Tuesday, August 19th
8:03 a.m.
Justin stood up just in time to see my OB pull Andy's little head out of my incision. A nurse suctioned his mouth and nose while my doctor continued to deliver him.
When he was out, I had a feeling something was wrong. They didn't lift him over the drape for me to see before cleaning him up and doing weight, vitals, and his APGAR score. I didn't hear a cry. Even Kate had cried.
I stayed quiet, not wanting to distract those working on Andy with frantic questions, but my heart was pounding. All I could see from my flat position on the operating table was a screen connected to a camera that was focused on the incubator, and the incubator itself, but the NICU team was constantly back and forth between Andy and myself, so my view was obstructed.
I heard one NICU nurse shout Andy's weight and length to another. Six pounds, thirteen ounces, twenty and one half inches long. From what I could see, it appeared they were rubbing him down with blankets to stimulate breathing. I didn't learn until this past fall that his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck.
I sent Justin over to get a closer look. He took a few pictures but didn't say anything. Then, after what seemed like ages, I heard that first cry. Instant relief. Andy let out a couple of loud wails before transitioning to a soft whimper, and then fell asleep.
The NICU nurse that had cared for Kate during her stay came over to me. "He's doing okay," she said slowly.
"So no NICU?" I asked, concerned.
"For now," she replied. "We're going to have to keep an eye on him. But he can stay with you for now."
She saw the tears welling up in my eyes. Another baby with a rough start. I felt like such a failure.
"Remember, he's a little bit early. This isn't all that uncommon. It'll be alright," the nurse told me before she went back to the incubator.
After another stretch of eternity, I heard one of the NICU team members say she was going to get Andy swaddled up so Justin could bring him over to me. I watched Justin scoop up our brand new bundle and carefully walk toward me.
"Here he is!" Justin was beaming with pride. My arms were still strapped down, so I couldn't hold him just yet. Justin lowered him down by my face so I could kiss his little cheeks.
"Hi baby boy," I practically yelled. "I'll hold you soon, I promise!" Justin snapped our first picture with Andy before I went back to staring at him. I was in awe of how "big" he was compared to Kate!
NICU nurses came by every few minutes to evaluate his breathing and color while my placenta was delivered and I was stitched back up. My nausea was gone the instant the placenta was out of me.
Finally, the surgery was complete! They removed my oxygen, unstrapped my arms, and moved me into a bed. Then, Justin placed Andy is my arms.
If I could, I would describe to you the incredible feeling of getting to hold your child for the first time, but I can't. I don't have any words. I can only say that it is one of the most beautiful, overwhelming moments in life.
I snuggled him in close, and held him tight for hours.
12:00 p.m.
After a few hours in recovery, I was moved upstairs to the Women's Center, the post-partum unit. Nurses continued to monitor Andy and me, watching especially closely for respiratory distress in him, and signs of post-partum preeclampsia for me. Eventually, my catheter was removed and I was allowed to get up and move around. I took a shower and finally got to eat!
Later, Andy had his first bath, which he hated, but bath time has definitely grown on him since then. In fact, water is now one of his favorite things, especially when he can splash it on people! Unfortunately, during his very first experience with water in the outside world, he showed off his future singer lungs for the duration of the bath.
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The remainder of our time in the hospital was filled with snuggles, great food (seriously, the food in the Women's Center bistro is amazing), and visits from so many of our loved ones.
Andy did not end up needing the NICU, as his breathing troubles resolved on their own. He was a champion breastfeeder, and my milk came in very quickly. The only issue he had was a bit of jaundice that went away after a few hours under the bili-lights in the well-baby nursery.
We were discharged from Avera McKennan on Friday, August 22nd. What an amazing feeling it was to be able to take our baby home with us! Don't take that wheelchair ride to the front door, baby in your arms, for granted. It is a rite of passage not every woman gets to experience.
Less than a week after returning home, I developed post-partum preeclampsia. I was admitted to the hospital in our small town for a few days. Thankfully, I responded to the medication quickly, and was able to avoid a transfer back to Sioux Falls. It was not fun to be stuck in the hospital those early days of Andy's life. I wasn't able to breastfeed during that time because of the magnesium sulfate, and the swelling was extremely painful, but I got to have Justin, Kate, and my sweet little boy with me the entire time.
Today, Andy is a happy, silly, and loving three-year-old. He loves playing in water, watching Thomas the Tank Engine and Cat in the Hat, eating cheese and crackers, playing percussion instruments, and cuddling. He has already been through so much in his short life, including being diagnosed with tree nut allergies, level one autism with savant syndrome (formerly known as Asperger's Syndrome), and avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder.
Like his big sister, he has a resilient spirit, and a heart of gold. We are so excited to watch him continue to learn and grow, and we can't wait to see him take on the big brother role with the birth of our next child, who will be arriving very, very soon.
