or so has been my experience. Not wanting to wallow in self pity I decided my time was better spent sleeping my body ached and it needed rest.
A couple of hours later I heard my mom talking with one of the nurses and I also heard the one voice that I would bother to wake up for...my hubs. He looked better than the previous day but his face was still puffy, which told me two things 1.-he had spent time alone, because that's the only way he ever cries and 2.-he hadn't gotten as much sleep as I wished he had. He had a perma-frown on his face that I had not seen since my brother had passed of cancer five years earlier. He wasn't my happy care-free hubby that I knew and loved. A funny thing happened when he saw me tho, his eyes immediately came alive and a strained smile touched his face. You know one of those smiles that are meant to tell you "I'm ok" but you know isn't genuine because it doesn't touch the person's eyes? He approached my bed and gave me a kiss that said "thank God you're still alive!" I don't know what he'd pictured he'd come back to but he seemed relieved so that was good. I asked the nurse when they would take me out of ICU and he laughed and said to not get my hopes up, the entire hospital thought that I was a goner...fun! He told me that I would be evaluated by a physical therapist that day and that I would also get a visit from an occupational therapist. Up to this point I had no idea what the difference between the two was. While we waited for the PT and OTs to show up my mom left to shower to my mother-in-law's room (the hospital had a hotel so they stayed there), my dad and father in law got ready to go back home before the ice storm hit, and my hubby kept me company and updated me on all the people he had talked to. I found out my best friend was on her way to see me. My best friend was at the time a post trauma ICU nurse (now she does just trauma) so as soon as she heard the words "heart failure," "intubated," and "ICU" (from what she tells me that's all she heard) she hoped on a plane to San Antonio (home), picked her mom up and drove to Oklahoma (some 8 hours). Am I loved or what?!? ;D
When the physical therapist got there he asked me how I was feeling, I told him that I felt like I got hit by a bus other than that just fine :) then he told me that they wouldn't let me out of the ICU until they could see that I was strong enough to stand to which I replied "heck, let's do laps!" He chuckled and told me we would try walking 3 feet to the recliner first so that the nurses could make my bed. Then he told me I had to walk very carefully because I had a rather large c-section cut to take care of (gulp!) and I had a catheter in(double gulp!!...hmmm no wonder I hadn't had to use the restroom!). So carefully, I got up...mostly by myself and with a walker I walked to the recliner and sat down. At that point the occupational therapists asked me if I would like to wash my face and brush my teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I did that and I immediately though "OMG!!! What do I look like!" so I told her yes please and she went and got me cool water to rinse my mouth with and warm water to wash my face. My hubby got me a brush from my overnight bag and I brushed my too tangled hair and one of my sister in laws gave me a lipgloss she had bought me...God bless her!!! Once I felt ten times prettier than I had been feeling I got up (by myself this time) and walked over to the bed, I didn't want to lay down but I could feel my body weakening and was relieved when they told me I had to lay back down.
Once the therapists left my cardiologists nurse practitioner came in to introduce herself and see how I was doing and I thanked God that I had just gotten pretty because this was my chance to bust out of ICU! So I told her I felt great with a fake smile plastered on my face and told her that I really wanted to get out of ICU and into a normal room I didn't care if I went to the post-partum unit or the cardiology unit I just wanted out of the too much beeping, never sleeping, not in anyway private ICU. She said that she would consult my OB and cardiologist and let the nurses know if they can put me elsewhere as soon as she could to which I insisted..."today...please!"
And so I was left there waiting for someone to bust me out of ICU. Meanwhile my mother in law asked if she could go to my house to "clean up" (translation, clear out everything that is baby related and lock it in a room where I won't have to face it when I came home...if I came home) I told her that she would have to take my husband and I didn't feel comfortable with him leaving until I was out of ICU so then she asked what I needed from the store because she needed to make herself useful somehow so I told her I needed really tight sport bras from my swelling boobs, lipgloss, hair ties, and food for my hubs. She left happy that she had a task and I was left to wait. Luckily I didn't have to wait too long. Shortly after the nurse came in to tell me I would be moving to the post-partum surgical unit in a couple of hours. Just as my mother in law and sisters came back the ICU nurses came in to say goodbye and to transfer me to my new home. They kept telling me how when I came in they were sure that I would be there for weeks and here I was a little over 24 hours later leaving their unit to which I replied "it's cause I'm cool like that" the truth was and is that it was a miracle that I was even there much less leaving ICU after 24 hours of having arrived there. They told me that as soon as I got to my new room the nurses would introduce themselves and I would get lunch. I can't honestly say that the thought of sharing a wing with a whole bunch of women that were happy and healthy playing with their brand new babies was a welcome thought but it was a better alternative than sharing a wing with a whole bunch of people that were near death. The trip to the new room was filled with anxiety for me because it kept reminding me of the last time I had been rolled somewhere and it was shocking to feel my lungs working the way they are meant to be this time, not feeling like I was going to drown (or barf) right there and then and just being able to feel. The first time I had been rolled somewhere was when I was being transferred to the operating room and I just remember the rooms flying past me and me feeling like I was still within chaos and being unable to understand that everything that was going on was real. And here I was a day and half later completely aware of everything that was going on around me...a little too aware.
