I didn't intend for this to take three long posts but well, a lot of crap happened. And if I get it all down now, I won't have to later, right? So being transferred doesn't sound all that bad. Except imagine being all the way pregnant, super uncomfortable, you just heard that you have blood clots in your brain, and you have to be transferred to a hospital at least 30 minutes away. Oh yeah, alone. Hubbs had to follow in the car. I'm not a wimp. Not in the least, but frankly at this point, I was a big, giant baby. I just wanted to sleep. Little did I know I wasn't EVER going to sleep again. And apparently you can't just transfer to a nice room in the other hospital. We had to go to their ER. And wait for a room. And wait. And wait. During this waiting time I was told quite possibly the worst news for a pregnant woman - you can no longer get up to pee. Yes, folks, I took it there (and yes, this isn't the worst news ever, but it was pretty damn irritating at the time). So if you will, imagine you are huge and you have to pee every 10 minutes. They are pumping you FULL of liquids and you have to haul your large butt onto a bed pan. Not exactly the easiest of tasks. So of course I was angry. And yes I understand fully how serious blood clots are. But COME ON! The bathroom is 15 feet away.
Let's just say that I (unintentionally) made this horrible for them. By the time I get to Fairfax it's after midnight. And all the probing, questions, test taking starts all over. I have to tell the exact same story a million different times to a million different people. It gets quite annoying. And I'm still in the ER. With all the other sickies just floating their germs towards me. Hubbs finally shows up and let me just point out now in case I forget to later that he is the best husband ever. He rarely complained during this whole ordeal and stayed by my side practically the whole time. I could not survived without him.
So sometime around 5 in the morning (for those of you keeping track it has now been 17 hours since first going to the hospital). I finally get a room. For those also keeping track, technically this is my third room in two hospitals. I'll keep the tally going for you, it gets better. I get transferred to the Neuro ICU. I get a HUGE room. I also get their version of a sponge bath - essentially a baby wipe wipe down. This left me sticky and mildly damp. And uncomfortable - in more ways than one. But in their book, I was clean. I won't bore you with all the details but I will provide the highlights (lowlights):
- I finally convinced them I could walk the 5 steps (I kid you not) to the in-room toilet (highlight)
- No one knew what was going on with me and I had to continuously get blood drawn (lowlight)
- The doctors were not talking to each other and were very mysterious about when I could actually give birth - no v-birth for this kid. They told me that I couldn't go into labor because, well, the pushing and stress could rupture the blood clots (yes, clots, 20% of my brain had blood clots). Now, even a normal person would find that info stressful. Me, I found it incredibly stressful, which in case you didn't know, is not good to prevent more stress. (LOWLIGHT)
-We got to see baby M practice breathing on the monitor. (highlight)
Then after (I think) 2 days, I get transferred to another room (now the 4th). I end up on the Neuro floor. With a roommate. Who farts. Yay! Joy! Not cool. May I also remind you that I haven't showered in three days. And am not really allowed to get up that much (except to pee! - yay!). I am going crazy. The drs aren't talking to us. They aren't talking to each other. I am getting more and more angry and stressed. By Monday I was livid. I wasn't getting enough sleep. I wasn't being poked and prodded every 4 hours. I pulled a muscle in my back. Was gaining weight like a champ. I was NOT a happy camper. Hell, camping would have been more fun.
I somehow managed to convince the OB people that I needed to have this baby and I needed to have this baby now. So, I did. They scheduled me for a C-section for Tuesday, December 18 at noon. Not a bad birthday if you ask me.
My C-section went relatively smooth. Oh except for that whole "holding" time beforehand (while I waiting in another "room"). I got to meet Boris (like the first LT.). Told me I had a beautiful name in a nice Russian accent. I shook the operating table. But (victory) I was awake. And Hubbs was next to me. And at 1:11PM I met my beautiful baby girl. She weighed 7 pounds 4 ounces. And had some lungs. I'll admit it, I cried for a second. Mainly because I was doped up and got sad that my Dad wasn't here to see her.
Well, I tried to wrap it up but couldn't. More later. Oh yeah, we named her Emma Elizabeth.
