Hospital, Day 2

After my D and C, I'd been so terribly cold that I kept asking for more blankets. Claudia got me some straight from the warmer and even wrapped one around my head. I wasn't the only cold one; my stepfather put on the Gap pullover I'd brought. The next day, I kept all my blankets except the headdress.

Dr. W came in early. She had quite an on-call stretch. I don't remember much of what she said. I know I asked if I had stitches, and she said I had just a few, a couple below and one or two above. I guess she must have done the stitches after the D and C. I remember that she hugged me. Later, I would think about what a difficult line she'd had to walk, making such rough decisions between helping me and helping Oliver. To my uneducated mind, she made the best possible choice at each point, and she stayed calm and soft-spoken though she was scared.

The NICU nurse brought Oliver to us early and put him right back in my arms. She had bought a blue and white knit hat for him. One of the nurses was making and selling them for United Way. She said it was a little big, and she might buy him another.

I realized how much I had missed, and I felt a little sad about it. I said to Josh, “I guess everyone has held him?”

Josh looked at me and said firmly, “No. No one has held him but you.”

That made me relax a bit. That was mine.

I wasn't allowed to nurse because I was still on mag, and Oliver didn't need any more of that. Tiny formula bottles and nipples were in his bassinet, and we had instructions to feed him every three hours. That proved to be much more difficult than we imagined. Oliver was either very sleepy or not at all interested in the bottle. When we smelled what was inside, we could hardly blame him.

My mom arrived, wearing a blue-gray, silky shawl against the coolness of the room. She was excited to see that we had Oliver. “Can I hold him?” she asked.

I paused and said, “Josh hasn't held him.” I hadn't thought about it before. Mom was surprised Josh hadn't held him. So I had Josh come take him and sit in the recliner. I was glad I was just with it enough to protect Josh's right and feelings.

Mom struggled along with Josh to try to get Oliver to take the bottle. They managed 20 or 30 milliliters, about a third to half the bottle. I kept telling Oliver that I would give him the real deal as soon as I could. As the day went on, I started getting sad that I couldn't nurse him. I didn't feel like I was being his mother at all. This feeling increased when Josh went to take a shower, and Mom asked, “When was the last time you checked his diaper?”

I was blank. I hadn't even figured out how to unwrap his swaddle enough to see anything but his face. I'd barely lifted his hat to see his hair. Luckily, I was too out of it to feel really guilty or incompetent.

Mom checked him and said he needed a change. She asked if I wanted to do it, and I looked at my encumbered and weak arms.

“I think Josh would like to do it,” I said.

Mom didn't want to wait, though, and risk a diaper rash, so I told her to go ahead. She's a very in-the-trenches grandmother. I made sure to tell Josh that I'd thought of him.

Since Mom had to figure out the complicated swaddle, I finally got to see more of my baby. He was wearing a preemie diaper and a white, long-sleeved T-shirt. His hands disappeared completely because the shirt was so big. The skin on his legs was wrinkly because he was so thin. I noticed that his right arm was stiff, and I asked Mom why.

“That's his IV board,” she said.

I tried not to think too much about this and asked her to pop off one of his socks, so I could see his foot. I expected to see Josh's fat toes but saw my long, thin, flexible ones instead. I had already seen that Oliver did inherit Josh's pretty, smirking mouth.

The nursery nurses came to get Oliver frequently, either for shift change or because we were all too incompetent to feed him well. We saw him often, though. He did come back with a new hat at one point. I asked one of the nurses to help Josh figure out how to feed him, and she offered some techniques that actually seemed to work.

I had no interest in eating, but I did have another grape Popsicle. Claudia had left, and my daytime nurse told me that I needed to start eating, so I could have pain medication. That changed my attitude, and I ordered a bagel with cream cheese. This seemed inoffensive. It arrived quickly, and Mom feed it to me bit by bit. That was the most massive and overwhelming bagel I have ever encountered. I started calling it the loaves and fishes bagel. I felt like I had never really eaten before. But I finished it, and I got a half dose of IV medication, which made me a little extra out of it. We hadn't yet figured out that the mag was the main culprit making me so senseless. We thought it was still the anesthesia. I'm sure that contributed, but the nurse later told us that I would feel so much better once I got off the mag that night.

Josh put my wooly green socks, which I call my Grinch Feet, on me and sometimes rubbed my heels with body butter. They were dry and raw from the sheets. Eventually, I started asking Josh or Mom to bend my knees a little and turn my feet inward. I could move them, but the blankets were heavy, and I was worried about the catheters.