The post-partum unit was no picnic for anyone in my family but then again I didn't expect it to be. Just as we were getting settled in my hubby got a phone call from my best friend saying that she was there and asking for directions to the hospital. After a few minutes she came flying in the room with mom (hers not mine). She gave me a quick hug and launched straight into nurse mode. She grabbed my chart and headed for the nurses station. After 20 minutes or so she came back in and briefed us on what exactly happened. Well it was her lucky day because she arrived just in time to talk to all my doctors. This was the first day that I actually remember seeing my OB after everything happened and through sobs she explained to me that I had (magically) gotten a "sudden" onset of preeclamsia which might have been what triggered the heart failure and that my official diagnosis was of peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM) and that she was REALLY sorry for our loss...this wasn't the first time or the last time I would hear this from her. To be honest, by this time a strange and comforting numbness had set in and I would not and could not cry in front of my family. So as my OB sobbed and apologized I just stared blankly at her and couldn't bring myself to ask questions.
After all the doctors came and went one of my sister in laws asked if there was any way that they could see my daughter. Then I suddenly realized that I hadn't gotten to see her and understand what I was seeing because last time we met I had been on a skyscraper high that would make most potheads jealous. So I asked the nurse to bring us my daughter and asked my mother in law to bring me my daughter when they were done with her. My mom protested because she thought it would be too painful to see my daughter at which point she met hormones Martha (she's not nice) the thought that seeing my daughter would in any way hurt me I still don't understand. She was the perfect being as far as I'm concerned. So after some firm talking I got my wish and got to see my baby again.
Michelle was the perfect combination of the one person I love the most in my life (other than my child) and me...how could she not be perfect! She was exactly the opposite of what I pictured. She had my hubby's itty bitty eyes and one eyebrow (eek!), she had a perfect little head with tons of little dark curls, little elven ears with no earlobes just like her daddy, a little round nose and a complete lack of lips just like me. She had long, "alien" fingers and toes that were too long just like my brothers...how did they get their genes into my daughter? I thought. Because she had been dead for a while in utero her skin had little lacerations that I knew didn't hurt her but I couldn't help but wonder if she suffered and sent a little prayer that she didn't up to God. Other than the lacerations she looked like she was sleeping until you touched her cold little body. This time she had the cutest little dress on and a little hat that was too small for her Garza (my side) head but it was all the better because her little curls peaked out of the cap.
While everyone spent time with my Michelle in another room I sat on my bed with my best friend on one side and my husband on the other and together for the first time since our entire clan had arrived we cried. It was impossible to justify such a wanted child having been gone before everyone got to enjoy the feisty personality that my husband and I already knew and loved. And yet here we were Michelle-less.
That evening was tough. My husband had to leave with his mom and sisters to "clean out" the apartment and remove the car seat we had just put in the car a couple of days before.
While he was gone flowers and cards flooded my hospital room from his coworkers and family. I convinced the nurse to take out my IV and promised to take ANYTHING I had to take. She cleared it with my doctors and removed it and also removed my catheter. OK, so if you've never had a cath...um scary!!! But not very painful, I just kept thinking "what if I pee myself as soon as she pulls it out?!?" she assured me that I wouldn't pee myself (much) and that if I did there was a pad under me...yeah that made me feel better (sarcasm is a hard thing to project in text). My best friend promised to stay by my side through it and couldn't help but laugh at me during the removal which caused me to laugh for the first time in what felt like years! Then my best friend suggested I take a shower and that she would help me (she was still in nurse mode afterall!) so we asked for a new gown and told them that I would be taking off my heart monitor for a little while. And I took the best shower I have ever had! Or maybe it was the most needed, either way I came out of that shower feeling like another person and feeling incredibly grateful that I have such a wonderful person as my BFF that she would fly to the middle of nowhere just to take care of me.
