Brief moments of fantasticalness: Recovery and Going Home

Recovering from a c-section while having a newborn and a toddler is quite an adventure. There was still the surreal "amusment park ride in the dark" feeling for a while. I'd been transferred from the operating table (on the 2nd floor, center tower) to a stretcher, up the elevator to the 5th floor, center tower. They brought me into room 5404, and transferred me again from the stretcher to my hospital bed. All of which gave me the sensation that I was a beached whale, my limbs were useless and heavy and I felt so out of my element, not knowing where I was in space.
Once I was settled in my recovery room, Ray and our parents could come in, and we could all spend some time together. I was still a jumble of wires and tubes. IV poles with antibiotics and fluids. A lovely foley catheter. Compression leg wraps (which I started referring to as "leg warmers" since mine did not cover my feet). At this point, I think it was after 7 pm, and I had not eaten for well over 12 hours. I was hungry and thirsty! After they thought my stomach had settled, I was allowed some ginger ale. Relief! Still, no food until breakfast the next morning. Twenty-four full hours (and then some!) without food. Ugh.
And, to continue with the student theme, my first nurse for the evening has a Michigan State nursing student attending her. We also take leave of the GVSU student after recovery, who confirms that she really enjoyed being there for this section. The student doctor also had, after surgery, shook my hand, thanked me for being able to participate, and said to me Dr Lagrand really looks out for his patients. He seemed to be giving this statement extra significance.

The next 12 hours or so included vitals checks every hour: BP, temp, pulse ox. Occassionally a nurse would listen to my lungs. Frequently they would press on my abdomen to make sure my uterus was contracting. They'd check my incision/stitches to make sure they were clean and dry. They'd check my urine output from the catheter, and other post-delivery things. With delivery with Maia, I had some of these follow ups, but many fewer.
After a few hours, as sensation started returning to my lower half (feet first, and on up from there). I was able to rotate my ankles (No blood clots, no blood clots, no blood clots) and wiggle my toes. Still, any work they needed to do on me consisted of two-person lifts and rolling me from side to side to change the bedding or whatever. Ugh. This isn't giving birth! How is it that such a beautiful baby comes out of such a rediculous production? What a circus!
Fortunately my baby is beautiful, and amazingly soft, and pink. And he looks like a 1 month old. No cone head, no bruises or scrapes or scratches. A little fleshy. And the most kissable cheeks! Oh, LOVE! I comment later to Ray, I think one of the interesting by-products of this type of delivery is that I find myself feeling more protective of Parker immediately than I did with Maia. Which is interesting, since she was actually having some minor difficulties after birth (meconium aspiration). Perhaps because I felt more in control with her delivery, and completly out of control with his.

We spend some time together: grandparents, baby, mommy and daddy. Then Ray and Effie leave to go cover Maia, so Aunt Kathleen can come visit. Ray stays the latest, making sure again that it's okay with me that he leaves. I assure him it is okay. It will be important for Maia that he is there in the morning, since I will not be, and it's never restful sleep in a hospital anyway.

