I've had requests to get on documenting this story, so here goes!
The first exciting bit of news for me was that my sister made it safely from Utah to my place a whole day earlier than expected, so we got to have a day wherein Aaron accomplished a bit more, Josh got to rest, La and I got to go together to the hospital to do my prenatal stuff and then do some shopping and she helped me start my coloring project for the file folders I'm putting in the kids' Easter baskets. And all the kids got an extra day to be acquainted and get rowdy together. After being anxious about it for the last two weeks, I was relieved NOT to have gone into labor unexpectedly like I did with Carson. We adults all stayed up too late, playing Scorched Earch and chatting. All in all, Tuesday was a pretty spectacular day!
Wednesday morning, I woke up fasting, as I should have, to prepare for the surgery. Thankfully, the surgery was scheduled for 10:30 and we had to be at the hospital by 8:30, so I didn't feel like my fasting was starving me at all. Just before 8am, when Aaron and I left, I gave each of the older kids a big hug, told them to be good, and I'd see them in a couple of days.
At the hospital, the pre-surgery stuff felt routine, just long. I had a couple different people come and chat, like nurses, doctors and anesthesiologists. My nurse, Sonka, was one of the most experienced at the IV poke and was frustrated that she couldn't find a good vein. She tried once, then called an anesthesiologist. He was also frustrated by my small veins, said it was normal to have them be a little troublesome due to the fasting and having no extra fluid in them, and poked me three times without success. On the plus side, he used a topical number so at least I wasn't feeling the problem.
At one point, after they'd poked me several times, there was no one else in the room and I asked Aaron to give me a blessing. He blessed me with good doctors and nurses who would know what to do and that I was loved and watched over. After that, the anesthesiologist came back and poked me once more, finally getting a good spot and using a slightly smaller needle to accomplish it. Success! Then the cool fluid started in and I remembered that I didn't like the feeling AFTER the poke any more than the poke itself. Oh, well - I'd have a baby at the end of the day anyway!
Aaron was sent to scrub up and I was walked to the room. I loved the nurse that sat with me while I got my spinal block. She was very sweet, patting my shoulder or arm and reminding me that I was doing great. Aaron had been teasing me in the previous weeks that when Carson was born, I was such a grump and not nice to anyone, least of all the nurses. So that morning I made an effort to be kind even when informing them when a feeling was bad. I think being nice made me happy, too.
There was that strange feeling of my body going to sleep but still being aware, with the oxygen flowing in my nose as well. There was the 'mean' nurse who kept asking me what I could feel by poking me with a pin repeatedly until I couldn't feel the prick. Aaron came back in, the curtain went up, and the doctors got to work. I felt good: the doctors were talking to me, I didn't feel like the meds were effecting me as negatively as they had the time before, and Aaron was right there with me, grinning (I could only see his eyes, but I could tell) as he was occasionally told to sit back down. (Silly boy and his curiousity!) I felt the tug - I swear I could feel my ribs fall back into place immediately. What a relief! And I heard him cry - so sweet!
The next couple things, I'm not positive on their order, but my anesthesia went out of balance and I bounced back and forth between being nauseated and dizzy and also the doctors started sounding a little less sure and I heard 'I can't..." and "it won't..." and "she's losing a lot of blood here." I was busy being sick. My doctor stuck his head over the curtain and briefly explained to me: something was wrong with my placenta and uterus; I was losing a lot of blood; he was very sure that a hysterectomy was the safest and quickest way to help me. I glanced at Aaron and we nodded to the doctor.
This new developement included a need for me to have a different kind of anesthetic - one that imposed a handful of tubes down my throat. At least, I felt like it was a handful; it may have only been one or two. I know I gagged on them and Aaron was looking concerned, then they told Aaron he had to leave so they could get things done. I found out later that Aaron was very not okay with this; he wanted to watch me and see I was okay instead of hearing the one reassurance that I was asleep and things would be fine. He was angry that they said they'd update him in a few minutes and keep him updated, but he didn't hear from them for a couple of hours. He was worried.