When J (my hubs) came back the hospital's social worker came in to talk about the arrangements we needed to make for our daughter. We decided that we would not be able to survive any sort of service so we opted for the priest to bless her one more time before she went off to the funeral home to get cremated. Because someone had suggested it, my husband had already talked to a funeral home and had the information to give the social worker. We gave her all the information that she needed for Michelle's stillbirth certificate (or whatever they call it) and she told us what to expect once we were released from the hospital.
Then my husband and I were left to rest and grieve on our own. We discussed what kind of urn we wanted for Michelle and gossiped about how much our family was already getting on our nerves lol. We laid there for what seemed like hours holding each other and crying stopping only for the lady that had to take my weight and blood pressure several times during the night. Finally we decided that it was time to go to sleep. My husband was going to sleep on this sofa turned cot that he pushed right up to my bed so we could hold hands while we slept and we let our exhaustion take over us until we'd be awaken by the blood pressure lady (as we called her). The following day I would work on busting out of the hospital for good.
to be continued....
After a long night of constant interruption and multiple IV changes (my veins were D-O-N-E) I woke up feeling much better than the previous day, for starters I didn't have a tube stuck down my throat, I was able to talk and I could sit up...YAY! However, my arms were killing me! I hadn't noticed until then that my poor little arms were four times their normal size and nowhere near their normal color. They were a mix of black and purple with little bits of blue here and there and it hurt to look at them much less move or touch them. But I figured that was the last of my worries just now. My mom had spent all night next to my bed on a little recliner chair,much to my hubby's protest he was sent to his mom's hotel room to get some sleep. It was 5:30am and everything was quiet, my mom was passed out and I was left there to reflect on what had happened and why I was there. I blamed myself naturally (what mother doesn't!) but now I know that I was wrong then. Life has ups and downs and the lower the downs the higher the ups will feel...or so has been my experience. Not wanting to wallow in self pity I decided my time was better spent sleeping my body ached and it needed rest.
A couple of hours later I heard my mom talking with one of the nurses and I also heard the one voice that I would bother to wake up for...my hubs. He looked better than the previous day but his face was still puffy, which told me two things 1.-he had spent time alone, because that's the only way he ever cries and 2.-he hadn't gotten as much sleep as I wished he had. He had a perma-frown on his face that I had not seen since my brother had passed of cancer five years earlier. He wasn't my happy care-free hubby that I knew and loved. A funny thing happened when he saw me tho, his eyes immediately came alive and a strained smile touched his face. You know one of those smiles that are meant to tell you "I'm ok" but you know isn't genuine because it doesn't touch the person's eyes? He approached my bed and gave me a kiss that said "thank God you're still alive!" I don't know what he'd pictured he'd come back to but he seemed relieved so that was good. I asked the nurse when they would take me out of ICU and he laughed and said to not get my hopes up, the entire hospital thought that I was a goner...fun! He told me that I would be evaluated by a physical therapist that day and that I would also get a visit from an occupational therapist. Up to this point I had no idea what the difference between the two was. While we waited for the PT and OTs to show up my mom left to shower to my mother-in-law's room (the hospital had a hotel so they stayed there), my dad and father in law got ready to go back home before the ice storm hit, and my hubby kept me company and updated me on all the people he had talked to. I found out my best friend was on her way to see me. My best friend was at the time a post trauma ICU nurse (now she does just trauma) so as soon as she heard the words "heart failure," "intubated," and "ICU" (from what she tells me that's all she heard) she hoped on a plane to San Antonio (home), picked her mom up and drove to Oklahoma (some 8 hours). Am I loved or what?!? ;D
When the physical therapist got there he asked me how I was feeling, I told him that I felt like I got hit by a bus other than that just fine :) then he told me that they wouldn't let me out of the ICU until they could see that I was strong enough to stand to which I replied "heck, let's do laps!" He chuckled and told me we would try walking 3 feet to the recliner first so that the nurses could make my bed. Then he told me I had to walk very carefully because I had a rather large c-section cut to take care of (gulp!) and I had a catheter in(double gulp!!...hmmm no wonder I hadn't had to use the restroom!). So carefully, I got up...mostly by myself and with a walker I walked to the recliner and sat down. At that point the occupational therapists asked me if I would like to wash my face and brush my teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I did that and I immediately though "OMG!!! What do I look like!" so I told her yes please and she went and got me cool water to rinse my mouth with and warm water to wash my face. My hubby got me a brush from my overnight bag and I brushed my too tangled hair and one of my sister in laws gave me a lipgloss she had bought me...God bless her!!! Once I felt ten times prettier than I had been feeling I got up (by myself this time) and walked over to the bed, I didn't want to lay down but I could feel my body weakening and was relieved when they told me I had to lay back down.
