details

So, let's try for a longer post, if I don't fall asleep in the middle of it.

The C section went well, however once he got into my uterus, the OB saw the TAC stitch sitting INSIDE the uterine cavity, and displaced to the right.  It had migrated through the wall of the uterus as the uterus grew, and he said it was clearly a chronic process, since there was no obvious hole in the uterine wall, no bleeding, or anything to indicate a recent event.  So the TAC held up to a point, probably up to about 32 weeks, when I had the last ultrasound and they had a hard time seeing it, then it started crossing over through the wall, to the inside of the uterus, and it became useless at some point in the third trimester.  He had to remove it, which means if I want more children, which I do (only one more, I promise MrH!), I will have to get a new cerclage.  He suggested that I go for the McDonalds (the regular transvaginal one), as my cervix is likely fibrosed enough by now not to move much, since it hasn't changed at all in the third trimester, even without the band around it.  The bottom line is, I could have had a uterine tear, or a premature birth, and I didn't have either, which goes to show that sometimes things go well and we have no clue as to why.

I am quite swollen, my hands and feet, and my incision came apart in one corner and it is oozing bloody stuff all over the place.  But for now, I will leave it, even if it heals funny it can always be redone with the next c/s.

Now, onto all things about Emma.  She is incredible.  I realize that I am biased, but she seems really strong for a newborn.  She can lift up her head, and butt me in the breast with it when she gets mad.  She also punches me with her little fists when she does not get milk fast enough for her liking.  She looks at me, opens her eyes, grabs my hair, and generally does things that I did not think a newborn would do.  And she has a very very strong suck.  I could dangle her on my breast.   The first night in the hospital was not too bad, I fed her twice, and we both slept in between (I lay her to sleep next to me, as I cannot bear to put her anywhere else, separate from me.  The whole time I was in the hospital her bassinet was untouched).  The second night though, I did not sleep at all.  She wanted to feed every twenty minutes or so, for almost an hour each time, and was probably a bit dehydrated, had some brick stains on the diapers (the brick colour shows dehydration), so I fed her almost non stop.  By morning she made some nice wet diapers, and my breasts lost a layer of skin and gained some groovy cracks in the nipples.  I think my milk finally came in, but still no breast engorgement.  I so much want to be able to offer her a full breast, and I think I am getting there, as she sucks for only ten minutes before falling asleep, as opposed to the previous hour after hour.  She even had some milk in her mouth after I fed her, which makes me feel so much happier.

I should probably mention briefly how hard it is to get support for exclusive breastfeeding in my neck of the woods.  The first couple of days are rough, since there is only colostrum, and while waiting for the milk to kick in, the baby gets mad, and sucks non stop, the mom gets very sore and it all overlaps with the day three hormonal storm that in any case makes one feel very sensitive.  Thank God for my husband, who encourages me to survive, as everybody else thinks that formula is the way out.  "Just give her a top up" I hear left, right and centre.  I realize that doing that would make her sleep for four hours instead of cluster feeding for two days straight, but I still think breastfeeding is a naturally occurring skill and that patience and the instinct to survive for both of us will do the trick.   Speaking of which, I have a lot of respect for her will to go on and on and not give up, she is only 3.6 kg but has more determination than a bull.

The hormonal storm of day 3 hit me last night, on the clock, and I am crying a lot.  Mostly I feel happy, and blessed, and overwhelmed at the same time.  I look at her and I cannot believe that I got to take her home.  Like it did not register in my brain that she would survive, and I am somewhat surprised that after all she gets to stay with us.  She is so beautiful, and strong, and that makes me cry as well.  Everything does.  All I want to do is to stare at her and kiss her little face.  Will update as soon as I can.

Emma. Adorable. Details soon.

tomorrow

The C section is scheduled for tomorrow morning, and I am looking forward to it.  I can't believe it is really happening!  People ask me if I am nervous, I am definitely not nervous about the surgery, but I am in a daze about the whole baby part.  I mean really, it hasn't clicked in yet.  It won't until I hold her in my arms. Will update when I can.

Waiting

false alarm

I was so hungry last night, because I decided that if I go into labour it would be unsafe to have food in my stomach prior to the C/s, so I held off on dinner.  I continued to contract throughout the night, and MrH who slept with his hand on my belly (my very own tocometer!) was quite amazed that I did not tip into labour.  By 4 am, I was so hungry that I could eat a sheep, horns and all.  I hadn't slept at all.  I decided that I am going to eat, as I felt things were easing off, and afterwards slept and woke up still pregnant with not much happening today.  If it starts again, I am pretty sure it will be more intense.

