Okay, the pitocin. I was able to put it off for a stint, but I had been kept awake for 24 hours and lost my resistance. Pitocin, without a doubt, is a terrible experience. And I didn't have the stamina needed to sustain it. After three hours of fast-paced, hard irregular contractions that raked my body with pain, I caved and got an epidural. Meanwhile, they cranked the pitocin all night and by morning I was suffering in an immobilized state. They inserted a catheter into me because I could no longer get up to pee and I still was able to feel it going in.
When the nurses changed shifts, my fetal monitor had slipped. The nurse freaked out at the new erratic numbers and started rolling me around and the OB came in and wanted to attach a monitor to baby's head, up my cervix, which was only 5 cm after all that. At this point I said simply and loudly, "No. Just get him OUT. I want a cesarian."
And that's what happened. It was quick, I was scared, the Dude was left behind with no instructions and I was wheeled out of the delivery room and to the OR. I had to lay in a crucified Jesus pose while I was hooked up to things, given more anaesthesia and prepped for surgery. My midwife came and sat with me, offering comfort and eventually the Dude was given a place beside me.
There was pressure. I held the Dude's gaze the entire time, and it was the only thing keeping me calm. I love that man, I really do. He had no interest in watching the procedure. He was there for me. The curtain draped over my face quite a bit, my torso being so short, and it was yet another minor indignity.
We heard, "It's a boy! And he's peeing!" John was proclaimed a healthy baby, 9 pounds 13, and scored a 9 out of 10 on his Apgar. All the concern over him was unwarranted. The placenta looked in good shape, I'd had a lot of fluid and the cord was great. I cried when I heard him cry. The Dude was crying and we had a son.
He doesn't look a thing like a newborn. He instead looked about 2 weeks old or more. His neck was strong and he could already hold it up some. He latched to my breast within 40 minutes of the birth. Slightly overcooked, but seemingly healthier and stronger for it. My body sustained him well, but never seemed to be able to transition out of the pregnancy.
The recovery was a little rough. We paid a little extra and got a private room since we'd be there awhile. Unfortunately, the sleep deprivation was constant. I was woken up frequently by staff to give me meds, take my vitals or talk to me about various things. And this was on top of Jack (Which is my preferred nickname for my son) waking up and needing us. Rather than go into a lengthy sleep, he began a cluster feed immediately and I was nursing all the time while the Dude changed diapers.
Eventually I developed hives. They spread all over my body and itched horribly. I was given Benadryl, which worked, but they still came back. I was exhausted. I found nursing challenging with my incision and the pain meds were only enough to take the edge off, not eliminate it. I needed help up for everything. I could barely walk. The Dude was in and out a lot running necessary errands and fielding phone calls and texts, getting me drinks, and getting himself food since they would only feed me.
I was discharged after two days, hives in full effect, pain constant and feeling highly depressed about my chances of taking care of a baby. The Dude talked to my aunt and she came a little early to be with me. My father-in-law, now in town, took us home and I was helped into bed. My hives spread to my face and my lips looked like bees had stung them.
My aunt arrived and after more Benadryl my hives subsided. It was a battle for another day or two to keep them away. I developed more nursing issues after that. My milk didn't come in. I was only getting colostrum and Jack was going hungry. After losing 12% of his body weight, he was put on formula and I had to start pumping to generate more milk.
But this proved difficult. I was still exhausted and needed to nap, eat, tend to my body and the manual pump I had was not very efficient. The Dude went out and bought an expensive electric one. It works great, but I only got to use it once.
Last night I developed a fever of 38.6 C (Almost 102 F). It started with uncontrollable shakes and chills. After a couple hours I was heating up. My midwife said to go to the emergency room, and my father-in-law came over and drove us to the ER while my aunt stayed with the baby.
We were there till 4:00 a.m. The woman beside me, separated by only a curtain, was not given much chance to last the night and her family surrounded her as a priest gave her Last Rites.
They took blood and urine and I was sent home with an appointment for an ultrasound for 1:00 pm, which my father-in-law also drove us to. I wrote part one of the story before this appointment. The ultrasound was 45 minutes behind schedule and it was both an abdominal and a trans vaginal. I was uncomfortable.