Once the therapists left my cardiologists nurse practitioner came in to introduce herself and see how I was doing and I thanked God that I had just gotten pretty because this was my chance to bust out of ICU! So I told her I felt great with a fake smile plastered on my face and told her that I really wanted to get out of ICU and into a normal room I didn't care if I went to the post-partum unit or the cardiology unit I just wanted out of the too much beeping, never sleeping, not in anyway private ICU. She said that she would consult my OB and cardiologist and let the nurses know if they can put me elsewhere as soon as she could to which I insisted..."today...please!"
And so I was left there waiting for someone to bust me out of ICU. Meanwhile my mother in law asked if she could go to my house to "clean up" (translation, clear out everything that is baby related and lock it in a room where I won't have to face it when I came home...if I came home) I told her that she would have to take my husband and I didn't feel comfortable with him leaving until I was out of ICU so then she asked what I needed from the store because she needed to make herself useful somehow so I told her I needed really tight sport bras from my swelling boobs, lipgloss, hair ties, and food for my hubs. She left happy that she had a task and I was left to wait. Luckily I didn't have to wait too long. Shortly after the nurse came in to tell me I would be moving to the post-partum surgical unit in a couple of hours. Just as my mother in law and sisters came back the ICU nurses came in to say goodbye and to transfer me to my new home. They kept telling me how when I came in they were sure that I would be there for weeks and here I was a little over 24 hours later leaving their unit to which I replied "it's cause I'm cool like that" the truth was and is that it was a miracle that I was even there much less leaving ICU after 24 hours of having arrived there. They told me that as soon as I got to my new room the nurses would introduce themselves and I would get lunch. I can't honestly say that the thought of sharing a wing with a whole bunch of women that were happy and healthy playing with their brand new babies was a welcome thought but it was a better alternative than sharing a wing with a whole bunch of people that were near death. The trip to the new room was filled with anxiety for me because it kept reminding me of the last time I had been rolled somewhere and it was shocking to feel my lungs working the way they are meant to be this time, not feeling like I was going to drown (or barf) right there and then and just being able to feel. The first time I had been rolled somewhere was when I was being transferred to the operating room and I just remember the rooms flying past me and me feeling like I was still within chaos and being unable to understand that everything that was going on was real. And here I was a day and half later completely aware of everything that was going on around me...a little too aware.
The post-partum unit was no picnic for anyone in my family but then again I didn't expect it to be. Just as we were getting settled in my hubby got a phone call from my best friend saying that she was there and asking for directions to the hospital. After a few minutes she came flying in the room with mom (hers not mine). She gave me a quick hug and launched straight into nurse mode. She grabbed my chart and headed for the nurses station. After 20 minutes or so she came back in and briefed us on what exactly happened. Well it was her lucky day because she arrived just in time to talk to all my doctors. This was the first day that I actually remember seeing my OB after everything happened and through sobs she explained to me that I had (magically) gotten a "sudden" onset of preeclamsia which might have been what triggered the heart failure and that my official diagnosis was of peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM) and that she was REALLY sorry for our loss...this wasn't the first time or the last time I would hear this from her. To be honest, by this time a strange and comforting numbness had set in and I would not and could not cry in front of my family. So as my OB sobbed and apologized I just stared blankly at her and couldn't bring myself to ask questions.
After all the doctors came and went one of my sister in laws asked if there was any way that they could see my daughter. Then I suddenly realized that I hadn't gotten to see her and understand what I was seeing because last time we met I had been on a skyscraper high that would make most potheads jealous. So I asked the nurse to bring us my daughter and asked my mother in law to bring me my daughter when they were done with her. My mom protested because she thought it would be too painful to see my daughter at which point she met hormones Martha (she's not nice) the thought that seeing my daughter would in any way hurt me I still don't understand. She was the perfect being as far as I'm concerned. So after some firm talking I got my wish and got to see my baby again.