I remember my dad and Susan coming back. I think Shane may have come back too. The day is so blurry. Yes, I think he did come back because James was there at some point. Everyone got to hold Oliver. Susan had brought flowers, balloons, and a gift bag full of junk food. I drank some Dr. Pepper. At lunchtime, I tackled an endless roast beef sandwich. The hugeness of it outweighed my excitement over being able to eat lunch meat. I accepted a full dose of the IV medication, and Mom turned down the lights in hopes that I'd sleep. I was still so anxious, though, and every though I had with my eyes closed was the beginning of a nightmare.

Then, Mom had an idea. My mostly useless arms were tucked under the blankets. She bent over the bed and held Oliver right next to me, his face near mine.

“Mamas are good medicine for babies, and babies are good medicine for mamas,” she said.

I hadn't been that close to him. I nuzzled him (mostly his hat, I think), and finally smelled him. He smelled like any recently bathed baby, but something sparked in my brain with the scent and said, This is my baby. I felt completely activated then and desperate to care for him. But I just reveled in the nearness. Mom says his breathing slowed, and we both relaxed. Josh had gone to get lunch, and he seemed struck when he came back in and saw this scene. He took a photo. I was so grateful to my mom for thinking to do this. I wouldn't have even thought to ask, but it was just what I needed, and I'm sure Oliver needed it too. The thought of his needing me is still surreal.

While Mom, Shane, James, and Dad went to get lunch, someone came to take my blood. I was already covered with bruises. I was completely out of tolerance for pain, even needle sticks. She stuck me twice before giving up and sending someone else. This second girl, who was wearing black scrubs with green Tinkerbell silhouettes, came in confident. I said, “Is that Tinkerbell?” and focused on her scrubs. She got me the first time. Still, I felt completely petrified. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone hurting me, and I was sick of hurting being synonymous with helping. I wanted my mother.

When she came back, I told her about the three sticks and held onto her. Then, the Tinkerbell girl came in again. I don't think I made any attempt to disguise the horror on my face.

“I know, you don't want to see me again,” she said.

This time, she couldn't get a vein either. She dug. Mom was getting pissed. I don't know how many tries it took.

When the IV medication really kicked in, I was loopy. Dr. C, the now-doctor on call, came in. I had seen him before and usually liked his matter-of-fact manner. But with the medication, he seemed to a appear as a harshly-lit cardboard cut-out with a booming voice and abrupt manner...something like the great and powerful Oz. He told me that I'd be off the mag around 6 as twenty-four hours is the limit, and after observation, I'd move to a regular OB room. Mom asked how long I would be staying, and he said something like, “As long as she needs to.” He then looked at Josh and said, “Having babies isn't like it is in the movies, is it?”

I did a little better with my turkey sandwich at dinner time, and I switched to Percocet. I was glad that this was one of my options because I'd had it after one of my other surgeries, and it made me feel alert rather than groggy.

I had a sponge bath, which was soothing though it mostly just spread sweat and oil around and did nothing for the massive bird's nest that was my hair. I couldn't get a full bed change since I couldn't get up, but I got new blankets and pillowcases. Because I was unconsciously having some incontinence (and not the more acceptable kind...though I'm sure I would have had both if not for the catheter), I had to roll onto my side for clean up, which was particularly unpleasant with the soreness and with two catheters trailing out and taped to my thighs.

The nurse could now empty my uterine catheter with a small cup, so the bleeding had decreased significantly. Most people hate urinary catheters, but I was grateful for mine. I could drink gallons of water without worrying about how I'd get to the bathroom. My daytime nurse had been very busy with someone in the next room most of the day, so I hadn't had as much ice as I did at night, and my swelling didn't improve very much. Claudia returned for the night shift, and she told me that Dr. C wanted her to remove my catheter, but my swelling meant I might just have to get another. She spoke to him, and he said the catheter could stay.

Claudia's next job was to remove the uterine balloon. She would first drain half the fluid from it and see how my bleeding responded. If that went okay, she would drain the rest and remove the balloon. I was so nervous about this, afraid it would hurt. But I barely felt the first draining.

By then, Claudia had stopped the mag, and we had grown used to my IV beeping frantically at intervals all day. I started feeling like I could think. My bleeding was okay, so Claudia drained the rest of the fluid from the balloon. I felt the rubber slide out, but it didn't hurt. I was so relieved.

After watching my bleeding for a while, Claudia asked if I'd like to try to take a shower. This concept was rather incredible to me.

“I can take a shower with a catheter?”

“Sure.”

“How?”

“Well...it's like a purse.”

