Hospital, Day 4

I slept. Dr. H came in the next morning and said that my blood was not improving. If it didn't get better in the next few hours, we'd have to consider a blood transfusion. He said I looked very pale.

Oliver arrived, and we had a great nursing session. The next time, though, I couldn't get him to nurse, and he came back from shift change with those formula bottles in his bassinet again. I felt discouraged. I was thinking about that a lot more than I was thinking about my blood. Mom, on the other hand, was ready to take me to a hospital in Charlotte.

LeAnna came to take out my catheter. I was scared this would hurt, but it didn't. My mom later said, “Out is always better than in...except with a baby.” I was worried about getting up all the time to pee because I was still drinking water madly. The first time, Mom placed Oliver in his bassinet, and she and Josh helped me to the bathroom. We laughed ruefully about having done this before. Mom threw away the ice pad and helped me with the peri bottle, and Josh sprayed the Dermoplast. We figured out how to activate another ice pad.

We got Oliver to start nursing again. Mom turned out to be quite the lactation specialist. My dad arrived at some point. The day before had been his birthday, and I felt bad that I didn't have a present and hadn't been able to do anything besides call him and explain my scary sickness to him.

Dr. H returned. He had me stick out my tongue, and it was white. My mom says this was one of the scariest images from the hospital because I clearly wasn't getting better.

Dr. H explained the risks of blood transfusions to me. I don't remember this, but Mom and Josh do. Dr. H looked at Mom and said, “We have to give her this blood.”

“I know,” she answered.

Apparently, I signed the consent form.

LeAnna and another nurse named Meredith brought in the first unit of blood. They read numbers from my bracelet, read dates, and confirmed, “A positive.” My IV had survived getting wet in the shower, and I was relieved that I didn't have to get another. LeAnna and Meredith started the transfusion, and while the transfusion itself didn't bother me, I didn't like the look of the dark red tube. Then, one of the nurses nearly pulled the IV out while moving the blood pressure tower. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I yelled, and the poor nurse was mortified at her mistake. After that, I held the tube close and didn't let it near the floor or other equipment or people. Meredith and LeAnna had to sit and watch me for thirty minutes to make sure I didn't have a reaction. Apparently, heart failure was a possibility.

But I was fine, and Mom had to roll the IV tower into the bathroom so that I could pee. The transfusion took a long time, and I felt a lot of pressure in my arm. My blood pressure rose.

Then, I had a second unit of blood, and the nurses had to watch me again. Mom rolled the tower into the bathroom again. Nurses and other staff members kept coming in and saying, “You look so much better!” I'd just smile and point to the blood bag above my head. Some would nod knowingly, and others would look a bit mortified. Josh saw the pediatrician Dr. R in the cafeteria. She asked how we were doing, and he told her about the transfusion. She looked stricken. Several hours later, my transfusion was finished. The bags of blood hadn't looked very big, but I realized that it was a lot of blood.

Soon after the transfusion, I was ready to shower. The night before, Mom had gone to Food Lion. She'd bought laundry detergent and washed Josh's clothes late at night at the hotel. She'd also gotten hair barrettes, a nice razor and girly shaving cream (which Josh had used that morning to shave his face so that he could finally kiss Oliver without worrying about scratching him with his rough whiskers), chamomile and white tea face cloths (which she used to clean my face—so soothing), and kid's detangling spray.

I said, “I think I want to wear my own clothes and my own underwear and my own pads.”

Everyone looked rather amazed. The transfusion was already working.

Josh gathered everything, and we went into the bathroom (he was wearing his swim trunks again). We threw away those ridiculous mesh panties. We kicked the irritating sitz bath (which I had used once, failing to see the point of wasting my energy sitting up to use it) to the side, and I showered with my back to the water. Josh still held me, but he didn't really have to. I put on my own overnight pad, my own comfy maternity underwear, and my own gray nursing pajamas. I was so glad I'd brought all that. Back in bed, I sat up, and with the detangling spray, quickly brushed my hair and put it in barrettes. My dad held my tray while I ate dinner.

Josh's mom; sister, Sarah; and sister's boyfriend, Adam came to visit. I'm amazed so many people could fit in the room. I was, I think, cheery and energetic. But after a while (probably a few minutes), I started to get tired. The night nurse, Pam, came in to examine me. Our guests stepped into the hall. Every nurse would check my bleeding and swelling, have me squeeze her hands, check my reflexes, check my legs for blood clots, and feel for my fundus (the top of my uterus), which was getting lower and lower. Most nurses and even doctors pressed gently on my belly. Pam didn't. I cried out and then wept. She said, “I'm sorry, honey, but this is better than us having to dig out clots later.” This, of course, scared the hell out of me. Josh's family had probably heard me from the hall. Though Pam was rough, she was also serious. She said, “Honey, you have been through it.” We had no doubt that she had read my chart. My mom liked her.

I couldn't really recover after that pain, though. Josh's folks came back in, and I basically held onto my mother and cried. Susan ushered everyone out soon. They had all been so nice. Sarah and Adam had brought tiny cowboy boots.

I asked Pam about a sleeping pill, and she said, “After what you've been through, I want to see your chest rising and falling when I come in.” This seemed reasonable, and I thought that since I'd slept once, I could probably do it again. Pam instructed me to rub my belly hard in the bathroom to keep the blood flowing normally (which I did to avoid her doing it), and she told me to get up every two hours. If I didn't get up often enough, I might not realize how badly I was bleeding. She brought me my Percocet but warned me that I may not go home with anything. Since even Tylenol wasn't on my chart, though, I kept taking that Percocet.

My blood work showed a great rebound. My levels weren't optimal, but they were much closer to normal. I let Oliver go back to the nursery again; I knew I'd need my energy for him if we got to go home the next day.