Michelle was the perfect combination of the one person I love the most in my life (other than my child) and me...how could she not be perfect! She was exactly the opposite of what I pictured. She had my hubby's itty bitty eyes and one eyebrow (eek!), she had a perfect little head with tons of little dark curls, little elven ears with no earlobes just like her daddy, a little round nose and a complete lack of lips just like me. She had long, "alien" fingers and toes that were too long just like my brothers...how did they get their genes into my daughter? I thought. Because she had been dead for a while in utero her skin had little lacerations that I knew didn't hurt her but I couldn't help but wonder if she suffered and sent a little prayer that she didn't up to God. Other than the lacerations she looked like she was sleeping until you touched her cold little body. This time she had the cutest little dress on and a little hat that was too small for her Garza (my side) head but it was all the better because her little curls peaked out of the cap.
While everyone spent time with my Michelle in another room I sat on my bed with my best friend on one side and my husband on the other and together for the first time since our entire clan had arrived we cried. It was impossible to justify such a wanted child having been gone before everyone got to enjoy the feisty personality that my husband and I already knew and loved. And yet here we were Michelle-less.
That evening was tough. My husband had to leave with his mom and sisters to "clean out" the apartment and remove the car seat we had just put in the car a couple of days before.
While he was gone flowers and cards flooded my hospital room from his coworkers and family. I convinced the nurse to take out my IV and promised to take ANYTHING I had to take. She cleared it with my doctors and removed it and also removed my catheter. OK, so if you've never had a cath...um scary!!! But not very painful, I just kept thinking "what if I pee myself as soon as she pulls it out?!?" she assured me that I wouldn't pee myself (much) and that if I did there was a pad under me...yeah that made me feel better (sarcasm is a hard thing to project in text). My best friend promised to stay by my side through it and couldn't help but laugh at me during the removal which caused me to laugh for the first time in what felt like years! Then my best friend suggested I take a shower and that she would help me (she was still in nurse mode afterall!) so we asked for a new gown and told them that I would be taking off my heart monitor for a little while. And I took the best shower I have ever had! Or maybe it was the most needed, either way I came out of that shower feeling like another person and feeling incredibly grateful that I have such a wonderful person as my BFF that she would fly to the middle of nowhere just to take care of me.
When J (my hubs) came back the hospital's social worker came in to talk about the arrangements we needed to make for our daughter. We decided that we would not be able to survive any sort of service so we opted for the priest to bless her one more time before she went off to the funeral home to get cremated. Because someone had suggested it, my husband had already talked to a funeral home and had the information to give the social worker. We gave her all the information that she needed for Michelle's stillbirth certificate (or whatever they call it) and she told us what to expect once we were released from the hospital.
Then my husband and I were left to rest and grieve on our own. We discussed what kind of urn we wanted for Michelle and gossiped about how much our family was already getting on our nerves lol. We laid there for what seemed like hours holding each other and crying stopping only for the lady that had to take my weight and blood pressure several times during the night. Finally we decided that it was time to go to sleep. My husband was going to sleep on this sofa turned cot that he pushed right up to my bed so we could hold hands while we slept and we let our exhaustion take over us until we'd be awaken by the blood pressure lady (as we called her). The following day I would work on busting out of the hospital for good.
to be continued....
Monday, July 27, 2009
What does it take? Part 1
So what does it take to get the green light from your cardiologist to have another baby after you've had PPCM? Funny you should ask! Well first off I can tell you that it's at least a year long marathon! And yes I'll give you the play by play in a series of posts. It all started a little over year and a half ago for me....
Dec 3, 2007...I woke up in ICU totally tripping on pain meds and with a gross tube down my throat to which I thought "is breathing that essential that I need this gross tube gagging me constantly?" and then I remembered "Oh yeah! No breathing = death" that wasn't fun to get close to so I decided to be a big girl and tough it out, afterall it was better than drowning with fluid filled lungs like I had been what seemed like days before but it actually had been a few hours past. After meeting my beautiful little angel and getting a visit from a priest who I now realized gave me my last rites (yikes!) and blessed my baby's body, and getting visits from several frantic friends, and family...parents....that was fun!...NOT! I began to realize how close to death I had been. But more than that I began to realize my daughter had really died and that was everything that was consuming me. I couldn't talk...that's one of my favorite things to do! Luckily I have a wonderful husband that knows me thru and thru and with one look and a flick of a finger (no not that one! lol) I was able to communicate to him that I needed a way to communicate to everyone...and that I needed to not be tied to my bed! So he convinced the nurses that I would be a good girl and not pull the tube protruding from my mouth and into a very noisy machine and to find me a pen and paper. Well I can tell you from experience that writing when you can't see what you are writing and while under the influence of some very heavy drugs is hard! And no one but your soul mate might be able to understand it because that's what happened to me!
