baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahaahahahaahahahhahahaha…. yeah. that was a bad joke…
I’m pretty certain most, if not all, of my loyal readers are already aware that Little Man is here! This is the story, a few days late of how shiz went down.
As you already know if you’ve been keeping up with my drivel, I’ve been experiencing “prodromal” labour for a couple of weeks now. Which sucked. The contractions seemed to be increasing in severity, but never getting any regularity whatsoever. I’d contract every 5 or so minutes for an hour, just to have them slow down to about every 20 mins for an hour then pick up again… In any case, I was told by the OB covering for Dr. Awesome that if I started bleeding or leaking fluid to get my ass to the hospital. None of that ever had a chance to happen.
Friday night was pretty miserable, I barely slept, and just felt a general state of total fatigue and crap- contracting constantly, again without any rhyme or reason. I tried taking Ty.lenol to calm things down with minimal success. Saturday was worse…. much much worse. I knew the contractions I was having were labour contractions, but because they never came closer together or had any regularity whatsoever, I was extremely reluctant to go get checked out. (believe me, it’s really NOT fun to drive 1/2 an hour to the hospital to get told to “suck it up princess- it’s just false labour; faking it will not get you any sympathy here” <— yes, I WAS actually told this during my last pregnancy during the five weeks of prodromal hell I experienced- it was one of many many horrible awful very bad no good things spouted to me during that time). So anyway, by 11pm Saturday night, I was in the tub writhing in pain that was enough to bring me to tears, a very epic accomplishment considering I live in constant pain from the fibro, and so have a very very high pain tolerance. My husband, knowing this, became pretty concerned, and called L&D, who, obviously, told him to make me come in… so I argued with him for about half an hour and told him I’d just take more Ty.lenol and try to sleep it off… hahahahaahahaha
Needless to say, my husband won the argument… I went in to L&D to discover their equipment actually works, and although irregular my contractions were most definitely measuring in the level of “painful”. I was checked for dilation and given a very brief external U/S to ensure the stitch had not already ruptured. Lo and behold, my asshole cervix was opening- I was 1-2cm, with a guessed length of about 1/2-1cm only. GO ME!! There was some discussion among the OB on call and perinatologist who I love- she was the perinatologist whom I met with during my previous hospital stay- and myself on the best course of action. I was given two choices; wait it out and hope upon hope that the labour stopped, risking the stitch rupturing, hemorrhage, big mess and possible hysterectomy OR deliver this “term” baby NOW. Given the U/S dating, we all assumed I was closer to 37 weeks than 36, and because I’d been given steroids already to help with lung development, everyone agreed that was our safest course. Hubs left the hospital to take our surprisingly un-exhausted Gremlin home to bed, and I was prepped for surgery; Getting an IV started was a bitch, I got poked about 5 or so times for that, and twice to get bloodwork drawn. Then was taken down to the OR to try and get a spinal started. It actually worked out in my favor that we weren’t able to get it started, because the OB got called away to do a delivery!! By the time he go back, the spinal would have worn off- so right out to sleep I went.
The surgery went well, and at 4:07 am July 29th, 2012 my wee man was born!! A whopping 8lbs 13oz and 20 inches long! (my little short-ass!)
Unfortunately, the tale doesn’t quite end there… I awoke in a room and was asked if I would like to see my boy. It was explained that he was slightly more premature than was suspected- his estimated gestational age only 36 weeks, and that due to that, and the fact that I had GD (which can cause delay in lung development, even when controlled well), he was having a bit of trouble breathing and would need to be in the NICU. They wheeled him in to see me, CPAP mask in place, and removed his little cap to show me his abundance of dark, slightly wavy hair- he looks just like his daddy!!! I quickly dozed back off, I’d been given a goodly dose of morphine after surgery (I also had my tubes tied), but I dreamed of my sweet, dark-haired little love.
It’s now four days later and I’m your typical, exhausted, post-partum mom. Recovery from the surgery has been very hard, and complicated by the high level of activity I’ve had to maintain due to trips to the NICU, both in hospital (long friggin walk from my ward to there), and now being home, with an active toddler making daily trips to the hospital (more long friggin walks from the parkade to the NICU); almost complete lack of ability to have any sort of real “rest” between 2-3 hour wakings to pump so that wee man can get every single drop of breast milk available to him, and the stress of having a babe in NICU. For the most part, I can’t say a single bad thing about the staff at the hospital here- they have done so much and been so kind, and helpful- the complete opposite of the experience I had with Gremlin, but it’s still stressful all the same- and made harder by the fact that I do have my little Gremlin and have to divide my time between a toddler who can’t understand why mama has to be gone so much time, and a little man in the hospital who I want to be with so desperately it’s almost physically painful.
The positive side of it all is this- my sweet boy-child is here, and he is doing very well. He spent a day and a bit on CPAP, moving up to nasal cannula, and has been doing trials on room air since Wednesday. He was able to start taking the breast Wednesday night, and is a voracious little piggy! He’s definitely his father’s boy- apparently hubs’ mom used to cry when she had to feed him because he was such an insatiable little hog!! He’s a lot more alert every day, he wakes when he hears my voice every time I come to visit now and starts wiggling like mad to be picked up. He loves his paci like it’s a part of him, and is the most amazing little snuggler- when doing kangaroo care he literally tries to wrap his wee little arms around you, or grabs your finger like a lifeline- he just never wants to be let go. He is the most amazing little miracle and I love him more than life itself. I can’t wait to bring him home and have our family all together again under the same roof.