"Oh Shit"

The epidural was taking effect and I was becoming sufficiently numb.  In the operating room they "oofed" my fat butt onto that really fun inverting table and proceeded to turn me upside down.  My itty bitty anesthesiologist took her place at my head and went through my vitals.  Jason soon came in dressed in scrubs and a paper hair net.  He looked so damn funny I couldn't contain the giggles.  I didn't tell him why I was giggling....I guess if he reads this he will soon find out.

In walks Sherry and Betty.  Sherry gave my shoulder a little squeeze and asked me if I was ready.  I was.  The thing about Sherry is for such a "battle axe" kind of lady she sure does love bringing babies into the world.  My OBGYN entered the room, grinned at me and headed toward my feet.  The little curtain came up.  I felt pressure as they tested for numbness one last time.  Everything was a Go. 

As I did with my last two c-sections I listened to the technical mumbo jumbo exchange as they got started.  "Itty bitty" kept smiling at me and commenting how relaxed I was.  I told her that she should have known I have been here twice before.  Jeez, ever heard of reading the medical records of a patient before you treat them?  She asked about my previous surgeries and we made small talk about my kids.  I heard the doc comment for the record that he was now ready to make the secondary incision...I felt pressure and that weird "opening" feeling (ok, that may have been imagined, but I felt it all three times).  I focused on the feelings and the building joy that the time was near.  Then I heard it.

Quietly, as if I wasn't supposed to hear, one of the three at my belly venomously spat out, "Oh Shit!"  Now, I don't know about you, but when I am lying on a table in a sterile room with many masked over educated strangers surrounding me OH SHIT is the last thing I want to hear!  I loudly screeched, "Oh Shit What?!" Sherry was suddenly at my head, Jason was looking confused and worried and "Itty Bitty" kept avoiding looking at me. 

"Sherry, is there something wrong with the baby?" She said no.  "Then what the fuck is going on down there?" She told me it was just a minor problem.  That my lower intestine had fused by scar tissue to my abdominal wall.  "What the hell does that mean?" She explained it was just a surprise and that doc was taking care of it.  Everything was fine.  "In less than 3 minutes you will hear that baby cry, I promise."  Ok.  Ok.  Ok.  I calmed down the best I could.  Itty Bitty finally started to do her job again.  She had to give me something to lower my blood pressure since I was ready to bolt from the table.  She also had to give me a sedative cause the doc was concerned my adrenaline would make the epidural wear off faster.  Good thing they did cause I swear I felt it wearing off as I forced myself to calm down. 

Sherry was right, just a few minutes later I heard that blessed little scream.  And she was pissed too!  Ahh, another angel with my  DNA :)  Sherry held our sweet angel up so I could see her.  She looked at me and heard me talk and calmed down as I stroked her little head.  Then they took her away and she went back to baby-cussing.  I was so proud!  Nurse Betty fussed over her for what seemed to me a very long time.  I later found out that she made 8 separate "poopies" in less than ten minutes.  The first taking place as they were pulling her out!  At least her intestines were in good working order :)

Our angel scored an 8 on her initial Apgar test.  I got to see her again before Jason followed her and Betty out of the room.  Sherry came over and teased me a little.  Apparently I was holding a ton of water and I drenched her from the hips down. It may be wrong, but I felt a little vindication from that. The "sewing back up" part seemed to take forever.  I made a few comments about it and was simply told they were almost done. 

I heard doc tell Sherry to close up and he came to sit by my head.  Doc apologized for the "worrisome comment during surgery" (ha ha ha ha ha it took all my strength not to laugh in his face).  He explained to me that it looks like, after Felicia's birth, the scar tissue was extensive and I didn't heal properly.  He accused me of not allowing myself enough down time after that delivery.  I didn't argue.  I know I am a bad bad girl.  Apparently, my lower intestine and my colon had fused to my abdominal wall and sections of my uterus.  Lovely picture huh. He looked relieved and hoped I was too when he further explained that he came within centimeters of cutting into my colon. Again, Lovely!  I said, "And that would mean SHIT would have been a literal comment, right?"  He gave me a small smile and went on to say that he did repair what he could but I would need longer recovery time and that there were worries that I would get post-natal eclampsia because of the meds Itty Bitty had to administer.  Great. Wonderful...wooo hhooo.  Ugh.

I was eventually finished getting put back together.  They had to hit me up with another dose of meds cause it took so damn long.  A new nurse came into the room and they "oofed" my ass onto another bed.  She wheeled me into a recovery room where I was to wait for my legs to at least tingle before I could see the baby.  Ugh!  This again.  I spent the next forty minutes trying to get out of the room.  The nurse told me to sleep and I told her to shove it in the nicest way I could.  I asked her if she could simply sleep while she was anticipating holding her baby for the first time.  She quite asking after that.  We chatted.  I found out she was the head of the nurses and Sherry had asked her to be there for my recovery because I tended to be a "spunky" patient.  Who, me?  Never!