My poor hubs had to deal with the crazy family, and a druged wife to boot! Later on that day I met my series of doctors. Who knew one person could exhaust a hospital of all it's staff? I remember meeting my cardiologist because he's a close talker and when you are under pain meds it's like I was in a bad 80's video with a fish eye lens! I swear he was all up in my face, of course now I know he had to be, he was examining me and evaluating whether there had been any brain damage because of the lack of oxygen I had suffered...well if you ask me you should not evaluate a person's mental capacity when they are not tripping out on all sort of drugs lol. Anyways, then I met the respiratory specialist and his team of torturers that would come in often and shove this suction thingy down my throat (one word...gross!) and of course I got a visit from my every impotent OB that between sobs managed to tell me that she didn't know what happened and that she really didn't mean for my daughter to die---let's backup a bit...
My OB had told a week previous to this that I was over exaggerating my symptoms, that I was not as swollen as I thought (hello? I was dimpling!), that I really could breathe, to not worry about the cough I had (to take robbitusin for it), that my blood pressure was nothing to worry about because I was going to give birth any day now and that I was just anxious because I was a new mom. So she had a little guilt going on there...not to mention having to face our entire family (my mom really did want to whoop some butt LOL).
I managed to communicate to my nurses that I wanted to stop the pain meds. My arms were swollen and black and blue and ached so badly, the last thing I needed was to be burdened with more meds than necessary. They tried to convince me otherwise but I just couldn't handle not having control of myself and I wanted to know what was going on! Which is very hard to do when you're all sorts of drugged up! So I got off my pain meds, and then it was time to convince the respiratory therapists to remove the tube! Which only took a few hours once I was lucid. They saw how strong I was (or was trying to be) and decided that they would take it off if I agreed to wearing an oxygen mask for a few hours. Of course I took the deal and removing that tube was the single most disgusting thing I've ever had to do!!! I'll spare everyone the details but it was gross. I thought "YES! I'll be able to talk now!!!"...um no, I had to wait a few hours to talk because my vocal chords had gotten beat up because of the tube. Still once that tube was out, life was a whole lot better.
None of our family lives in the same city as we do because of my hubby's job. So as soon as they had told him that he would not be joining me in the operating room he had to make the call to our entire family. My parents and father in law drove up together after some car trouble and getting lost in a very confusing town they managed to make it there by the afternoon (I wish it would have been after my tube was removed but no such luck). One of my sister in laws and her boyfriend had made a 3hr trip to come see me because as my sister in law puts it she "wanted to make sure (I) was alive and was going to survive" so once the tube came out she went home...poor thing traveled 6 hrs that day. My mother in law and the rest of my sisters in law flew to Oklahoma (despite the overwhelming fear of flying one of my SILs has...poor thing!) and they were there by that evening. And so most of my family was there. My poor husband had to deal with constant phone calls of other family members that were unable to hop on a plane to be there, but he took care of that just like everything else.
And so because I was looking better my dad and father in law would be able to go back to work. And I would stay in ICU until I could convince my doctors that I didn't belong there...which I planned would be very soon!
To be continued...
Dec 3, 2007...I woke up in ICU totally tripping on pain meds and with a gross tube down my throat to which I thought "is breathing that essential that I need this gross tube gagging me constantly?" and then I remembered "Oh yeah! No breathing = death" that wasn't fun to get close to so I decided to be a big girl and tough it out, afterall it was better than drowning with fluid filled lungs like I had been what seemed like days before but it actually had been a few hours past. After meeting my beautiful little angel and getting a visit from a priest who I now realized gave me my last rites (yikes!) and blessed my baby's body, and getting visits from several frantic friends, and family...parents....that was fun!...NOT! I began to realize how close to death I had been. But more than that I began to realize my daughter had really died and that was everything that was consuming me. I couldn't talk...that's one of my favorite things to do! Luckily I have a wonderful husband that knows me thru and thru and with one look and a flick of a finger (no not that one! lol) I was able to communicate to him that I needed a way to communicate to everyone...and that I needed to not be tied to my bed! So he convinced the nurses that I would be a good girl and not pull the tube protruding from my mouth and into a very noisy machine and to find me a pen and paper. Well I can tell you from experience that writing when you can't see what you are writing and while under the influence of some very heavy drugs is hard! And no one but your soul mate might be able to understand it because that's what happened to me!
