Adele's Hospital Story

Here are way too many details, if you're interested.

Adele started coming the same way Jude did -- with about a week of small but regular contractions at home, keeping me from sleeping much and driving me crazy. After five days of this, I called the doctor to move my check up closer so he could tell me if I was progressing. My c-section was scheduled for the following Wednesday, and because it was a planned cesarean, they usually want to take the baby before hard labor starts.

In the office, I met with a different doctor because mine was on vacation. (Great timing, yes?) I was 38 weeks that day, and had dilated 2.5 cm. After checking my cervix, the doctor hummed and hawed, trying to decide if we should move up my surgery. And then he said, "Well how bad is it?" like he was leaving part of the decision up to me. I told him I was extremely uncomfortable, but I'd rather not have the baby before my mom gets into town, and I saw the benefit of letting her develop in the womb as long as possible, but I was totally ready for her to be here, and...and it's just a really hard call to make for myself!

I was basically being asked "When do you want to have your abdomen sliced open again?" as casually as "Do you want fries with that?" It wasn't a decision I wanted in my own hands. So before I left, the doctor said, "Tell you what...if it gets worse over the next few days, just come in." Meaning, come into triage and they'd take the baby if there was further progress.

I called my mom on the way home and she changed her flight so she could get here as soon as possible. That was Tuesday. She got here Wednesday night. Thursday at about 1:00 pm is when we headed to the hospital.

I had continued to contract and lose sleep, and was just completely exhausted by that point. I was feeling more pressure near my cervix and felt what I could only describe as "opening up". When I called the OB nurse and told her this, she said to come in. So I called Matt, took a shower, packed my hospital bag, had a good cry by myself in my bathroom, and continued with the mental pep-talks I'd been giving myself all day.

I was scared.

Scared of checking into triage and being told to go back home and spend five more days waiting in constant unrest and discomfort. Scared that the fetal monitors in triage wouldn't pick up my contractions and they'd think I was faking it. Scared of suddenly going into harder labor and not making it to the operating table in time.  Scared I'd get a rude, insulting nurse again. Scared of the looks and comments I might get from people who thought I was crazy for being only 27 and having my third baby, on purpose.

Scared that if we took the baby too soon, something might not be fully developed, or she might be sent to the NICU like my other two babies. Scared of finding out that the perfect baby I had imagined might not be so perfect.

Scared that the surgery would go wrong. Scared that the anesthesia wouldn't work well enough and I'd feel that monstrous pain again in the surgery. Scared of what my doctor had been monitoring this whole pregnancy -- placenta acreta. Scared because my doctor was out of town and I'd have to do surgery with a stranger. Scared of losing too much blood.

Scared that the doctor would say my uterus was a mess and would have to remove it. Scared that the doctor would say my uterus looks amazing and I could feel free to have more children and go through all this again and again. Scared to make the decision to have my tubes tied or not. Scared of recovery (which could have a post of its own). Scared of caring for three children!

I was so nervous those last couple of days that my mom had to basically force me to call the hospital and go in. I just wanted to freeze time so I could calm down and maybe get some rest before taking this leap.

We got to triage and spent a lot of time waiting. When the nurse finally got all my information and checked my cervix, I had only progressed about half a centimeter. So they hooked me up to monitor my contractions for the next hour, and said that if I dilated more, they'd take me into surgery.

I stressed. I prayed. I thought happy thoughts of flowers opening and all that. I wanted to progress just enough to have the baby that day, but not so much that I'd be in hard labor by the time they got the OR ready. Miraculously, my contractions picked up significantly in that hour and I was about 4 cm when the doctor came back in.

This was another doctor from my same practice, but one I had met before. We talked about my risk for placenta acreta and she ordered some extra blood to be ready in the OR just in case I lost too much when they removed my placenta. She was extremely kind and patient.

She next asked me if I wanted to have a tubal ligation while she was "already in there", and we started talking about the risks of a fourth c-section someday. Coincidentally, she had recently had her own fourth c-section (twins), and had a lot of helpful things to say on the matter. In the end, I chickened out because I wasn't 100% sure I was done having children (biologically), and she agreed to take a good look at my uterus and give me her opinion of my individual case during surgery.

So off we went to get ready for the procedure. We got settled in our room, Matt put on some Smurf scrubs, they gave me an IV port in each hand just in case I needed an emergency blood transfusion, had me sign some paperwork (ya know, so no one would blame them if I died), and waited for the extra blood to arrive so we could get started.

We sent these pictures to the boys so they could see Mommy's Spiderman hands and Daddy's Smurf outfit.