Andy is one special little boy, and we are so blessed to be his parents.
Tuesday, August 19th
5:30 a.m.
Justin turned into the parking ramp at the hospital. I winced as each curve onto the next level intensified the pressure in my abdomen. We parked on the very top level, right by the landing pad for the Care Flight helicopter. A lot of memories came flooding back. We parked up there every day we visited Kate during her three month NICU stay.
Justin got the hospital bag out of the trunk, and helped me out of the van, slipping his free arm around my waist. I put my head on his shoulder. All I wanted to do was sleep.
We slowly ambled down the skywalk and onto the main level of Avera McKennan. I pushed the elevator button and leaned against the wall, trying to will my water to break.
Justin had to pull me into the elevator. It wasn't that I wasn't 125% ready to be done with this pregnancy, but I still really, really, really wanted a VBAC.
The elevator stopped on the third floor. We stepped out of the elevator and headed towards the locked doors of the Labor and Delivery unit. We had to pass NICU 3, the step-down unit on the way. I smiled a bit at Kate's former home.
The receptionist in L&D let us into the unit. A nurse led me into the first room on the left while Justin filled out some check-in paperwork and gave them my advance directive.
She hooked me up to the fetal monitor and started an IV in my right arm. A bag of fluids was attached, and she told me she'd run a healthy dose of antibiotics a little later. She went through all of the usual questions and we chatted a bit about the baby.
Justin came in a few minutes later, as the nurse said "Oh, it looks like you're having a few contractions!"
Justin raised his eyebrows and smiled. The nurse told us not to get too hopeful. I would have to progress into active labor at least a half an hour before the section for my OB to even consider letting me attempt a trial of labor. At that point, I resigned myself to the reality that I would not be leaving the hospital without a fresh incision.
6:30 a.m.
Justin was sitting in a chair next to my bed. I glared at him as my stomach flip flopped between nauseated and hungry. He was happily eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, completely oblivious. He's lucky he's cute.
My nurse came back in the room to hook up my antibiotics. She let us know I'd have several people in and out of the room for the next hour to discuss medical history, current health, and the procedure itself.
After I'd talked with the nurse anesthetist, the NICU team (present at all caesareans), a resident, and my OB, my nurse came in with a set of surgical scrubs for Justin to change into. While he changed, she washed my belly with yet another round of the fiery surgical soap of doom.
Justin came out of the bathroom in his new outfit. "I think the hairnet is the best part," he said. "Better than the ones at work!"
My nurse finished up with the surgical soap, dried my stomach, and said we would be headed to the operating room shortly. We asked for one of the hospital's chaplains to come to our room and pray with us before the section. We had done the same with Kate, and it really helped calm some of those pre-op nerves.
7:34 a.m.
When we were done praying, it was time to go to the OR. My nurse asked me if I wanted a wheelchair. I told her no, and that I preferred to walk while I still could!
Justin was left waiting just outside the OR doors. He gave me a quick kiss before they led me in to place my spinal block.
As soon as the doors closed behind me, I lost my breath for a moment. The last time I was in this room, was for Kate's emergency caesarean. I don't know if it was memories, my nerves, or a combination of both, but I got a little shaky, and needed help climbing onto the operating table.
The nurse anesthetist had me round my back as much as possible and lean into his assistant as he numbed my spine and prepared to insert the needle. There seemed to be a little more difficulty placing this spinal than the one I had placed with Kate. I had one bout of pain shoot up my spine, and the procedure took longer, but it was eventually placed effectively. I had forgotten how quickly the block begins working, and my legs had to be lifted up onto the table so I could lay flat.
7:48 a.m.
The team in the OR strapped down my arms, put up the drape, started oxygen, and inserted a catheter. The resident poked me in several places to make sure I was completely numb. Then, Justin was finally allowed to come in. He sat down on a stool by my head and asked how I was feeling. I stuck out my tongue.
I was already nauseated from the anesthesia at that point. The anesthetist pushed Zofran into my IV and stuck an alcohol swab under my nose. The blood pressure cuff squeezed my arm for a final reading before my OB made the initial incision.
We chatted with the OR team members that were above the drape, including one of Kate's NICU nurses who happened to be on the NICU team that day. It was nice to have so many familiar faces in the room.
A few minutes later, I knew we must be getting close. My nausea was just on the edge of turning to projectile vomit, and I started having some abdominal pain. Justin put his hand on my head while more Zofran was pushed into my IV. I hesitated on consenting to morphine, because I knew it might make my nausea worse. I eventually gave in, because the pain was that bad. I don't care what anyone says, caesareans hurt!
The pain subsided quickly, so I turned my focus to trying not to vomit. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in...
Then, all of a sudden, I heard my doctor exclaim "Hi, little guy!"