My poor hubs had to deal with the crazy family, and a druged wife to boot! Later on that day I met my series of doctors. Who knew one person could exhaust a hospital of all it's staff? I remember meeting my cardiologist because he's a close talker and when you are under pain meds it's like I was in a bad 80's video with a fish eye lens! I swear he was all up in my face, of course now I know he had to be, he was examining me and evaluating whether there had been any brain damage because of the lack of oxygen I had suffered...well if you ask me you should not evaluate a person's mental capacity when they are not tripping out on all sort of drugs lol. Anyways, then I met the respiratory specialist and his team of torturers that would come in often and shove this suction thingy down my throat (one word...gross!) and of course I got a visit from my every impotent OB that between sobs managed to tell me that she didn't know what happened and that she really didn't mean for my daughter to die---let's backup a bit...
My OB had told a week previous to this that I was over exaggerating my symptoms, that I was not as swollen as I thought (hello? I was dimpling!), that I really could breathe, to not worry about the cough I had (to take robbitusin for it), that my blood pressure was nothing to worry about because I was going to give birth any day now and that I was just anxious because I was a new mom. So she had a little guilt going on there...not to mention having to face our entire family (my mom really did want to whoop some butt LOL).
I managed to communicate to my nurses that I wanted to stop the pain meds. My arms were swollen and black and blue and ached so badly, the last thing I needed was to be burdened with more meds than necessary. They tried to convince me otherwise but I just couldn't handle not having control of myself and I wanted to know what was going on! Which is very hard to do when you're all sorts of drugged up! So I got off my pain meds, and then it was time to convince the respiratory therapists to remove the tube! Which only took a few hours once I was lucid. They saw how strong I was (or was trying to be) and decided that they would take it off if I agreed to wearing an oxygen mask for a few hours. Of course I took the deal and removing that tube was the single most disgusting thing I've ever had to do!!! I'll spare everyone the details but it was gross. I thought "YES! I'll be able to talk now!!!"...um no, I had to wait a few hours to talk because my vocal chords had gotten beat up because of the tube. Still once that tube was out, life was a whole lot better.
None of our family lives in the same city as we do because of my hubby's job. So as soon as they had told him that he would not be joining me in the operating room he had to make the call to our entire family. My parents and father in law drove up together after some car trouble and getting lost in a very confusing town they managed to make it there by the afternoon (I wish it would have been after my tube was removed but no such luck). One of my sister in laws and her boyfriend had made a 3hr trip to come see me because as my sister in law puts it she "wanted to make sure (I) was alive and was going to survive" so once the tube came out she went home...poor thing traveled 6 hrs that day. My mother in law and the rest of my sisters in law flew to Oklahoma (despite the overwhelming fear of flying one of my SILs has...poor thing!) and they were there by that evening. And so most of my family was there. My poor husband had to deal with constant phone calls of other family members that were unable to hop on a plane to be there, but he took care of that just like everything else.
And so because I was looking better my dad and father in law would be able to go back to work. And I would stay in ICU until I could convince my doctors that I didn't belong there...which I planned would be very soon!
To be continued...
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
My Story...