After going through the ER again I was informed I had Endometritis, an infection of the uterus. I'm now alone in a hospital room away from my family for up to two days. I've cried a lot today. I'm tired. I'm low. I'm afraid of losing my milk. It'll be hard to pump in this room. It's from 1930, the whole ward is outdated and sorta scary and what few plugs there are are inconveniently located. The Dude fought the staff to get me a private room, and that is sustaining me right now.
That and the knowledge that it's either this line of treatment or I pretty much suffer indefinitely. Jack is in good hands, the Dude is home and finally getting some needed sleep and I guess now is the time to rest, myself.
So now I sleep. Tomorrow brings antibiotics, hospital food, pumping efforts, and complicated trips to the bathroom.
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Monday, April 8, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
40+6
Oh, I haven't given birth yet, though I have contracted a nasty cold.
It's one of those colds that causes you to cough so forcefully that you throw up. I was already throwing up from time to time due to acid reflux, solved by sleeping upright on the couch at night. But now I was vomiting after I ate. And the runny nose has also been a delight.
So, with it being officially the 18th, I'm six days past my due date. This, generally speaking, is not a cause for concern. 40 weeks is average. Pregnancies can last between 38 to 42 weeks. Hence I don't need to be alarmed. My body is not an egg timer. But there is a difference between knowing this intellectually and the way it feels.
How does it feel? Well, I feel like a walking time bomb of fluids and pains. I've been experiencing pre-labour things for weeks: extra Braxton hicks, menstrual-like cramps. But still waiting on the THIS IS IT sensation of a real contraction, something I'll have to trust I'll recognize for what it is when the time comes.
The birth pool is set up in the kitchen. It's sort of just there, taunting me. One night when pre-labour pains were especially intense, I asked the Dude to get it ready just in case. And of course everything calmed down and I went on being pregnant forever.
But back to the cold, it's sort of been ruining my life for several days and last night entirely robbed me of sleep. I was waking every 20 minutes to sip water to quench my desert-like throat, or to cough violently. Then I had to go downstairs every 60-90 minutes to go to the bathroom and blow my nose. Putting off the bathroom ran me the risk of urinating a little from the coughs, they were that intense. I couldn't drink enough, I couldn't pee enough.
So, I called Telehealth and was informed to see a doctor within a few hours, probably due to my advanced gestation. And being that it was Sunday, I had to get to a place downtown that was only open until 4:00. Spent $35 on cabs there and back. That's how you know I'm sick, when I don't even consider the TTC.
Now, I haven't seen a doctor throughout my pregnancy. I've seen midwives. And because I haven't had cause to see a doctor, I've not bothered, even for a yearly physical. Why? Well... when you show up pregnant to a doctor and they want to know about your medical care during pregnancy you run the risk of condescension and disapproval. And I also can't help but feel my regular doctor would feel affronted by what is frankly my lack of confidence. It's not that I don't think she's a good doctor, it's just sometimes her bedside manner has been patronizing and appointments are always late and rushed, and there would be no home birth option and I don't know how knowledgeable she is about natural birth.
Anyway, this doctor at the walk-in was off-putting in exactly the way I had anticipated. He asked me about my doctor, I told him I had a midwife and he wanted to know what she said about my cough. I responded that she felt I should see a doctor about it. Fair enough, right? Midwives aren't GPs. They don't treat illness. They don't prescribe antibiotics. They're pregnancy and birth specialists.
His response was a dismissive, "Oh, that's helpful." Well, actually, I think it was. It's responsible for midwives to refer their patients to doctors when necessary. Then he wanted to know what my midwife intended to "do" about my pregnancy. I asked him to clarify that, because I'm not sure what there would be to do about a natural process that will end in due time. I'm still well within normal parameters, after all. He was wondering why I hadn't been induced yet, why I hadn't been transferred to an obstetrician yet.
I told him it was standard, that normal pregnancy was between 38 to 42 weeks and that now I was hoping I wouldn't give birth soon anyway until my cough was under control. He prescribed me some antibiotics, scared me off my neti pot and away I went.
