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3-2-10 – Part 9 – Complications
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
I couldn’t believe I had a baby that big inside of me and now outside. Days later in the Nursery (Steamboat’s scaled down version of a N.I.C.U.) women would stare at me in disbelief.
SHE had THAT baby?! Finn outweighed all the babies in the Nursery by at least double their weight. One pair of twins together still weighed less than he did.
I would come to believe his size and weight in the days to come. While the hospital’s nursing staff for babies took Finn’s measurements, I leaned back and rested a bit, listening to Dale shout out length and head size. He was 21 ¾ inches long
and had a 15 inch head.
Dr. Leslie told me it was time to push my placenta out, and I told her she would have to help me. My pushing capacity was depleted. So she helped a lot, more than I even remember. What I do remember was the slight massage/pushing the nurse did on my collapsed stomach and Dale commenting on the amount of blood that came out of me.
*** Warning Real Life Details ***
The blood filled a plastic tub, along with my placenta that Dr. Leslie held up to show me and Dale. She showed us where Finn had lived, how his umbilical cord had been attached. My placenta was enormous. Dale was so fascinated he even took a picture (I’ll spare you, but we found it awfully amazing) to remember how large it was. For those interested it was about the size of a large cereal box, and super thick. That’s partly the cause for the events that immediately followed.
***
I lost about a liter of blood in that moment. Only a few minutes later, after Leslie had sewed me up (I only felt a few pricks, pretty good considering I had a 2nd degree tear), I remember feeling very very thick, like the air around me had been injected with cotton. I turned to the nurse beside me.
“I’m having trouble breathing,” I gasped out. She quickly put an oxygen mask over my face. I felt like someone had put a boulder on my chest.
Instantly, there were about five nurses around me. In that moment hospital intervention seemed like a really good idea. They put a (painful) IV into my arm. In went two more injections, one pitocin to make my uterus contract, the other I’ve forgotten. As the nurse told me I was getting some pitocin, I almost said,
“Wait, no, I don’t want any drugs! Pitocin will make my contractions stronger,” before I realized I wasn’t in labor anymore. Realizing Finn was out, I laid back and relaxed.
I remember hearing Dale hold baby Finn, walking him around the room, telling him I was going to be okay. I even smiled knowing Finn was in good hands, thankful that I had a husband by my side as my complications surged. He held Finn for almost an hour. To hear Dale talking to Finn, to hear him happy, to know Finn was safe and healthy I didn’t even care what happened to me. Hearing Dale tell me he thought Finn was cute (MUCH cuter than the 3-D sonogram had indicated) and so nice and symmetrical made me feel wonderful.
For those next 20 minutes, I was even more grateful that we had decided to birth Finn in the hospital. Later one nurse would tell me, “You gave us a scare!”
But, I felt so serene in that moment, not afraid I was going to die, very trusting that the nurses knew what they were doing. One nurse would lecture me later that I was a perfect example of why they insist on an IV port upon hospital admittance.
“I’m glad I didn’t let you do that port!” I emphasized again, “If I had a port in my arm I would not have been able to enjoy my husband’s support.” I went on to explain Dale’s vasovagal response. The nurse walked around the counter where she had been standing and gave me a big hug.
“I hadn’t thought about it like that before,” she admitted.
After a long afternoon of waiting for some food, I got to nurse Finn. He took a few minutes to figure out what to do, but when he latched on I was so proud of him. The first time he sucked I was blown away by how strange it felt for such a little person to have such a strong tug. After hearing how hard nursing was for friends I expected it to be a lot harder. It wasn’t, just amazing and surprisingly not painful.
Finn already felt ENORMOUS to me, like he had skipped the infant stage. He did not seem helpless or weak. Whereas I felt both of those. He nursed for about an hour.
Because of my weakened state (not just the labor, but now a liter of blood missing), Dale and I decided to put Finn in the nursery for the evening. They brought him to me for his feedings. At midnight he nursed well, as I learned the football hold and how to nurse him in bed. My nurse, B, gave me such a helpful tool, “Nursing should feel like a tug, not a pinch.” That was the number one best tip I got. It took me about 10 minutes to get him latched on, but once he did, he ate really well. Such a rewarding experience.
