The day the world changed (or at least mine did!)

It was a Wednesday, early November and I was done being in the hospital. I was done having an annoying IV in my arm. I was done being awaken every couple of hours. I was done writing down every sip of water I took and every visit to the little girl's room. I was done being cooped up in my little room. I was done preparing for a surgery that felt as it would never come. So I woke up November third around sixish am and awaited for the day to begin. I must confess I felt like a prisoner and wanted out. I woke up had my vitals checked (which had just happened two hours before) and had my finger pricked yet again to check my blood sugar. Praying that it would be normal range. I wasn't allowed to eat so if it was "too low" I would have to await an IV solution of sugar water because I had to be "stable" to travel down the hall to my morning ritual of an ultra sound. And if it was too high I got to be poked again with a needle ( I hate shots and was SO tired of feeling like a pin cushion) for insulin. But it was within the okay range. YAY. I then slid into my tweety bird slippers to take the three steps to where I would be weighed. So much fun! And then back to bed after a quick run to the little girl's room. Once back in bed I was in the time window to order my breakfast that could come within ten minutes up to two hours. I had to order then as I did not know when transport would come to pick me up nor when I would return and there was only a limited amount of time when orders were accepted. And then I just wait...and wait...Yay the wheelchair has arrived. Let's hit the halls. And away we go. As I did not have a true appointment I would be wheeled into the back entrance and left to sit and wait until the technician was available. There is this paranoid feeling that no one would see me and I would be forgotten. (Twice I waited for over ten minutes in the back lobby by myself. So I feel this was a justified feeling.) Now my description of this morning sounds bitter, because I was. I was hungry, exhausted, worried, frustrated, and felt trapped. My world was upside down in chaos and I did not have permission to correct it. Nothing felt as if it was in my control. My hubby and I had thought through his schedule and he had taken off three days in a row based on our conversations with our doctors upon our son's arrival. This was my first morning by myself after that nice stretch of having someone else "experience" this journey and it is a lot easier to handle as a team. Then being the character who must travel alone. I was wheeled back for my daily ultrasound and while gritting tears in my frustrated state I climbed upon the table to begin our morning ritual. They pour gel, cover me with a sheet, make small chat, push around wand on my tummy, and they say everything looks good or at least about the same as yesterday, Couple of pictures, will call transport, and the doctor will be in shortly to see you. Yadda yadda yadda. About a twelve minute drill. Ten minutes in we aren't really making small talk as that has faded. Actually the technician is squinting at her screen. She then asks me to flip all around the table (side, back, jiggle, other side, back) and she begins to wrinkle her brow and purse her lips muttering that my son still had a little more to show to "pass his daily test". Every other morning he had shown what they needed within five minutes. My frustration washed away as that cold drop of fear begins to travel through the veins. That my threatening tears spilled over and down my face. As I offered prayers of surrender and apology for working myself into an agitated state and begged to God Please just keep my son healthy. After thirty minutes of trying to catch my son's movements and breathing. I was whisked to a new room for what the called a non-stress test. The wrap a belly band around my stomach to measure my son's heartbeats and output of rhythms . The technician said the beeps were good. I didn't hear any. All sounds had drained away accept my own heartbeat in my ears and the wailing scream this isn't happening and the rushing whoosh of reassurance this is just precautions everything will be okay. For ten minutes those two thoughts swirled around my mind and followed up with I want my hubby. They then took my blood pressure and it was rising quickly and steadily from my morning checks. The technicians then moved me into another room. I still did not know what was going on. The doctor then came to see me. I liked this doctor he stopped the middle of the night blood sugar check/crashes. He reported that my 24 hour urine test from the day before showed a 250% increase of protein which wasn't good as I started at an already