You know, I just don't... care for doctors. I always go in hoping to like them, to see a friendly face and occasionally I'm pleased to meet someone who speaks with kindness and compassion and respect for you as a sentient person. But more often I just keep meeting these medical folks who talk down to me, try and frighten me or otherwise make me feel either confused or violated in some manner.
When we got home, the Dude propped me up in bed with every pillow in the house and we watched a movie until I found a way to lean over onto my side, feel the sweet bliss of gravity and fell asleep. Eventually I know I'll take sleeping horizontally for granted again, but I have to say, that much-needed nap felt godlike.
So, still waiting. Somehow having this cold, although annoying and awful, makes me feel a bit better about still being pregnant. It'll be easier to nurse it away without the baby here than with. So at least my lengthier gestation is serving some sort of a purpose.
It's one of those colds that causes you to cough so forcefully that you throw up. I was already throwing up from time to time due to acid reflux, solved by sleeping upright on the couch at night. But now I was vomiting after I ate. And the runny nose has also been a delight.
So, with it being officially the 18th, I'm six days past my due date. This, generally speaking, is not a cause for concern. 40 weeks is average. Pregnancies can last between 38 to 42 weeks. Hence I don't need to be alarmed. My body is not an egg timer. But there is a difference between knowing this intellectually and the way it feels.
How does it feel? Well, I feel like a walking time bomb of fluids and pains. I've been experiencing pre-labour things for weeks: extra Braxton hicks, menstrual-like cramps. But still waiting on the THIS IS IT sensation of a real contraction, something I'll have to trust I'll recognize for what it is when the time comes.
The birth pool is set up in the kitchen. It's sort of just there, taunting me. One night when pre-labour pains were especially intense, I asked the Dude to get it ready just in case. And of course everything calmed down and I went on being pregnant forever.
But back to the cold, it's sort of been ruining my life for several days and last night entirely robbed me of sleep. I was waking every 20 minutes to sip water to quench my desert-like throat, or to cough violently. Then I had to go downstairs every 60-90 minutes to go to the bathroom and blow my nose. Putting off the bathroom ran me the risk of urinating a little from the coughs, they were that intense. I couldn't drink enough, I couldn't pee enough.
So, I called Telehealth and was informed to see a doctor within a few hours, probably due to my advanced gestation. And being that it was Sunday, I had to get to a place downtown that was only open until 4:00. Spent $35 on cabs there and back. That's how you know I'm sick, when I don't even consider the TTC.
Now, I haven't seen a doctor throughout my pregnancy. I've seen midwives. And because I haven't had cause to see a doctor, I've not bothered, even for a yearly physical. Why? Well... when you show up pregnant to a doctor and they want to know about your medical care during pregnancy you run the risk of condescension and disapproval. And I also can't help but feel my regular doctor would feel affronted by what is frankly my lack of confidence. It's not that I don't think she's a good doctor, it's just sometimes her bedside manner has been patronizing and appointments are always late and rushed, and there would be no home birth option and I don't know how knowledgeable she is about natural birth.
Anyway, this doctor at the walk-in was off-putting in exactly the way I had anticipated. He asked me about my doctor, I told him I had a midwife and he wanted to know what she said about my cough. I responded that she felt I should see a doctor about it. Fair enough, right? Midwives aren't GPs. They don't treat illness. They don't prescribe antibiotics. They're pregnancy and birth specialists.
His response was a dismissive, "Oh, that's helpful." Well, actually, I think it was. It's responsible for midwives to refer their patients to doctors when necessary. Then he wanted to know what my midwife intended to "do" about my pregnancy. I asked him to clarify that, because I'm not sure what there would be to do about a natural process that will end in due time. I'm still well within normal parameters, after all. He was wondering why I hadn't been induced yet, why I hadn't been transferred to an obstetrician yet.
I told him it was standard, that normal pregnancy was between 38 to 42 weeks and that now I was hoping I wouldn't give birth soon anyway until my cough was under control. He prescribed me some antibiotics, scared me off my neti pot and away I went.