*** Warning: Real Life Details ***
Around midnight I had to prove that I did not need a catheter by peeing on my own. I’ve got to admit that a day of labor, even only 6 hours, had done a number on my bathroom skills. I couldn’t believe how swollen and out of control my own body felt. It was like I had forgotten how to pee. I tried to remember what I had read in one of my birthing books, A Girlfriend’s Guide to Pregnancy, “Your body will go back to normal, it just will take time.”
They did a sonogram-like test to verify that yes, I had enough of a full bladder to pee and since my uterus was having a slightly hard time contracting down the nurses who watched me that evening, B and J, insisted on my proving that I could empty my own bladder. They wanted my bladder as small as possible to make room for my uterus.
Waiting, sitting on the toilet, was the longest I had sat up since delivering Finn. I slowly felt all my energy leaking out of my body. I knew I was about to black out and thinking how this would REALLY prove I needed a catheter, I used the last bit of strength to ask for my Recharge (a natural version of Gatorade).
Dale came running and as I sucked in the cool grape liquid I felt focus returning to my body. It was like drinking liquid strength. That helped me stand up and get back into bed (with their help).
Eventually, I tried again and with the help of some peppermint oil (did you know smelling it can induce the peeing urge?) I peed. Everyone hurrahed me and B and J were full of congratulations. I felt like I had surmounted the final challenge.
Little did I know.
***
That was the last time I would really be focused on my own body as the number one priority. I fed Finn again around 2:30am and we were so quiet and smooth about it that Dale didn’t even wake up.
At 5 am the following morning the head nurse technician in the Nursery woke me up to tell me that Finn had given the staff a scare that night.
The nursery had been quite crowded (something about the barometric pressure) and J, the nurse who had the bright idea of peppermint oil , had decided to hold Finn, instead of leaving him with the host of other babies in the nursery.
While J was holding him, she noticed his nostrils flare up. Finn seemed to be having trouble breathing so she called B (pictured here with me and Finn) over in concern as they watched his body turn blue. They rushed him into the Nursery and M (a nurse I would get to meet later and thank) put to use her years of high risk NICU training in a New York City hospital on Finn’s troubled little body.
She got him breathing again, they stabilized him, but not without the aid of a tube down his throat and an IV. On hearing this news, I initially felt just enormous relief that we had put him in the nursery and that he had gotten the care he needed. What if he had turned blue while in our room and I and Dale too wiped out to notice?
But when I heard that they wanted to hold him for at least 48 more hours to start him on antibiotics, I felt my heart sink. In the morning Dale went to see him, and they had a tube down his throat in his stomach to pump any excess air out. Finn was gagging on the tube and did not like it one bit. Knowing now how chill of a baby he is (e.g. He didn’t cry during his circumcision), I know he must have been very uncomfortable.
In the days to come I would record in Voice Memos (my carpal tunnel had again flared up so that typing was making it worse) how difficult the days in the hospital became. I would stay to watch Finn as he moved through three IVs (one in his head), oxygen nodes for his nose, that tube down his throat, 48 hours on the Bili Bed
, multiple tests, circumcision, unknown results, hopefulness that he’d be released and then feeling disappointed that he wouldn’t be. Another five days of antibiotics.
He seemed so strong, how could they still hold him as a sick baby? It hurt to see his arms bruised by the IV, his chest tattooed with sticky strips monitoring his heart.
In the days following, I never went home. I couldn’t stand the thought of returning to my cabin and leaving Finn. I’m so thankful the hospital had room for me to room-in those days. The times I got with him kept me focused on recovering myself and staying healthy enough to feed him. In one fun moment, he grabbed my hair and made us all smile. 
Look at that strong arm!
Read Final Post “Unfailing Love”
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
May 14th, 2010 at 12:29 am
Jonalyn I have really enjoyed reading about Finn’s birth. It sounds just about perfect until the complications arose. So glad to read that everyhing has since been fine and you are both healthy. I know all too well what it’s like to watch your baby be poked and proded, with needles, IV’s, procedures, etc. SO happy it was short term for you and Finn!!
May 16th, 2010 at 1:38 pm
I’m glad that you are breastfeeding and ave learned that it isn’t painful at all. In fact those who have told you it was weren’t doing it right because it shouldn’t hurt at all. I’m also very glad that little Finn is healthy, happy and home with his parents. God Bless the three of you.
May 21st, 2010 at 11:10 am
Brandi – It’s nice to know you get how hard it was! Thanks for writing in.
Lizzy – thank you!