Being in the recovery room, I was finally able to see my husband! Although, I was very thankful not to be alone for the delivery, I missed being able to share that experience with my love. I could see in his face that he was thankful I was ok, but devastated he missed the birth.
Matt does not handle c-sections well, or any surgery of a loved one, too much out of his control for his comfort. With the birth of our older two boys, he stares at me in silence until the baby is born and then he holds the camera up over the blue curtain and takes as many pictures he can without ever looking up. So we have pictures of things I don't wish to look at again, and would scare small children! Luckily with the quads, Dr. Browne's daughter was able to tastefully capture every sweet moment, that later, Matt and I were able to combine into a slide show and experience the birth...together...in a very special way!
But before we ventured down memory lane, I went through BWII(body war 2), Body War I was carrying the quads, BWII was recovering from the birth. I had had my tubes tied and apparently that gives you extreme gas pains. I was warned of these pains and was not concerned...I could handle gas pains...oh no, no! these were not normal gas pains, I would never classify the pain I felt as a "gas" pain...it just does not do the amount of pain justice! I was also on an IV of pitocin for the first 24 hours after surgery to help shrink my uterus down to a singleton pregnancy postpartum uterus. The combo of the pitocin and the "gas" pains, I felt like my middle was being cinched in half! I was in so much pain, it took my husband and a nurse 10minutes to help me to the bathroom, that was five feet from my bed, across the cold, hard hospital floor, legs shaking all the way. Unfortunately, my shaking legs began to spread through my whole body and I had to hold onto the door knobs and gently lower myself onto the toilet. Sadly, I could not relax enough to go pee. I sat on the toilet for 15minutes before I gave up. I cried as I asked my nurse what I was supposed to do if I could not pee? Would I have to have a catheter put back in? Would that delay me being able to see my babies? I was unable to control my emotions, I was having a major release of hormones, my waist was being cinched, and now my full bladder was adding pressure to an already tender area...shockingly I began to cry even more. I laid back in my bed and tried to get some sleep, I was in misery. Why didn't I just ask for more pain medicine? Well I did, but a pain medication was added into my spinal and was supposed to still be affective for up to 24 hours post surgery. If the pain I was in was lessened by the spinal medication... Oh DEAR LORD, I can't fathom the pain I would have been in without it. Two failed pee attempts later, I asked my nurse what I was supposed to do. She brought in a sitz bath(a plastic bowl filled with warm water that has a hose that connects to a bag of warm water that keeps a constant flow of...you got it...warm water, to your bottom). I was finally able to pee! I felt like Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own, with how long I peed for. The release of pressure did help take the pain down a level. I tried again to sleep while Matt and my parents went to visit the babies in the NICU. My mind would not turn off, I had yet to bond with my babies and the most I had seen of them was from other people's pictures, and I felt no connection... the pictures could have been of anyone's babies. I desperately yearned to put the tip of my finger into their little palm and feel them wrap their little fingers tightly around my finger, and this was not possible through a photo. I feared I was about to battle postpartum depression.
With my previous two c-sections, having a bowl movement post surgery, is the toughest battle I faced. Knowing how painful my previous experiences were with trying to poop, the days leading up to the birth I was taking colace, gas pills, and milk of magnesia! Praise the Lord, two days after the birth I was able to poop without crying! (I know that this is not a pleasant topic, and believe me, I have to toss all pride out of the window to write about it, but pooping after a c-section, is often one of the hardest things a woman deals with!).
The first time I was able to see my babies was at 5:30am Monday morning, first my nurses had
come in my room to do a routine blood draw, we got me in a wheel chair and Matt wheeled me to the NICU. At this point, our babies were spread through out the nursery, I was able to put my hand through Walker's isolette and hold his little hand for a few moments, and it was heart warming. Just as Matt was about to wheel me to the next baby, a nurse came and told me that we were needed back upstairs immediately! my blood results came back with an alarmingly low hemoglobin count. As we rode the elevator back, Matt was loosing all the color in his face, and I could tell panic was setting in. My nurses meet us as we got off the elevator and said with my results so low, I shouldn't even be able to sit up straight. They walked with us back to my room and a doctor came rushing in, he took one look at me and said the results couldn't be right with how I looked versus what the results showed. I felt relieved, Matt sat, glazed eyed, staring at the floor in front of him. They repeated the blood draw, only this time took it from my other arm, and rushed the results. As we waited I tried to comfort Matt, that I was fine! My cheeks were flushed, I felt warm, I was sitting and talking, none of which could happen if my results were truly as low as they showed. I'm no doctor but at one point during my many L&D stays, a nurse told me she could not draw blood from the same arm that my IV was in, and that is exactly what happened that morning. I could see that no matter what I said, Matt would not feel relief until the results were back. He had seen a the story, on Yahoo, of the mom who died after giving birth to her quads, and the dad was left to care for his four babies without a mommy. I just kept telling him I was ok, and he kept staring. Finally the results were back and sure enough, the error was in the location the blood was drawn...my count was just fine! I saw my husband return to normal. I was ready to get back to the NICU to visit the rest of my babies, but thanks to all the blood work craziness it was time for shift change and one of the two hours a day that no one is allowed in. So instead we ate some hospital breakfast and waited for the hour to pass!Surely now, headed back to the NICU, we would not encounter another problem... unfortunately that was not the case. Thankfully, the problem was not with us! As we waited on the elevator, we heard a grown man start screaming from inside the elevator. I told Matt to wheel me away, just in case when the doors opened the man came running out to get help. The screams grew more intense "oh my God!!! Oh my God, HELP ME! AAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!" then the elevator alarm sounded. There was another man waiting with us that had a walkie-talkie. He ran to the door and yelled to ask what was wrong. Between agonizing screams the man yelled his hand was stuck in the elevator doors! I cringed, and felt instantly nauseous. The man with the walkie-talkie, called for help and then started to try and manually open the door, but with no luck. The screams were like nothing I have heard before... the next elevator opened and Matt wheeled me in. We could here the man even more clearly and realized he was between floors!!! We opened back our door to let the now growing crowd know that he was between floors. An hour or so later when we returned back from seeing the babies, we asked how the man who got his hand stuck was doing. We were told by the time they were able to pry the doors open, his hand was swollen to three times it's original size and in a variety of colors! Know one, that we are aware of, ever heard how he got his hand stuck in the doors and between the floors, but it the screams still haunt me!
Getting to be with the babies was the only thing that got my mind of the elevator man.
Seeing them so tiny in their little isolettes, and getting to hold their hand or rub their leg, was precious to me. Not being able to hold your baby is hard, but having to ask permission to stick your hand in the isolette to be able to connect with your baby is something I never realized I would have to do.The illusions and unrealistic expectations I had about NICU life would continue the theme of "nothing goes according to my plan." I would be brought to my knees more than once...
