I couldn't believe when I sat down to type this this morning that I haven't done a single new post this entire calendar year! That sure speaks to how insane our year has been!
First, although we've updated like crazy on our Facebook accounts about Benning's first three months with us, I haven't said a word about him on the blog! And because I tend to be [slightly] obsessed with people's birth stories, I thought I would share a little about his.
Rewinding to early March....
I had been cruising along on a great path to what I had assumed would be a full term delivery, just like Harlow's. I was still working out, still working, and growing what I feared would be a humungo newborn because my poor stomach stuck out like a giant torpedo from about ohhhh 26 weeks on.
And then, at 33 weeks, I started to feel funny one day at work. I didn't feel BAD, just off. I called my doctor's office (since they are basically two feet from where I work), and she suggested that I come on in. Lo and behold, I was apparently already contracting and progressing, so she classified me as "threatened preterm labor," put me on a host of medicine to calm everything down, and sent me home for the weekend on bedrest (and with a steroid shot I had to give myself).
Y'all. Can I just be honest and say that I had never in my 8 years of being an RN had to give an IM shot to an adult (hellooooo I work in baby world), and my first EVER to give to an adult was to MYSELF. Hooey. That was nasty and painful and I did some sort of disgusting scream/laugh/cry while I did it and for like fifteen minutes after. I was like, this is it. This is where it ends. With me being a big baby sobbing on the bed convincing myself that my leg is going to fall off from this cursed steroid shot.
But it all worked! The meds calmed down my contractions and slowed my progression, so I was sent back to work with restrictions, told I had a 50/50 chance of having a preemie, and assured that I would DEFINITELY not make it to my due date of 4/28...and probably wouldn't make it to April.
So we waited with bated breath. Week after week, I kept progressing, but he stayed put. Every shift I worked, they told me I wouldn't make it through the twelve hours [and I think the Labor and Delivery girls sometimes kept a room reserved for me! Ha!], but I did. Shift after shift. Day after day. Week after week.
And when we closed in on 39 weeks, I started to panic that this baby was going to be born on the interstate because I had progressed so far. All it was going to take was one final nudge, and he was going to be here. So we scheduled an induction for 4/24--safely within 39 weeks and when my doctor could be there to deliver him.
And wouldn't you know it? I made it all the way to my induction! But I was so far along in the process, it took a broken water, an inch of Pitocin, less than four hours (at 11:59 am) and two contractions of pushing, and Benning Wilde Parker was in my arms.
Oh happy day! He was perfect in every way possible! He was 8 lbs 9oz, which wasn't nearly as big as I'd been afraid of, and he was healthy, crying, and absolutely beautiful. I snuggled him once he'd gotten weighed and while my doctor attempted to finish my delivery and then...
She couldn't get the placenta to come out. She wasn't panicked, but I could tell she was trying to make sure I didn't panic. She told me it was coming out in pieces, but that they were getting it. There was lots of painful stomach mashing, and then she had my nurse call out to the desk for a shot of methergine. I looked at her working away and said, "Am I hemorrhaging?"
"Not yet," she said. "You've lost about 500 mL at this point [0.5 liter], and I just want to make sure you don't lose much more." They quickly came in with the shot, gave it in my leg, and the awful stomach mashing continued. She told me she was going to do a curretage [a D&C without the D], to make sure she got everything, and then mid more stomach mashing, I started seeing stars. I was either going to throw up or pass out, and I was still holding Benning.
"I feel bad," I said, trying to be as loud as I could. "I FEEL BAD," I said again, much louder.
"You do?" my doctor asked. I yelled at Brooks to come over to get Benning, someone tossed me an emesis basin, and I got sick and fell backwards on the bed. Suddenly there was lots of commotion in the room and lots of new people working on me. Someone told me they were going to start another IV. There was a cart by the bed. I heard something about a blood transfusion. More stomach mashing. Lots of pressure and pain. More nausea. Antibiotics were ordered. Something about a balloon and packing.
I looked at the clock and it had already been almost an hour since he'd been born when Brooks finally asked from the couch, "Is she okay?"