I bitched and whined and lied about my legs so that I could go see my baby.  This nurse was too smart though.  She wouldn't let me leave until I could prove that I could move my toes and ankles.  Eventually the time had come and I was wheeled to my room. 

Here We Go...To the hospital...

First let me apologize (well, if anyone comes back to read this that is) for not getting to this earlier. 

My new OBGYN (if you remember reading about the psychotic witch I was seeing before you will also remember I had to switch docs more than half way through my pregnancy) saw me a couple of times, deemed me doing well and handed my care over to one of his mid-wives.  She is an awesome old lady!  I kid not.  She is a tough old broad....she handled me just as I should have been handled.  Her name is Sherry.  She took me on with a smile and a firm hand.  I quickly found myself trusting her because she listened to my concerns, my bitching and my frustrations then gave me straight answers.  There were times I found myself "checking" my trust.  Never before have I found a medical person able to handle me so perfectly...without making me feel like I was being "handled." 

A few days before I was due to check into the hospital, we attempted to find someone to watch the kids. It wasn't as easy as pie. My parents (only an hour away) were balking, most of my friends had jobs or kids of their own. Eventually it became a chaotic scheduling mess, but we found decent people to keep track of our critters while we brought our newest critter into the world. This didn't do much to releive my stress.  I hated that my kids had to be handed off back and forth between available people.



I checked into the hospital at the crack of dawn. Nervous as always and in a bad mood because I didn't sleep well...and I didn't eat for 12 hours! I was instantly on defensive. Nothing anyone said, no amount of "nursey" optimism could lighten my mood enough to trust any of those well-meaning souls who attempted to get me to relax.  For all I knew in my nutcase brain, they were all looking at me with disdain for being a smoker...for being fat...for being a bitch.  Whatever the case, I was just not the happy camper.  Huh, and people say the third time is a charm.  NOT!  I just doubt I will ever be a happy camper when it comes to anything medical. 

I am all hooked up and waiting to be wheeled into surgery.  The anesthesiologist comes into the room to explain her part.  I nodded in the right places all the while thinking this frail, skinny little thing is gonna get a rude awakening when she finds out that I am not easily drugged and not good at being a patient.  But, I have been here before.  I smile and attempt to relax knowing what to expect from the procedure.  After all, my hubby will be right next to me. 

Now walks in Nurse Betty.  No joke, her name is Betty.  She is an old dodger herself.  Cute as your grandma and looking as nervous as a turkey on Thanksgiving.  I think someone told her about me. Good.  People should be forewarned about what they are about to deal with.  My first impression of Nurse Betty is that she is gonna run away crying before the day is up.  She is assigned to be the baby nurse during delivery and then our care nurse for the rest of her shift.  Ok.  I figured this experience would test her enough to see what she was made of.  She was kind and explained the procedure and asked if I had any questions.  I asked this and that, pretty much already knowing the answer but curious to see how she reacted.  She seemed fine. 

A few moments later my OBGYN walked in with Sherry behind him.  He poked me, checked my chart then left to prep for the surgery.  Sherry stayed for a minute.  Asked me if I had any questions etc.  I noticed she was in scrubs.  I asked her if she was here delivering for another patient.  She looked shocked, almost hurt.  She told me she was here for me.  HUH?  I thought that since she was a mid-wife she wouldn't be in for hacking me open and ripping the little angel from my womb.  She told me she wouldn't miss it for the world!  I almost cried.  Finally, someone I had a repartee with...someone I felt I could trust was gonna be right there with me.  Cool.  I relaxed a little.  Not much, but a little. 

So, off to surgery we go.

I know that I suck

My dear ones...  I am so sorry that I have not gotten my shit together fast enough.  I do feel rather guilty for not keeping up on my blog.  The Lilian Pregnancy was more eventful than the previous two....I have a lot to tell you.  SO  The good  news is that hubby has rocketed me into the nerd age.  I now have my very own laptop and I can go anywhere I want...even in my room to hide...so that I may catch up on my blog!!  Woo Hoo.  Aren't you excited?  LOL  Ok, I doubt you are turning cartwheels, but I am sure excited.  It is such therapy to get things off my brain.  Whether you read them or not...perhaps I have lost you all forever....I will be back in a few days to get the Lilian story going....

And to make sure you get excited too.....

Here is a picture of Lilian on her birth day.

Hardee har har, joke is on mommy!

So I just sat down to blog.  Lilian is down for her morning nap and not due to wake for another 20 minutes....Felicia is playing with her Ponies....Kenny is off at school and I won't need to wait for the bus for about half an hour.  I sat down to catch you all up on my latest little one.  As I was trying to think of a title...what do you think I hear?  Why, it is my little Lilian.  I believe she is ready for her noonish boob juice a little early today.  Lovely.  I will be back...I promise.

Coming soon

I am just stopping by to let everyone know that I am working my rear off with my three angels and I will try to get back and write about the adventures of Lilian's birth as soon as I can.  Trust me, it will be worth it.  It will be quite a story...