You know, I just don't... care for doctors. I always go in hoping to like them, to see a friendly face and occasionally I'm pleased to meet someone who speaks with kindness and compassion and respect for you as a sentient person. But more often I just keep meeting these medical folks who talk down to me, try and frighten me or otherwise make me feel either confused or violated in some manner.
When we got home, the Dude propped me up in bed with every pillow in the house and we watched a movie until I found a way to lean over onto my side, feel the sweet bliss of gravity and fell asleep. Eventually I know I'll take sleeping horizontally for granted again, but I have to say, that much-needed nap felt godlike.
So, still waiting. Somehow having this cold, although annoying and awful, makes me feel a bit better about still being pregnant. It'll be easier to nurse it away without the baby here than with. So at least my lengthier gestation is serving some sort of a purpose.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
30 weeks
Vomiting is slightly traumatic. Some people can do it unceremoniously and others... can't. I chucked my cookies for the first time this pregnancy last night. It came on hard and sudden while I laid down for bed and I barely made it to the bathroom. The Dude rushed in to hold my hair and cleaned up the mess I made. He's good. I mean, the man loves me.
I cried last night before bed. My ribcage was aching. Turns out it's expanded three inches already, which was alarming even if it was expected. My lower back was in pain. My sour heartburn was around as per usual and I had a constant gas bubble sitting inside my chest. I would pound it out and another would reappear. I was just so damn fed up with feeling subpar.
The Dude had a McDonalds craving and so that was what I ate last night and subsequently lost to the porcelain express. The only good thing that happened after the tears and the upchucking was that the McD's seemed to absorb all the acid and take it along for the mass stomach eviction. I had the best night's sleep I can remember in a long time. It was six hours of broken sleep, but heartburn-free. Of course it was back in the morning, but I had a reprieve from one of my most trying symptoms.
I have roughy 10 weeks left of this nonsense. I went to the midwives yesterday. Blood pressure? Perfect. Weight? On target. Measurements? Normal. Glucose? Healthy. My healthful, uncomplicated pregnancy still comes with all these quality of life issues. Gotta say, I'm not feeling the glow. I'm told I have the glow, which is great, but I feel old. Like, creaky with bouts of bodily failures.
My cloth diapers arrived in the mail today. They're really cute and high quality. The colours are nifty too. The fact they don't become instant garbage as soon as they're used gives me a sense of satisfaction. I always thought that was gross, the disposable nature of diapers. I'm grateful to live in an era with sensible (and adorable) alternatives.
I wonder if my child will ever want to read my blog. If so, let me tell you, kid, this sucks. If nothing tells you how much I want to be your mother, going through this crappy pregnancy should give you an idea. Also, I reserve the right to throw my suffering in your face if you give me lip. Ha!
I cried last night before bed. My ribcage was aching. Turns out it's expanded three inches already, which was alarming even if it was expected. My lower back was in pain. My sour heartburn was around as per usual and I had a constant gas bubble sitting inside my chest. I would pound it out and another would reappear. I was just so damn fed up with feeling subpar.
The Dude had a McDonalds craving and so that was what I ate last night and subsequently lost to the porcelain express. The only good thing that happened after the tears and the upchucking was that the McD's seemed to absorb all the acid and take it along for the mass stomach eviction. I had the best night's sleep I can remember in a long time. It was six hours of broken sleep, but heartburn-free. Of course it was back in the morning, but I had a reprieve from one of my most trying symptoms.
I have roughy 10 weeks left of this nonsense. I went to the midwives yesterday. Blood pressure? Perfect. Weight? On target. Measurements? Normal. Glucose? Healthy. My healthful, uncomplicated pregnancy still comes with all these quality of life issues. Gotta say, I'm not feeling the glow. I'm told I have the glow, which is great, but I feel old. Like, creaky with bouts of bodily failures.
My cloth diapers arrived in the mail today. They're really cute and high quality. The colours are nifty too. The fact they don't become instant garbage as soon as they're used gives me a sense of satisfaction. I always thought that was gross, the disposable nature of diapers. I'm grateful to live in an era with sensible (and adorable) alternatives.