I wanted to be clean. I knew that a shower would either be a fantastic idea because I'd feel more human and less disgusting (since I was finally becoming a tiny bit aware of my body and appearance), or it would be a horrible idea because I'd try to hard, hurt myself, and pay for it. I decided to try.

Mom fished out my face wash and my marshmallow shampoo/body wash. I asked her to get my razor.

“Don't you think that's a bit ambitious?”

“Just for under my arms,” I said. I couldn't imagine ever shaving my legs again.

When we were packing our hospital bags, I'd asked Josh to bring his swim trunks. I'd seen this on a packing list. So Josh, with only slight mortification, put on crazy beachy swim trunks and got the water going in the shower.

“I hope this is a good idea,” I said to Claudia.

“I think it is,” she answered.

Mom held Oliver while Josh and Claudia helped me out of bed. The sitting up was okay. Claudia said, “Here's my arm. I'm not going to pull you, but you pull on me if you need to.” That seemed like one of the most supportive sentences anyone had ever spoken to me. Once I was sitting up, I rested. Then, I was able to stand. I bent forward far, and my legs didn't straighten, but I was able to hobble with Claudia and Josh on either side of me.

The bathroom was large and all shower with a toilet in the corner. I got out of my gown and socks, and Claudia handed me my catheter bag, which was a bit like an old woman's purse. She had me hang it on the shower faucet. Then, she stepped out, and Josh helped me. I stood facing the water, which I don't normally do, but I knew I wouldn't be able to lean back. Josh held me under my arms while I washed my face and hair. I didn't try to wash my body, but I did manage a bit with the razor. When I finished, I knew the shower hadn't been a great one, but I was glad I'd tried.

Claudia came back and had me sit on the toilet while she and Josh dried me and dressed me in a clean gown. She put tan hospital socks on me. We crept back into the room, and she put me in a wheelchair. My hair was ridiculous, and she asked if I had a brush. She spent the next twenty minutes brushing my hair with a little travel brush while Josh packed up the room. She told me about her twin boys and said that soon, all of this would be a distant memory, and I'd just be enjoying my son.

A nursery nurse came to get Oliver. She said I would be able to try nursing the next day since the mag would have been out of my body long enough. Claudia warned me that I would be on my own in the OB hall. I didn't understand what that meant until later.

Claudia wheeled me past the nurse's station and pressed a button. The lullaby Josh and I had heard when we got to the ER on Sunday morning (just the morning before!) began to play.

“This plays throughout the hospital to let everyone know you've had your baby. We usually play it when someone leaves since we're a little busy when the baby is actually born. We certainly were with you.”

I told her about hearing it when I arrived, and I settled into the wheelchair to listen. Whatever else had happened, I had had my baby.

The OB room was tiny. Claudia had told me the bed would be more comfortable, and it was. She and an OB nurse named Levy helped me into it. Claudia told Levy that my legs were very weak. The room was just big enough for the bed, a sink, a recliner, two wooden chairs, a table on wheels, and the door to the bathroom. This looked like a normal hospital room. Claudia had said, “Now, you'll be like all other women postpartum.” That wasn't quite true.

I grasped Claudia's hand as she left. She had been enormously kind to me.

Levy and a CNA cleaned me and changed my ice pad. I noticed that I had something like a puppy pad under me. I had seen the peri bottle by the sink. I knew what that was from reading so much online about delivery and postpartum care.

Mom left to go to her hotel. She was exhausted and said she would sleep until she woke up and then come over. Josh and I called the nursery and had Oliver over for about an hour. I still had the IV in my arm, but it wasn't attached to anything. The blood pressure cuff was gone, and the pulse/oxygen monitor was off my finger. I could hold my baby up close to me. The shower had proved to be a good idea, and the mag's effects were really fading.

After the nursery nurse came back for Oliver, Josh and I tried to sleep. Josh's narcolepsy kicked in hard, and he was completely gone. I got hungry and managed to get him to bring me the bag of junk food. I felt ridiculous, eating peanut M&Ms and potato chips and drinking Dr. Pepper in a dark hospital bed while Josh stumbled around out of his mind. Later, I got him to put my water on a chair next to the bed, so I wouldn't have to ask him for it.

Because having the ice packs again had clearly helped my swelling, I called the nurse every two hours for a new one. I had started rotating and shifting my hips in bed, a weird exercise instinct, and the nurses and CNAs were surprised by how well I could push up when they changed my ice pads. I didn't realize, though, that no one would keep track of my pain medicine for me, and I would suffer for that the next day. I should have listened to Claudia.