On the upside, this hospital had the nicest staff I've ever met. While they were getting me numb and sterilizing my belly and all that, the nurses were chatting with me, keeping me distracted, giving me gentle instructions, and letting me know exactly what to expect in each step of the process. It was exactly what I needed to keep calm. Once the surgery started, the anesthesiologists did the same thing just chatting away, but constantly staying aware of my pain level. I felt very taken care of.

The surgery took a long time -- longer than normal. The baby was born and Matt went with her to the nursery to get cleaned. Up until that point, everything seemed to be going great. I felt some pressure, but it was nothing unmanageable, and I didn't have near the anxiety of last time.

But once they started putting me back together, the pain started. I was glad Matt had left the room already, because there was nothing he could've done to help and I was physically writhing and grunting in pain. The anesthesiologist had to give me a few extra doses of IV pain killer through the rest of the surgery. Eventually it did the trick, but it made me extremely drowsy and groggy for the rest of the day. I learned a few hours later that I had lost a lot of blood (more than triple the normal amount for a c-section), and that was part of the reason for the long surgery. It also explains the vacuum sound I was hearing from the other side of the curtain.

Also during the surgery, the doctor leaned over the drape to tell me that my uterus looked "normal", and asked for confirmation about my tube-tying decision. I told her not to do it, even though her report of "normal" was the most non-committal description it could have been. I would have rather heard, "Your uterus looks exceptional! Go ahead and have another baby in two years!" Or I would have also accepted, "Your uterus cannot take another pregnancy or birth. I'd advise you to be done." That way, at least I'd have a medical basis for my decision. "Normal" means complete uncertainty for me. Crap.

Anyway, after the surgery, they rolled my numb body back to my room, where Matt and baby no-name had been waiting. Once I found out she was healthy, I could finally relax. She was beautiful.

This was our first baby not to be immediately swept away to the NICU, and I'm telling you it was Heaven on Earth! I got to hold my baby for as long as I wanted. I could nurse her without tripping over any extra IV tubes or cords or monitors. I could keep her in my own bed, nurse her in privacy, and listen to her breathe all night long (which I did most of the night, just because I could). As exhausted as I was from everything, I was so happy to be awake with her in the quiet, when no one would take her from me.

She was a good eater from the beginning, and I started making milk faster this time than ever. She hardly ever cried, loved to snuggle, filled her diapers without exploding, didn't spit up much...she was and is pretty much the perfect new baby.

The boys came in with my mom a couple hours after her birth, and they all fell in love right away. Josh and Jude like being big brothers, almost as much as they liked getting their very own snacks and water cups in the hospital.

How was my physical recovery for the rest of the hospital stay? Over the next 36 hours, I felt the effects of the anesthesia as it wore off. It made me insanely itchy all over, so much that I couldn't fall asleep because every few seconds I needed to claw at a different body part -- mostly my nose and eyes, so I could look like a lovely heroin addict. My face was puffy from all the fluids they pumped through me, but I'd had worse. I requested stool softeners because, ya know, that first "event" after birth is painful and terrifying. And every time I took a Norco, I felt like I was underwater for a while. So that was cool.

And if you want a fun fact:  one of my favorite things about that first 24 hours was...the catheter. I know it sounds weird, but I could drink as much delicious ice cold water as I wanted through the night without ever having to get up to pee! It was dreamy. Especially after being pregnant for so long and getting up multiple times every night to empty my bladder. Now I just need to figure out how to get one for my bedroom....

Some more little fun facts that might not be interesting at all:
- My mom stayed in the hospital with me that first night so Matt could be home with the boys. She's a NICU nurse in California, so naturally she was comparing everything and everyone to her hospital back home. Matt stayed with me the second night.
- I had the absolute nicest nurses ever. One of them, Heather, took the baby that second night so I could get some rest in between feedings.
- Whoever made the name tags (after we finally named the baby) was an awesome calligrapher. She made me love Adele's name even more!

- We had Jude's third birthday party in the hospital room on March 7th. He brought his cake, presents, balloons, dinner, everything! The boys went as crazy as they could without breaking everything in the room. I made balloon swords in my bed.

- I was grateful to see some familiar faces in the hospital.  Dr. Savage is a friend from church, and he popped in to say hi.  Dr. Berg is my volleyball friend's husband, and I teach his kids piano. He came in to check on Adele. And my good friend Liz had her baby the day after me, right down the hall. We got to visit them on our way out. Here's Adele and Mila's first meeting.

And after only 36 hours, we got to pack up and take our baby home! It was my shortest hospital stay yet! Here is my Adele Lily in her homecoming outfit. She is the sweetest, softest thing in the whole world.