Countdown

Well, here I am, just 9 days away from going to the hospital to pay a group comprised of doctors and nurses to burst my little baby bubble.  I am excited, not ready to share the angel and tired as tired can get. Nothing new.  I have been here twice before.  We shall soon see whether or not this crew of baby bubble busters can handle someone who doesn't trust many, if any hailing from the medical field.  I suppose I should let them in on the secret to my heart.  First, don't tell me I can't do something.  Second, keep that awesome, finely chopped ice coming!!  Perhaps I will just let them figure it out on their own. I am kinda evil that way.

I want you to imagine something for me.  Think of the creature from the black lagoon.  Now think of the stay-puft marshmallow man.  Morph these creatures together in your mind.  I know you can do it...I mean come on, in this day and age we see scientists growing human ears on the backs of rats! 

Got the picture?  Add long blond hair, large, swollen breasts, tired blue eyes and an engorged stomach.  Imagine it walking towards you, like a penguin.  That is me!!

Ok, so seaweed isn't hanging from my shoulders and I am a bit more tan than a marshmallow, but I feel like some strange cross bred creature.  I am bloated, sore, tired and cranky.  I can't walk straight, think straight or even sit straight.  I have a mirror so I know exactly what I look like.  If one more person tells me that I am glowing I think I am going to scream!  I smile at these people, shyly.  They don't know that in my mind I am yelling LIAR LIAR!!

At least my four year old tells it like it is.  He frequently tells me, "Mama, you don't look so good today" or my favorite, "Mama, you look kinda puffy and squishy."  AHA!  Finally the truth! 

Alright, off the pitiful hormone soap box. 

Next Friday I will be introducing another angel to the world.  I can't wait to hold her, nibble on her little toes and smooch that sweet smelling head.  I am still in shock that I am so blessed to be allowed another child to raise and set loose on the world.  As miserable as I am, I don't want to be unpregnant.  I love feeling that spark of life growing and maturing in my belly.  Makes me feel part of something so special and magical.  A million days of stress and frustration are easily forgotten when I watch my kids smile...hear them laugh or listen to them sing.  Being a mom is the best job....and honest hard days work what pays off second by second in hugs, kisses and smiles.

Now I need a nap.

As the Belly Grows...

I admit, very few people consider me "old" but that doesn't make me feel any younger.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being pregnant.  The kicks and wiggles, the belly bump and yes, even the boob pain makes me feel a part of something so far beyond myself it is awe inspiring.  Still, I must admit I feel as if I am repeatedly taking a beating from a Mack truck.  It is all worth it though I may whine a little and rant a lot.  When I see that beautiful face nothing that has happened in the last nine months will matter much anymore. 

Just the other night I realized that with only 4 1/2 weeks left, I am SO not prepared!  I have no hospital bag set up, have yet to preregister at the hospital,  there is no designated "baby space" aside from the crib I made Jason put up last week and I have not yet talked to the kids much about how their lives will change around here with a fragile little baby around.  I need to get my shit together. Good Lord!  I don't even have an infant car seat!!  Is this what happens when you get knocked up for the third time?  Do you drop the whole boyscout motto of "be prepared?"  With the first, I was a nutcase about having everything set up.  With the second I was just slightly less nutty (probably because I already had most of what I needed), yet here I am a few weeks away from introducing this new life to the world and I haven't even gotten my room reorganized so that we can put up a co-sleeper!!  Hang on while I smack myself!

Ok, better.

At least the girls' room is organized and decorated in Felicia's pinks and our new angel's purples.  That is good, right?  Another high point, I have not killed anyone yet.  (Husbands don't count, do they?)  Can I really make it through three whole pregnancies without knocking someone out?  An amazing feat for sure.  Though, I must admit there have been a few people who I have come across in the last few months who deserve a good whoopin'.  Hmmm, I am proud of me! 

All that aside, I am amused by how the kids are taking the whole pregnant mommy thing. 

Kenny gets upset because he can't cuddle with me like he used to.  "Mommy, is it June yet cause we have to get the baby out.  Your belly is so big it is pushing me off the couch!!"  Boy, do I feel pretty.  One of my favorite Kenny-isms, "Mama, when the baby comes out she can sleep with me so you can sleep gooder in your bed in case another baby wants to grow there."  LMAO  I just about passed out laughing at that one.  While we were at the ultrasound, watching the baby images on a large flat screen tv...,"I like the baby shadows but I am bored, can we change the channel to SpongeBob?"  Nothing we came up with convinced him that the channel couldn't be changed. 

Felicia takes things a little different.  She is possessed with "mommy's baby" in my tummy.  She will suddenly stop what she is doing and run up to kiss my belly.  Sometimes she will rub my belly and say, "Hi baby."  It is so damn sweet!!  You ask her where mama's baby is and she instantly replies, "In the Tummy!"  She got a baby with a bottle for Christmas and recently has discovered the joy of feeding it and walking it around.  However, when she is done with it she drops it on the floor or tosses it in the corner and moves on to her My Little Ponies.

I am happy we are adding to our little family.  However, I am scared shitless (go ahead and insert a hemorrhoid joke here)?  Is the world ready for THREE children raised by the likes of me?