Monday, August 18th, 2014
5:30 p.m.
I plopped down on our now-long gone artichoke couch and buckled Kate into her car seat. She made a series of her usual squawking noises and grinned at me. I couldn't help but smile at her silliness, despite my frustration. I was exactly 37 weeks pregnant with Andy, and if my body didn't go into spontaneous labor by 7:30 the next morning, I was going under the knife. Again.
A caesarean section was scheduled for the next day, due to me already progressing into preeclampsia. I was on two different blood pressure medications to try and control my readings, and was spilling a lot of protein. My OB wanted to deliver at 37 weeks for the safety of both Andy and me. Because I had a previous cesarean in my medical history, and because that procedure occurred not much more than a year prior to Andy's due date, an induction for a VBAC was too risky. If spontaneous labor didn't start soon, my hopes for a VBAC were gone.
Justin came through the front door, fresh off a long shift at the ice cream plant. He kissed my forehead before we loaded the van with our hospital bag and snapped Kate's car seat into the base.
We drove halfway across our small town, to my Dad's law office, to leave Kate with my parents while we spent four days in the hospital welcoming our newest family member. When we arrived, Justin brought Kate and her belongings inside while I sat down with my Mom to go over instructions for mixing thickener into formula to help with Kate's dysphagia.
6:00 p.m
Once my parents were fully briefed on all the intricacies of caring for a former micropreemie, and Kate was settled in, it was time to leave. I must have given Kate a hundred hugs and kisses. I had never been away from her for more than 36 hours. Finally, I reluctantly handed her off to my parents.
Justin backed our van out of the parking lot. My parents were standing on the back doorstep, holding Kate, waving goodbye. I felt a lump in my throat as my brain tried to sort through a million emotions at once.
We were headed to Sioux Falls early. We had to arrive two hours early for my 7:30 section to do labs, monitoring, antibiotics, and paperwork. We would have had to leave Le Mars at 3:30, but our generous friends (and two of Andy's godparents), Tim and Dani, were kind enough to let us crash at their house the night before.
Justin and I spent the drive trying to imagine how much our lives would change with another child in the mix, second guessing our name choices, and talking about all the (failed) tricks I had tried to induce labor. I munched on fresh pineapple slices hoping I'd get really lucky and the fruit would jump start contractions. HA. Castor oil, long walks, stairs, wings drenched in the "Blazing" sauce at Buffalo Wild Wings...nothing had worked, but man, was I determined to get things started with my big bowl of pineapple.
7:30 p.m.
We arrived at our friends' place and got everything organized for the next morning, before getting back into the van for a quick bite to eat. After dinner, we were planning on seeing the screen adaptation of my favorite book, The Giver. Despite having been on modified bed rest for two months, I insisted on parking as far away as possible from both the restaurant and the movie theatre, in a final, desperate attempt to feel some contractions. Instead, I got to feel a very full stomach after Justin and I devoured an extra-large bucket of popcorn.
9:30 p.m.
The movie was wonderful, and we left the theatre after the credits with smiles on our faces. We drove back to our friends' condo, and started to get ready for bed. Both the night before the caesarean, and the morning of, I had to shower with a "gentle" surgical soap my OB had given me at my last appointment. I've had several surgeries where I've been required to use said soap and had no issues, so I'm not sure if it was a weird fluke, or a strange new brand, but holy banana pancakes. That stuff BURNED.
After rinsing away the fiery surgical soap of doom, I put my hair in a couple of French braids and went over our hospital checklist for the millionth time with Justin.
11:30 p.m.
It was getting really late, and I wasn't even a little bit tired, but I knew I should at least attempt to get some sleep. I took my final dose of anti-emetics and tried to settle in for some sleep.
Justin, of course, was out in minutes. I tossed and turned almost the entire night. I think I finally fell into a very light sleep around 3:00, which wasn't much help, as my alarm was due to go off only an hour later.
Tuesday, August 19th
4:00 a.m.
My phone started blaring, waking me from my restless sleep. I groggily got out of bed and waddled to the bathroom for my second shower with the atomic surgical soap. I tried to shower as fast as I could. The shower and smell of the soap was making me nauseated. My body needed my anti-emetics, but I couldn't take anything via mouth after 11:30 the previous night in case of an emergency requiring general anesthesia.
After my shower, Justin and I brushed our teeth and repacked our hospital bag with everything we'd gotten out the night before.
5:10 a.m.
Everything was organized. We were ready to go. Justin snapped one last picture of my baby bump before we left.
We quietly made our way down Tim and Dani's stairs, and out to our van. Justin opened the door for me and asked "Are you ready?"
"NOPE," I replied, laughing.
We got into the van and buckled our seat belts. Justin took my hand and held it in his as we drove to Avera McKennan Hospital, silently, in the early morning darkness.