They said I was stable now but that I had lost 1500mL of blood [500mL is the preferred max with a non C-section delivery], so clinically, a pretty significant postpartum hemorrhage. She told me that she was glad the balloon [which was placed to hold pressure to stop the bleeding] and packing were working so that I "didn't have to see her surgical skills" that day. Yikes! I was scared and exhausted and felt awful. Because I was now chained to the bed with a drain, a catheter, an epidural, and two IVs, I was told I couldn't go upstairs to postpartum and would remain exactly like I was for the next 24 hours. And for those of you reading who are in the medical field, here is what my schedule looked like:
-Methergine pills every 6 hours to make me contract and stop bleeding [THIS HURT LIKE A WORD I CAN'T SAY ON A CHRISTIAN BLOG]
-IV antibiotics every 8 hours
-hourly fundal massages [AKA a beating to my abdomen]
-a blood transfusion at 1am over 2 hours
-feeding my baby every 3 hours
The pain from the afterbirth contractions was far and away the worst pain of my entire life. It made my toes curl, and I apologize to anyone who was in the room that day and heard me cussing under my breath at the pain. And the only medicine that helps me with that kind of pain [Motrin, I love you], I couldn't have because of all of my bleeding. I was M-I-S-E-R-A-B-L-E all night long. I didn't sleep at all. I couldn't move. I missed Benning's first bath. I couldn't enjoy holding or snuggling him. I couldn't enjoy visiting with my family. And all I could have all night was Sprite [I think I drank like six of them].
Luckily, some of my NICU friends came and "kidnapped" Benning in the middle of the night to snuggle him, so that I could try and rest.
By the 24 hour mark, my doctor freed me from the IVs, drain, packing, and balloon, and even said I could eat [!!!]. I was finally going up to postpartum...buuuuut I still couldn't have my Motrin until another 24 hours had passed, so that meant still lots of pain.
I relished being in a quiet room upstairs. I held Benning as much as I could and enjoyed kissing him and cuddling him. I spent one more night in the hospital, and before Brooks went home to get some sleep, he cleaned me up, washed AND dried my hair with the blow dryer, put me in actual PJs instead of that awful hospital gown, and even spritzed perfume on my wrists-- you know, because he thought it might make me feel better :).
We were home the next day and by the end of the week, I was feeling so much better. (It wasn't all over though...at 9 weeks postpartum on 6/30, I was still having some issues, and they found out from an ultrasound that I STILL had placenta in me more than two months later. I had to have a second D&C that same day. Whew!)
It wasn't at all how I'd expected delivery to go, and I hated that it ruined my ability to enjoy that first day with him, but all's well that ends well. We have a beautiful, healthy boy who NAPS. AND SLEEPS ALL NIGHT LONG. IN HIS CRIB.
And now I'm knocking on every piece of wood I can find ;). But really, he's a delightful, squishy fella. He's busting off the growth charts, smiling and laughing, and already rolling from belly to back and tripod sitting at 3 months!
He is strong and happy, and aside from some nasty spitting up from some reflux, he is an absolute dream. And for those so interested in how we chose his name, we went with a "movie star name" theme. So now we have a Harlow (as in Jean Harlow) and a Benning (as in Annette Bening...just an extra "n"), with Wilde coming from Oscar Wilde. We do call him Benning and not Ben, although Harlow likes to call him "Benny Boo" :).
I get asked all the time how Harlow is doing in her new role as big sister. She's exactly as I thought she would be--fabulous!
She is a little mommy to him. She is great at giving him his pacifier, tries to make him smile when he cries, and her greatest downfall is how slow she is to obey because she can't stop kissing him. We had a few days of "wanting to sit in Mommy's lap like Benning does" and the like, but overall, she has transitioned as well as I knew she would.
She has had an exciting few months herself! Just two weeks or so after becoming a big sister, she took a big girl trip to Rome with her dad, then graduated Pre-K, turned 5, learned how to really ride [and enjoy!] her bike, got her first loose tooth, spent a week in NYC and saw the Statue of Liberty, spent a week in Florida with us, and is now ONE WEEK away from starting Kindergarten. Whew! Where did my baby girl go?
Admittedly, I'm not as excited as I should be for her to start school because I can't believe how fast time is moving. I want her to grow up but I also really, really don't. All of those beautiful baby teeth we worked so hard to cut are about to fall out and make room for those ginormous adult teeth that are likely to grow in crooked and spell the need for braces. She'll be gone every week day. No more sleeping in with leisurely breakfasts together or long hours by the pool watching her perfect her "cannitball." It's finally here: big kid world. Homework and backpacks and addition and subtraction. Dress codes. New friends and teachers. Reading. Early bed times. Oh the things that await! Ready or not, sink or swim, here we come!!
Once we settle into a new routine, I have some personal lessons I've learned that I'd love to find the time to share with you. But until then, we'll keep juggling all the pieces that make up our crazy, exciting, and fun life right on into the fall.
Until next time, arrows....
Xoxo,
Chels