I had the preanesthetic appointment today, and laughed my ass off that they only give you two lines to write your prior surgical history.  I had six surgeries so far, and only one was non-obstetrical/non-gyne.  By the time I am done having kids, if I do have two, I will have had eight.  And I will need to fix the surgical hernia that I got from my laparoscopy, so likely nine.  Yes, they really need to revise that form to give more space to weirdos like me.

prelabour contractions

I woke up with a painful contraction this morning.  The whole day I had Braxton Hicks in large amounts, and a very very active Emma inside.  I went to the hospital for an NST, and it looked good, she moved about fifty times in 20 minutes, my cervix is 50% effaced, and 1 cm dilated, mid position and soft.  It hasn't changed over the past 6 hours, so I am not getting the C section yet, but I am continuing to have contractions, and some of them are hurting a bit, so I don't know if I will last the night.  I am now in that unpredictable prelabour period, that can last days, but I doubt very much that I will make it until the 10th of August.  In fact, I have my bag ready for tonight :)

So I have actually become a responsible mother and packed a bag.  In my hospital, we are not given underwear, large menstrual pads, baby diapers, or wipes, so all of that is now in my bag, together with two pajamas, six onesies (three short sleeve, three long sleeve), a pacifier, a nail clipper (in case Emma needs an urgent manicure after birth), and a wholelottamakeup for me, 'cause I can't show my less than perfectly made up face in public, C/section or not.  Plus a hair curler, 1.5 inch.  And basic toiletries (baby soap, shampoo, conditioner, floss, hair brush, toothbrush, toothpaste).

We are all set and ready to go.  And I moved mom's plane ticket to tomorrow, the soonest I could get.  It is so exciting.  I am making a big roast for my family to eat while I am in the hospital, and the house smells and feels like Christmas.  Hope I get a nice present! (so giddy).

insomnia

Tonight, as many nights before, I cannot sleep.  I have had pretty bad insomnia since I got back from Vancouver.  I sleep well during the day, but stay awake and think at night.  I am usually happy and my thoughts involve baby-related plans and anticipation.  For the last hour though, as I am hovering in twilight sleep (not quite asleep, not quite awake), I am reliving giving birth to Adrian.  The contractions, the obstetrician thinking out loud that he did not think we were yet ready to let go of him, my husband telling him that we are, that it was obvious to both of us that I was in labour and there was not stopping the end.  The warm gush of amniotic fluid, such a lot of it... The desperation that I felt when it suddenly dawned on me that I had lost him forever, that he was a little boy, when I held him and I saw that he was real and it all became so clear what an immense loss it was.  Half out of my mind after so many anesthetics, lying on the OR stretcher for the second time that day waiting for the manual removal of the placenta, telling a physician friend who came to see me words that I can still hear myself saying, I lost my baby.  I might have said I lost myself that day.

Emma is moving lots in my belly as I am typing this, and she has been active all night.  She likes to move at night, which is such a reassuring blessing.  Because even though I am almost 38 weeks, I am still half looking at my body as unreliable, and expecting that something somewhere is so defective that it might kill her.  I often worry so much that I just want her out before I do something to harm her, like I did with Adrian.  I know that statistics are on my side, but when have I ever obeyed statistics?

And yet... Emma deserves to have a normal pregnancy, a normal birth, a normal mother.  She does not deserve to come into this world to a mother who is afraid, and paranoid, and expecting things to go wrong at any time.  What kind of childhood would that be?  what would she learn about the world? that it is unsafe, that she might die at any time, or at least that her mother fears so, which is just as bad for a child?  We do the best we can, as parents, and I certainly don't indulge in my memories or fears too much, definitely not out loud.  But I will always have to be aware of this fear, of these memories, of the fact that I experience life and happiness as such fragile and temporary entities.  And I will have to do my best to focus on showing Emma that life can be happy and robust, which means that I will have to start paying attention to moments when life actually IS happy and robust.  Like NOW.

Snapping back to reality.  Almost 38 weeks pregnant.  One week until I will touch her skin.  A whole pregnancy going flawlessly.  The happiest I have ever been.