high level. My blood pressure numbers were continuing to rise. And my son was starting to show slight distress. He then said my surgery would be scheduled for early afternoon as soon as the doctor gets out of the delivery she is already handling. I stopped him and asked him to clarify, was I having my baby today? He nodded and responded that it was time. My womb was no longer considered the best place for my son to grow, flourish, and thrive. I was only twenty-nine weeks and my son's odds were viewed better in the world than what I could provide. The doctor stepped out and I called my husband. I went to the numb place and tried to not panic. My husband was caught off guard every day we had been prepped and prepared for this news. But you can only hear the same thing over and over so many times until you become a little indifferent. We knew the risks but felt it was only a mantra at this point as we had repeated this journey seven times over. But no fire drill, today was the real deal, the full boogie woogie. I was wheeled to my room and put immediately to bed as I waved good-bye to the breakfast I would never get to taste. I was strapped to the monitor to hear my son's strong healthy heartbeat. Probably to world's most reassuring sound especially that morning. I then was wisked to prepare for surgery. Surgery? Still seemed so foreign as the roughest procedures I had endured included shots and throat cultures. I was wrapped in bracelets, hooked up to medicines, and watched my family parade in and out the door. I wasn't scared. Iwasn't even nervous. Peaceful and numb (possibly the drugs, most likely the prayers). They wheeled me away after a final word and wave and wishes of good luck. Once again I was on my own. My husband had to wait until I was "ready". He stood in his house painter overall scrubs and prepared for the unknown. The team inflated my raft so I could move from one gurney to the operating table (brilliant invention and though it might be used for everyone it helps this heavy person feel supported and not abandoned) and helps ease everyone in this adrenaline high moment. The epidural was applied and we played announce where you feel the prickly. And then all of a sudden the room spun, I announced that it was spinning and all of sudden fell back. My blood pressure had been so high that it began to crash (the doctors had prepared me for this possibility). But do you know how weird it is to feel like you're falling when you are already lying down. Oxygen was whisked to my face and I had to struggle to keep conversation with the nurse. The team got me stable and then they sent for my hubby. I agreed that's a good idea as we need to get this puppy started. The team laughed and informed me that they had already started. Seriously? I could feel tugs at my stomach but felt it was like bandages or blankets being swirled around above me. My husband comes into the room panting as he was told to hurry and had ran the whole way. He might have been in the room for two minutes when we both heard it. The cry of a baby. Not any baby. Our son, it was official , we were parents. And though the cries sounded so far away it was the most beautiful clear sound in all the world. Our son already had doctors and nurses attending to him knowing he was born extremely premature. He came out hand first (yes you read that correctly) weighing 3 lbs. 11 oz. and 17 inches long . Gorgeous, head full of hair, and healthy. Praise God! I caught a glimpse as they wheeled him away to be attended to and they continued to put this Humpty Dumpty back together again. I had a horrible cough but was terrified of the repercussions. I announced my need to cough and sure enough a drill sergeant of a nurse told me to swallow it. Yes ma'am. No problem. The doctor finally gave me permission. My son was admitted to the NICU and was released after forty-four days. We both came out healthier than expected. I healed fairly well and quickly. My son conquered milestones left and right. I came face to face with a nightmare but was surprised by the results. Getting healthy means even more to me now. I was blessed with such gifts, a healthy son and the chance to see him grow but that means I need to once again embrace the HealthFULL Journey. So once again I seek out the trail that will help me to embrace my life FULLy and share it with those I am blessed to have in my life. It is time to re-evaluate goals, actions, the stepping stones, and how combined they all equal results. I invite you to Fully Understand Life by Living. I have only started this journey but let me tell you it will rock your world and everything you knew. But the view is amazing. Please join me in your own HealthFULL Journey. 'Til we meet again . . .