Waking up again was my foggiest time. I vaguely remember that Aaron and his mom were both there, telling me that I was in the ICU for observation over night. I think it was still late afternoon at that point. They brought Cole down from the nursery for me to meet and we took a couple of pictures then. I was happy to forgo suffering the legs-waking-up feeling, since I'd slept through it all. And I was still pumping myself with morphine every chance I got. I think they told me I could press it once every 10 minutes and I know I worked that button plenty. Aaron told me that the final count on my blood was that they put 6 units of blood into me. A unit is, he thinks, a pint. He said the human body has 7 quarts of blood in it. So 6 pints is 3 quarts. I was nearly down half my body's needed blood supply. Crazy!
It was about this time that we also had a talk about whether Aaron would get on the plane to Mexico the next morning. I wanted so badly for him to be able to take advantage of his job and the rewards he'd earned there, but he was adament. This was my first clue about how scared he'd been while I was drifting in drugged up dreamland. He not only stayed and never mentioned the loss of his trip, but was the most loving, caring and supportive husband I could ever have asked for. I love Aaron!
I spent a long night there in the ICU. I couldn't sleep for some of it (who sleeps after sleeping all day long?) so I got a little light reading in. I also was able to get up three times to try to use the toilet. Nothing ever happened because I still had the cathater, but you know, you always feel a little like you need to. And the toilet in there was neat - attatched to a cupboard door beneath the sink - economic. Aaron wasn't allowed to stay overnight there in the ICU with me, unless he stayed in the one hard chair, so he accepted the help of the nurses and took the room where I would spend the next 3 days and slept there.
In the morning, we're now on Thursday, Aaron, two nurses and a wheelchair showed up to help me to the nursery level and move rooms for the rest of my stay. They took away my push-button and dosed me with Percocet. The next few days were just regular hospital days, it seemed to me. Different nurses and people popping in. Having to inform each one them of either my crohn's or my hysterectomy or both. Hospital food. Reading. Coloring more on my Easter project for the kids. Sleeping. Talking to more doctors. Slowly - oh, so slowly! - getting mobile again.
Many of the doctors or nurses talking to me warned me of watching for post-partum depression even more since I lost my uterus. Part of me wanted to yell at them all that Cole is so loved, that he is more precious to me than I can explain, that I'm not sad about it. But even as I type that, I can feel myself getting teary and emotional and I can't tell if it's because I love my son or I realize more than ever that he is my last. And might I not have felt that way even with tubal ligation? I don't know. So I'm on the lookout.
We finally checked out of the hospital on Sunday morning. Lots of gathering freebies, packing, waiting, waiting and waiting and finally a flurry of 3 minutes of paper signing, then we were gone. Since I've been home, I've been up one flight of stairs but have yet to see the kids' rooms again. I am loving my little suite where Cole and I spend much of the morning where we both have what we need: bathroom, stack of diapers, milk and bottles, and a heater. Afternoons, I usually make it upstairs to rest on the couch with Cole in his swing. It's nice to be home, and I'm really looking forward to this weekend, when my mom gets here to be with me!
I'm very grateful for the team of doctors and nurses who jumped to action during my surgery. For the nurses who cared for me and for Cole while we both recovered and prepared to get home. I'm so very glad that my sister was able to be here and care for my little family while I couldn't and for Aaron's family who was also very supportive and understanding of our needs. I'm grateful for Aaron, who stayed by my side and chose not to go to Mexico after all our big talk of him getting away. He's been a stellar man this week helping me do literally everything and keeping our home and family going. And I'm going to be spending the next long while filling out thank you cards to all the other amazing people who have jumped in when we needed them. Mostly, I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father for allowing me to stay here with my sweet family who I now appreciate more than ever, and for the blessings we've received through this trial.