I've been wanting to be a mom for a very long time! I actually have a strong feeling that I was created just to be a mommy. I've always been a nurturing person and bossy to boot! (Isn't that what Mom's are made of ;D ) Well, in the spring of 2006 my husband and I decided that it was time to become parents. It was a very exciting time! In no time we got pregnant and found out our due date was December 17, 2007. We had a great time being pregnant...now I say we because even though I was the one that had the warped body and nausea, he was the one that had to deal with my cranky, hungry butt so WE were pregnant :). On the last month of my pregnancy I began feeling bloated, tired, had trouble breathing and I had what seemed the worst flu of my life to boot! I told my OB about my symptoms and she said that it was normal and that I was over reacting. And so I took her word for it. When my cough got worst and I just couldn't sleep, I called my Dr and she told me to take some robitussin and stop worrying that my due date was fast approaching. So I "maned up" and tried to survive. On December 2nd, 2007 after I had a very satisfying dinner and had just finished watching "Desperate Housewives" I went on yet another trip to the bathroom. That is when I discovered that I had what they call "bloody show" so I called the on-call line and the Dr on call told me to head to the hospital. He said that it was most likely normal but that he wasn't taking any chances. When we got to the hospital my cough was back...UGH! When they hooked me up to that usual monitors and unusual thing happened...the nurse couldn't find my daughter's heartbeat. After several tries I was having issues keeping up the hopes that is was my daughter's usual avoidance of detection devices...she never liked them you see. Well, after an ultrasound we were told the worst news I have ever received "Well, I have nothing good to tell you" said the OB, "she's gone, I don't know how or why, but she's gone and what's worst you need to calm down because your health is at danger now" well I couldn't get past the "she's gone" part, less than a week ago she had been telling me how everything was "normal" how me and my daughter were "perfectly healthy" and now she was gone? But I was only 2 weeks from my due date!
Well, we had no real time to mourn just then. The doctor went on to explain that I had inexplicably developed preeclamsia and that my blood pressure and heart rate were so high at the time that I was close to having a ceasure and that we had to make a decision as to how to deliver. My husband and I looked at her completely confused, you see it seemed at the time that my health was deteriorating very quickly and I was only 1 cm dialated...so why would anything but a c-section make sense? So we went on to telling her what we thought and she sent in a nurse with paperwork. At this point I began complaining that I was having issues breathing. After filling out most of the paperwork, the OB came back and noticed I was having trouble breathing (yes they had listening issues) and rushed me to the operating room. Long story short... approximately 2 hrs and one blue code later they were able to stabilize me enough to deliver my daughter and I woke up in the ICU intubated realizing it hadn't all been a horrible dream.
So what went wrong? It turns out I was affected by a condition called Peripartum Cardiomyopathy or PPCM it affects 1-3,000 women in the US every year and my Dr didn't figure it out in time to save my daughter...as a matter in fact the Drs said I was minutes away from death...on this I don't doubt them.
Well in some parts of the whole situation I've been one of the "lucky ones" because even though most women with PPCM get to keep their little ones, only a small percentage recover. My heart healed in 3 months! After a year of medications, strict diet and exercise, and life saving therapy (because as you might imagine I had a major case of the blues) I was able to begin talking baby again. In March of 2009 my cardiologist and I decided it was time to get off my meds! In April I had a follow up echocardiogram and my heart function is still going strong! Last week I got to say BYE-BYE to my IUD, and today I had my last cardio appointment before I go back for my first trimester echo! That's right...I got the green light!
And so begins my tirp down mommy lane (again!)!
Well, we had no real time to mourn just then. The doctor went on to explain that I had inexplicably developed preeclamsia and that my blood pressure and heart rate were so high at the time that I was close to having a ceasure and that we had to make a decision as to how to deliver. My husband and I looked at her completely confused, you see it seemed at the time that my health was deteriorating very quickly and I was only 1 cm dialated...so why would anything but a c-section make sense? So we went on to telling her what we thought and she sent in a nurse with paperwork. At this point I began complaining that I was having issues breathing. After filling out most of the paperwork, the OB came back and noticed I was having trouble breathing (yes they had listening issues) and rushed me to the operating room. Long story short... approximately 2 hrs and one blue code later they were able to stabilize me enough to deliver my daughter and I woke up in the ICU intubated realizing it hadn't all been a horrible dream.
So what went wrong? It turns out I was affected by a condition called Peripartum Cardiomyopathy or PPCM it affects 1-3,000 women in the US every year and my Dr didn't figure it out in time to save my daughter...as a matter in fact the Drs said I was minutes away from death...on this I don't doubt them.
Well in some parts of the whole situation I've been one of the "lucky ones" because even though most women with PPCM get to keep their little ones, only a small percentage recover. My heart healed in 3 months! After a year of medications, strict diet and exercise, and life saving therapy (because as you might imagine I had a major case of the blues) I was able to begin talking baby again. In March of 2009 my cardiologist and I decided it was time to get off my meds! In April I had a follow up echocardiogram and my heart function is still going strong! Last week I got to say BYE-BYE to my IUD, and today I had my last cardio appointment before I go back for my first trimester echo! That's right...I got the green light!
And so begins my tirp down mommy lane (again!)!
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