The Elephant Stomp to Wheelie Jaunts

Oh what a whirlwind has surrounded me as of late. The day after I wrote my last post in October my life went into turbo drive. The morning after my post my feet swelled to uncomfortable proportions. I entitled this the elephant stomp because that is what I felt like walking. Barely could I lift my feet off the ground and no longer did I have ankles. My feet were connected to my calves. No indent for an ankle. Now when you're pregnant a little swelling especially in the final trimester is pretty common. Feet that swell five times their normal size with no reduction at night (after sleeping with feet up) not a common occurrence. I ran late to work as I wobbled on my bubble feet, as each stomping step caused discomfort, and I could not find any shoes that would fit my feet. I ended up using flip flops in late October as they were the only things that I could slip on (and even they left an indentation on my feet). I arrived at work in pain as my feet continued to swell (yes they got even bigger) and I believe I was out of skin. I called my doctor to just ask if there was an opening for an appointment. No they were booked, no big deal, I am probably just being an over paranoid first time pregnant lady. And as I hobbled back to my cubicle I decided that even if I was being paranoid I should chat with a nurse. So I called back the doctor's office (I NEVER DO THIS!)No opening = no appointment and definitely no pestering. I chatted with the nurse and we agreed maybe I should stop by as soon as possible. I arrived at the doctor's and stepped on the scale. I had gained eleven pounds in two weeks, not a good sign. (and trust me that was not after enjoying three pizzas a day). Next strike my blood pressure was in the mid nineties as my BOTTOM number...oh that's not good. And my swelling could be pressed leaving an indent still after trying to put up my feet for four hours.....And we're out. I was put on bed rest immediately and for the remainder of my pregnancy (I was only twenty seven weeks along!!!) with the promise to be back in to check my progress in less than four days. I hobbled/stomped my wait out of the doctor's office to begin my mending as quickly as possible (after sharing the news with my family and work). I arrived for my quickie appointment to check my vitals and my doctor sat down. I gulped. This was too be just a nurse appointment to jot down my stats. So seeing a doctor at all was not a good sign. My doctor informed me that I was about to like her even less. (I had gained five pounds in four days...and blood pressure slight rise which means bed rest wasn't helping). I was to be admitted into the hospital overnight starting immediately. What?!?!?!? I have never even had stitches let alone a night over in the hospital. Oh this was not good at all!!!! How does one pack for an undetermined stay in the hospital? My doctor gave me false cheer that it might be for just a couple days. I think she understood my fear and figured this was the easiest way to lure me at least to the hospital. My other doctors' opinions did not agree that it was a short two maybe three night stay. I was admitted to the high risk floor (which should have been a clue that I would be in the hospital for awhile). I learned a few things quickly about myself. I do not like be to be limited (to bed, restricted diet, and that I am not nearly as much of a hermit as I once believed.) Also I am a horrible stick for IVs. Didn't know, because I had never had one. Only once out of six "attempts" was I able to get a sturdy IV on the first try. As I was on strict bed rest I was not able to leave my room without doctor orders and then transport was arranged when needed. This is when I got to travel by wheel chair for my daily ultra sounds to check on our baby boy and make sure he was thriving. After being admitted to the hospital it was confirmed that I had severe pre-eclampsia which is why I and my son required the daily check. My medical team was trying everything possible to keep my son in the womb for as long as possible as long as we were both healthy. Upon my first ultra sound it looked like we would deliver within as little as three days, hoping to get use of the steroids. My husband and I were on board for whatever we could do to delay our son's arrival. We have witnessed and been close to several families who were blessed with early miracles and realized and appreciated the significance of every day that we could delay his arrival. But if I am being honest I was getting antsy for his arrival as I was going stir crazy in my little hospital room. My days in the hospital started with a weighing, makes you just want to jump out of bed, right? (Although I did lose most of my pregnancy weight as I lost twenty-three pounds in nine days with very little movement, as you can tell I was carrying a LOT of water weight!) I then would order my breakfast but couldn't eat until I after my ultra-sound in case this would be the day I would have to deliver. I would wait for transport and then travel down the halls on my wheelie jaunts (the only time I left my hospital room except for one pre-approved wheelchair walk with my hubby on my eighth day in the hospital - I felt like the little piggy who squealed Wee Wee all the way home!) would have the ultra-sound check and then would go back to my room and finally get to eat breakfast. Then hang out in my room the rest of the day and have my stats checked every four hours (with quite a few visitors = thank you to all those who helped quicken the minutes). Then at midnight I would be cut off from all liquids and foods as I might be going into surgery the next morning I did this for nine days. By the ninth day I was ready to stage a coup. I was going home and was ready to fight the doctors as I felt my sanity was on the brink of major decline. However the doctors had other plans as I was informed that this would be the day the world would be meeting my son. I'll catch you up on his arrival and the journey aftermath that includes a happy ending. I am finally starting to feel as if I am just beginning to Fully Understand Life by Living. May 2011 challenge you and bless you. 'Til we meet again. . .