I wonder if my child will ever want to read my blog. If so, let me tell you, kid, this sucks. If nothing tells you how much I want to be your mother, going through this crappy pregnancy should give you an idea. Also, I reserve the right to throw my suffering in your face if you give me lip. Ha!
Monday, September 17, 2012
Preggo sick
I have a cold, a cold I can't treat with plentiful amounts of over-the-counter offerings. I want so badly to take things that would offer me some refuge from this. I can honestly say that a pregnancy cold is something more insidious than your non-preggo cold. You're already more tired and achy than normal, so throwing cold symptoms on top of it without the ability to take whatever drugs you want for it, you're in for a bad time.
I don't normally get sick, but pregnancy does lower your immune system, which is to protect your fetus from being attacked as an intruding force. And that sorta makes sense. "Hey you! Yeah, buddy, you who's feeding off the organs there! Knock it off! Pew-pew!" A lazier immune system that'll give this foreign body a pass is something of a must. Too bad getting sick fast and hard goes along with it.
I don't normally get sick, but pregnancy does lower your immune system, which is to protect your fetus from being attacked as an intruding force. And that sorta makes sense. "Hey you! Yeah, buddy, you who's feeding off the organs there! Knock it off! Pew-pew!" A lazier immune system that'll give this foreign body a pass is something of a must. Too bad getting sick fast and hard goes along with it.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Sick, so sick
Oh man, I'm unwell. And it's been attacking me for days. It started on Saturday, and I have a reprieve on Sunday morning, but it teased me through the afternoon and really started in earnest in the evening. I suffered most of the night, throughout the morning and had to catch a bus home Monday afternoon.
And that wasn't too bad. I could even stop into a Starbucks for a piece of lemon seed loaf. But when I got home, that was it. Chills. I couldn't get warm, even with three blankets. I was sick to my stomach and couldn't bear the idea of food. I was weak, achy, and I completely succumbed to overwhelming fatigue. And this is on top of the highly unpleasant main symptom that had me two pounds lighter in two days while visiting my family. I'd estimate I'm down another pound.
I took the day off, after being called to the line of duty, so to speak, all last night. I couldn't bear to face the day. I could hardly pull myself out of my bed.
And now I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, so I'm taking another medical day. I'm yet to work in my new office. It's there, ready and waiting, set up and all that jazz. I can't help but feel guilty about it. It's not like I'm well enough to be working, but my station is there, visible from my couch, and I feel delinquent.
Ugh. My stomach is aching so bad right now. I'll cut this off.
And that wasn't too bad. I could even stop into a Starbucks for a piece of lemon seed loaf. But when I got home, that was it. Chills. I couldn't get warm, even with three blankets. I was sick to my stomach and couldn't bear the idea of food. I was weak, achy, and I completely succumbed to overwhelming fatigue. And this is on top of the highly unpleasant main symptom that had me two pounds lighter in two days while visiting my family. I'd estimate I'm down another pound.
I took the day off, after being called to the line of duty, so to speak, all last night. I couldn't bear to face the day. I could hardly pull myself out of my bed.
And now I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, so I'm taking another medical day. I'm yet to work in my new office. It's there, ready and waiting, set up and all that jazz. I can't help but feel guilty about it. It's not like I'm well enough to be working, but my station is there, visible from my couch, and I feel delinquent.
Ugh. My stomach is aching so bad right now. I'll cut this off.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Hello 2011
I rang in the new year with friends and woke up sick as a dog, through no fault of my own. And by that, I mean I didn't have a hangover, I had a sore throat, fever, aches and a stuffy nose. I'm glad I'm not superstitious, because otherwise that and my messy apartment would be a real concern for entering 2011.
So 2010 was quite the year for me. It's not like I didn't chronicle everything in here already, big and small, but I do like to sum up things, so here we go, in chronological order:
2011 is the year the Dude and I plan to get married, but before that we're getting kittens! We still have to wait a week, however. Yes, yes, life is rough. I suppose it's safe to say that the year will also comprise of planning a wedding. I still have to find flowers, a cake, a DJ, wedding rings, and an officiant.