Well. How true that would be! So my first night, post-op. I'm seeing the nurses' aide every hour and the RN frequently. As my spinal block wears off, I am weaned over to IV pain meds. At about 2 a.m., it is time for me to get out of bed for the first time. That's a slow process, and in addition to just getting up, it's time for a second post-op clean up for me. I'm actually feeling okay (a little disoriented, which is why I'm wearing my big yellow "FALL RISK" bracelet), and having been encouraged to get moving as soon as possible... I decide that I'll give it a shot. You know, I've never seen the nursery here... how far is it? Well, turns out it's almost a straight shot from my room, halfway down the hall. So I make for the nursery... walking like an 80 year old with a broken hip. Shuffle, shuffle. With my ugly, not very comfortable, got-them-on-clearance-so-I-wouldn't-care-if-they-got-ruined slippers on. Got my IV pole for support, and my NA, Liz, is carrying my catheter bag. Wow. What a glamourous job!
I make it to the nursery (not without some deep breathing to keep my head out of the clouds, although I never feel like I'm going to fall) and look at all the babies. Parker is definitely bigger than most of them. There are a couple of tiny tiny peanuts... but I find out that all the babies on this floor are c-section babies, so I'm thinking there are a good chance that some of them are pre-term or early "full term" babies (lots of inductions are done at 37-38 weeks for those high risk mommas). I'm also struck by how many of them have LOTS of hair. Mostly dark hair... Parker is the lone red, which is of no surprise to me. As big as he is, however... he doesn't really look that out of proportion to me. I'm told later that there is another boy even bigger than him.
Liz and I spend a LOT of time together that first night. She has a 26-month-old girl who was 9 lbs 10 oz when she was born. We talk potty training and toddlerhood. Liz apologizes to me about a million times because she ran out of her ADHD meds and won't have them until tomorrow, and feels like she keeps forgetting things. I so completely understand how this happened for her, as it comprises quite a bit of my job each week. Fortunately, she always tells me what she needs to do when she comes in, so when she forgets to do one of them before she goes, I remember and tell her. She always apologizes, but I don't mind a bit. It makes me feel involved in my own care, and I tell her "We're a team!" I appreciate a small amount of control after having felt like this entire week has been outside of my control.
So back to my room. Back into bed. Off with those god-awful slippers. I get spotty rest, at best. I think I actually get the most sleep when I'm nursing Parker, who dozes off quickly almost every time he latches on. The other benefit of being with Parker is that he distracts me from how incredibly ITCHY I am. An unfortunate side-effect of the pain med (I'm taking an oxy-opiate of some sort, and an NSAID - Toradol). The itching actually started in recovery... I keep rubbing my nose. Then I'm itching my jawline, or my hair line. Later, the nose thing continues, but it's now my chest, my bra line and my belly. The next night, when I'm finally able to take the compression wraps off my legs, it's my belly and my legs.
I get up to walk for a second time around 5 a.m. Liz and I make the full circle around the unit and back to my room. I'm looking at the clock constantly, thinking about when I can eat. I can't order my food until 7 a.m., and it won't arrive until 7:30 or after. Right about 6:45 am, Liz gets the okay to bring me some graham crackers. Ahhhh! Breakfast arrives about an hour later, and I can't imagine it takes me more than 2 minutes to wolf it all down.

