People who know me know that the first step I take in facing my emotions is usually writing about them, and about the experience that led to them. I wrote about my mother's death almost immediately, and about my three miscarriages the weeks they occurred. But sometimes, life gets in the way and I'm left with little ability to write but lots of time to process.
Like that time I had an emergency c-section a month before my due date.
Yes - if you're a family or friend, you probably already know that little Ronen has already arrived, throwing our whole life into a tizzy quite some time before we were ready to be thrown into said tizzy. I don't think it's necessary for me to rehash every graphic detail about the arrival of my child, but lots of folks seem to want a bit more of a backstory as to what happened, so, here goes...
Despite all of my best efforts, I'd struggled with high blood pressure for years. Pregnancy didn't make it better, although, until about a month ago, it was fairly well-controlled with medication. My OB was carefully monitoring me for pre-eclampsia. There was a bit of a concern when my third trimester ultrasound showed a healthy but rather small baby. Granted, both my husband and I are short, but restricted growth could also indicate problems. I was told I'd be getting a non-stress test twice weekly to monitor the baby's development. At a subsequent appointment, I asked about bed rest (per my concerned husband's urging). The doctor's reply was that it would not be necessary, and he left the room to review some test results. Moments later, he returned and said that I would not be going back to work, but to the hospital instead. Protein was found in my urine, and that, coupled with my alarmingly high blood pressure, was an indication of pre-eclampsia, the condition that struck my friend Alayna during the birth of her son Isaiah.
Doctors - good ones - do not mess around with pre-e. It can be unpredictable and lead to sudden seizures. Long story short: I drove myself to Mercy Hospital and checked in for further testing. Ross arrived fairly soon after and the diagnosis of pre-eclampsia was confirmed. I was surrounded by efficient, caring nurses and doctors and that was a good thing, because we were told that the baby was coming within the next 48 hours. We were given the option of inducing labor or a c-section. It was a tough decision, as I had really wanted to avoid surgery, but the idea of putting the baby and myself through up to two additional days of stress and trauma on top of the already scarily high blood pressure I was having...well, that didn't seem right. We opted for the c-section, and at 4:03 PM on June 11, 2014, Ronen Curtis Godlove entered the world.
My husband was the first to hold him, as the anesthesiologists continued to give my updates in their calm, reassuring voices, but a sudden wave of terror hit me when I heard his birth weight. He was only four pounds and three ounces. I panicked. So tiny! The best guess of our sonographer was nearly five pounds! Still, he seemed healthy, and tears rolled down my face when I heard, rather than saw, his first cry.
Family stopped in as I was still hopelessly high on Lord knows what wonderful drugs I was given. My grandmother held her first great-grandchild, tears in her eyes. No one really had the words to say on the occasion - after three miscarriages, we were holding a gorgeous little boy in our arms. So no one said much. And that was okay.
But things went south quickly. Ronen's blood sugar levels were dangerously low, and his body temperature wasn't very reassuring. He was placed into an isolette to warm him up inside our room, but then transferred to the NICU almost immediately. I don't even recall what my reaction was, other than to soberly nod as the nurse was explaining why they took him away.
In the hospital room that night, while my husband slept fitfully, I scratched myself nearly raw from the morphine - not realizing that I was even doing it. I slept for minutes at a time, as my vitals, pain level, and incision were checked constantly. The next day, my husband made his second trip into the NICU to see our son, who was still in the isolette, wires attached to his chest and an IV strapped into his incredibly tiny hand.
The next nine days were, to be trite, a roller-coaster of emotions. One hour, his blood sugar was perfect, but the next, it dropped by twenty points. Although his body temperature regulated fairly quickly, there were other concerns. He was, after all, technically a month early. We were told that he may be out as early as the weekend after his birth, but each day brought new challenges. He was a sleepy baby, and very hard to rouse for his feedings. He wasn't taking enough formula. His blood sugar was unpredictable. All of these things, we were told, were normal for preemies, and we just had to wait things out. He wasn't losing weight, though, which was encouraging.
Finally, after lots of prayers and what seemed like an eternity, our little man was given the all-clear to come home with us. Though I'd visited him frequently in the NICU, trying to breastfeed and just get to know him, I could not believe I was taking home this tiny and helpless stranger. His every need was my responsibility. I was more overwhelmed, I think than I was nine days earlier, when we learned he was coming out, one way or the other!
So, I now have a thirteen-day-old baby in my house. He's my baby, though I'm still having a very hard time wrapping my head around that fact. My husband is utterly enamoured of him and keeps exclaiming that he looks like me (he does). I'm going through the ups and downs that virtually every new mom experiences: the constant trickle (or flood) of self-doubt...the challenges of feeding a newborn...the sleep deprivation...forgetting to eat (trust me; it's the first time in my life that I've ever actually, truly and genuinely forgotten to eat)...struggling to accept help from friends (it's that awful pride thing that tries to convince new moms to handle everything by themselves)...and trying to have patience with myself as I deal with a new role, a new body, and new fears.
All in all, though, I have to brag - my husband has been pretty much my hero these past few days. It only seemed fitting that this past Father's Day was his first as a father, even to a son stuck in the hospital! He has risen with me for most nighttime feedings, has brought me little treats, has encouraged me to drink lots of water to stay hydrated, has tried to keep the house clean, has been as supportive to me as he knows how. I'm dreading the day he has to return to work!
And what about the cats? Well, Loki seems terrified of the baby and will only eye him from a very safe distance. Thor is curious, but not curious enough to really bother him, as long as he still gets his cuddles and pets from his beloved Mommy Cat (he does, though not as frequently). Freyja still hasn't acknowledged the baby at all yet, but Ross and I did notice a change in her behavior. Although Thor and Loki had both been left alone for a few days before, when we went on vacation or on weekend trips, Freyja had not. We think she was terrified of being abandoned, because since we've been home, she has been even clingier than usual. She jumps into visitors' laps and simply has to be in the room with one of us (usually me). She is following me into the bedroom and bathroom now, which she only did rarely before. We're convinced that she was abandoned before, which is why she showed up on our porch to begin with, and she's afraid it will happen again.
Only cure for that is to shower her with kisses and cuddles so she knows she is loved and we're not going anywere!
I've decided that I won't be blogging too much about my baby. And, on social media, I'm limiting who can see pictures and details about him. Things are just too unpredictable nowadays, plus I'm worried for his own privacy someday! I don't know what the internet will be like in ten years, but if Facebook is still around, does he really need to see that I posted pictures of his diaper blowouts or bathtime exploits? Boy, I'm grateful that my mom never had Myspace...
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