And of course, get over this stupid cold. *Hack* *Wheeze* *Sniffle* At least I got in a good new year's party before I came down with this. It was a really fun night: good company, tasty food, games, drinks, and celebration. And good thing I enjoyed it, too, because the rest of my holiday vacation is likely to be spent in bed.
So 2010 was quite the year for me. It's not like I didn't chronicle everything in here already, big and small, but I do like to sum up things, so here we go, in chronological order:
- Hired maid service for the first time
- Hosted an Oscar party
- Went to California for a wedding
- Danced in the spring gala
- Saw Lady Gaga in concert
- Tried hot yoga
- McPal moved into the city
- Got engaged
- Booked a venue for the wedding
- Smokey died
- Dude was best man at his brother's wedding
- Went to Mexico and saw my family
- Was in my cousin's wedding
- Bought my wedding dress
- Turned 28 years old
- Went on extended trip home to our hometown
2011 is the year the Dude and I plan to get married, but before that we're getting kittens! We still have to wait a week, however. Yes, yes, life is rough. I suppose it's safe to say that the year will also comprise of planning a wedding. I still have to find flowers, a cake, a DJ, wedding rings, and an officiant.
And of course, get over this stupid cold. *Hack* *Wheeze* *Sniffle* At least I got in a good new year's party before I came down with this. It was a really fun night: good company, tasty food, games, drinks, and celebration. And good thing I enjoyed it, too, because the rest of my holiday vacation is likely to be spent in bed.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Sick and Valentines
Still sick. Had a woozy doozy of a day yesterday. Actually had to take the day off work, and when you work from home, that says a lot about how crap you feel. Today I worked and it took me forever as I hacked, sneezed, coughed and slugged my way through my job.
And now I have a glorious three days off. Recovery is ahead. Though tomorrow maid service is coming to clean the apartment and the Dude's stepbrother and his fiancee want to take the Dude out to a belated birthday dinner and I'm invited. I'd like to go, but we'll see how I manage with this nagging cough.
As for the maid service, it's my Valentine's Day present to the Dude. Past years I've sprung for a couples massage, or a hotel room at the Gladstone. Romantic stuff. This year I'm being pragmatic about what will bring us closer together as a couple. The Dude's been talking about hiring cleaners for over a year. He loathes to clean (Fancy that!) and so this is right up his alley. And in turn, it's also up my alley because although I am less adverse to cleaning than he is, I don't care much for it either.
My goodness, my throat feels like ass. Maybe a nap is in order. I'll grab Smokey. He's always up for a nap.
And now I have a glorious three days off. Recovery is ahead. Though tomorrow maid service is coming to clean the apartment and the Dude's stepbrother and his fiancee want to take the Dude out to a belated birthday dinner and I'm invited. I'd like to go, but we'll see how I manage with this nagging cough.
As for the maid service, it's my Valentine's Day present to the Dude. Past years I've sprung for a couples massage, or a hotel room at the Gladstone. Romantic stuff. This year I'm being pragmatic about what will bring us closer together as a couple. The Dude's been talking about hiring cleaners for over a year. He loathes to clean (Fancy that!) and so this is right up his alley. And in turn, it's also up my alley because although I am less adverse to cleaning than he is, I don't care much for it either.
My goodness, my throat feels like ass. Maybe a nap is in order. I'll grab Smokey. He's always up for a nap.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Sick 'n stuff
I'm sick. Not terribly so, but enough that living sucks. It's a basic cold, mostly a sore throat that makes it hard to talk or swallow. And though I've downed a ton of Halls, some Benylin, and I've tried to sleep this off, what helps? Uncle Ray's hot chips. Go figure. It burns to eat them, but it burns so goooood.
The Dude's been taking care of me. I don't do sick well. I never have. I always get over stuff pretty fast, though. Maybe because I stop doing everything once I'm sick and give myself a chance to recuperate. Or maybe I'm just a wiener. Whatever.
I go rest now. Zzzz...
The Dude's been taking care of me. I don't do sick well. I never have. I always get over stuff pretty fast, though. Maybe because I stop doing everything once I'm sick and give myself a chance to recuperate. Or maybe I'm just a wiener. Whatever.
I go rest now. Zzzz...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)