When Maia came to visit on Saturday, she was very concerned about all the tubes attached to me, and really wanted to pull on the IV in my wrist. I don't think she cared for them at all. When it was time to leave, she was very upset, and said Momma come too? and did not appreciate the answer that no, Momma couldn't come home with her today. Momma had owies on her belly and had to stay here a little longer.
Saturday night after everyone left, I was finally able to get my catheter (another weird sensation!) and IV out, which left me free to get myself out of bed as I was able. With the removal of the IV came the transition from insta-meds to oral meds, and so pain had to be re-leveled. I found that getting out of bed was tricky, and I needed to hold my incision with my hands to keep it from burning sharply.
But I'm an independant girl, and at some point during the night, I figured I needed to figure out how to get out of bed with Parker in my arms so I could put him back in his bassinett. Once I got moving, I found out that my pain was not as under control as I thought it was (Yeeeeouwch!), and I couldn't move forward or back, and so I got stuck. My legs over the side of the bed, my feet on the floor, one arm around Parker and one on my incision, leaning backward across the bed with no way to leverage myself up, or even twist enough to put Parker down.
Oh boy. Now what? Fortunately, I had called the nurse in a few minutes before (for reasons I no longer recall) and knew someone should be on their way shortly. My nurse Sherry arrived, and took one surprised look at me... Yeah, I think I need some help! I got myself stuck! I think she was trying to bite her tongue. Anyway. She took Parker from me, and helped me up, and all was fine.
Saturday night was more restful. They wanted me to send Parker to the nursery more so I could get more sleep. They would be weighing him, running some labs and doing his hearing tests anyway. So I got some more sleep, but was astonished in the morning when I woke up, and it had been over 4 hours since he'd last been brought to me for a feeding.
I was less happy when I found out later that he had dropped down to 8 lbs 15 oz since birth (7%) and that they weren't concerned yet, but wanted to encourage me to nurse him longer and more often. At this time, nursing sessions were extremly sleepy affairs for both of us (due in large part, I suspect, to the morphine-based pain meds I was on). Parker would latch well, but could only manage to get in about 6 or 7 swallows before he was out. I would tickle his feet and scratch his back, and massage under his chin to encourage him, but it was often only a matter of minutes before I was out too.
We saw Dr Lagrand and the pediatrician that day as well. We were all looking good.
Saturday afternoon/evening, my dad stayed with Maia so Raymond and Effie could get a little extra time with Parker before the hit the road to head home on Sunday morning. Maia and Papa played outside with the water table, and ate left-over Spaghetti outside too. Maia was delighted by this, and made a huge mess, I'm told.
Raymond and Effie went home in time to get Maia settled in for the night, but by that time, she was having a full-on melt-down, missing Momma. So they called, and I talked to Maia for a bit. She was extremely tearful at the beginning of the conversation, but settled as I talked to her, and asked her to tell me about her special day, and told her how much I loved her, and that I would see her tomorrow. And that Daddy would been home soon to check on her, and Daddy would be there in the morning to get her up. The tears soon stopped, and she eventually got settled enough to go to bed with Nana.
On Sunday, Ray and Maia came together. Maia spent some more time with Parker. She desperately wanted to pick him up (generally like she does her dolls, around the head or under an arm), but she was very dear about patting him and kissing his head or leg or hand. Maia spent some time cuddling next to me on the bed, and watching cartoons (sort of - she doesn't really stay engaged in cartoons, unless it's Elmo. And she's just as likely to stay engaged while watching some sporting event.)

Since I was finally unfettered by cords and tubes, the four of us took a walk together. Me pushing Parker in the bassinet, Ray holding Maia's hand. We walked a lap. Maia didn't get far, however, before she asked to hold my hand. Or wanted to help push Parker. I think that was helpful to Maia, for her to see that Momma was okay to walk and get out of bed and get around.
Ray brought Maia home for lunch and naptime, so Parker and I had a quiet, sleepy afternoon again. When Maia arrived for the afternoon visit with Ray, she was extremely concerned about leaving me there again, but we sat together and I told her that tomorrow she was going to go to "school" and see Miss Andrea, and asked "Who else?" She named off other teachers and friends... Miss Tiffany! Rooooh-man (Roman), Kih-duh-dee! (Kennedy), Nick-las! (Nicholas). I told her that when she came home from school, Momma would be there to see her! Parker too? she asks. Smart girl. Yes, Parker too.
When it was time to leave, the four of us walked to the elevator together, and it was a much happier goodbye.

On Monday morning, Ray came after breakfast....

My final hospital meal. This french toast was actually pretty good!

... and we started packing up. Dr Lagrand had already written my discharge orders on Sunday, with the plan to leave on Monday (he wanted me to stay and get another night's rest). So we waited until the pediatrician arrived. Parker's exam went well, his bilirubin levels were low (3.5, no jaundice), he had dropped 9.5 % of his birth weight and was down to 8 lbs 11 oz. They worry at 10%, but the pediatrician also stated that after the initial drop, they were starting to see the pattern decrease, and they suspected that as nursing became better established, we would see gains.

So. We are good to go. We get Parker dressed for going home. We get my discharge instructions from our nurse, have them double-check and remove all our tags, and wait for patient transport. This time I have to wait for a wheelchair. With Maia, we were anxious to get home, and it was going to be about an hour before they could bring a wheelchair for us, so I just walked out (with permission of course).