Sunday, September 6

So on Saturday night it was decided that I would have a c-section early Sunday morning, no ifs, ands or buts about it. I had to get this kid out. My blood tests were the issue. My liver was getting worse and the doctors decided not to play russian roulette with my son's life.

So I woke up Sunday, (starving my ASS off! Everytime they decided to operate, I had to fast...which meant I fasted A LOT) and Hubs came in. We talked, got everything ready. Said a few private words to each other.

And off I went. Into surgery. I had a spinal block. Chatted with the nurses...asked "Dr. Steve" (my nickname for the anethesiologist) questions about the surgery...when suddenly I had a panic attack. I felt like I was going to pass out. I was sweaty and really felt like I should try to get up and leave. (I had a spinal for god's sake...where was I going to go?)

I told Dr Steve that I was having issues. He immediately got me a cold cloth for my forehead, put different drugs into the system and just talked me into calming down. He was wonderful.

He went to get Hubs, who was in the hallway in his scrubs. Hubs held my hand the whole time. I love that. I know he hates hospitals, surgery, and everything to do with both of those. To have him there meant the world to me.

The rest of the surgery went like clockwork.

I had the tubal ligation done. I'm proud of myself that I stuck with it. Many people wanted me to have more kids- family mostly, and they were pretty vocal about me being so young and having permanent birth control done.

Jamie made noise quickly, even though he was a preemie and needed some rubbing and suctioning to get his lungs working. I got to hold him pretty quickly, all things considered. Here's a photo:

You can see how yellow I was. Scary.

And after returning to my room:

I was all smiles. I was so happy to have him out. I felt so blessed that he was healthy. The outcome could have been totally different if it weren't for the doctors who were vigilant.

He was born 6 pounds, 10 ounces and 18 inches long. Tiny peanut.

We are doing great. I'm tired, but what new mom isn't? I get sore, but I had major surgery and I'm still recovering.

My family is now complete and I couldn't be any happier.

Saturday.

So Friday night into Saturday morning I had contractions every 3-5 minutes. Some I didn't feel, some felt like a big uterus hug, some really f'ing hurt. I couldn't relax. Finally, at 5 am I asked for something to make me sleep. My doctor gave me a very low dose of morphine.

Yahoo. It was given to me in my IV, and I swear that I felt it in about 3 seconds. I must have drooled on myself by 10 seconds. Delightful.

I slept one hour. ONE HOUR. I woke up having the mother of all contractions, asked for more morphine. I slept another hour.

During this time I was also doing a 24-hour pee test. I had to save all of my urine in a jug so that they could test that. I started it at 8 pm Friday. By 10pm on Saturday we'd have the results and if they were bad, we'd have a c-section that night. If the results were good, we'd wait a few more days before taking the baby. Remember, he was only 36 weeks and every hour that he stayed inside counted.

They came in Saturday morning, bright and early to get blood yet again. Hubs came by and we hung out. I stared at the walls, I knit, I did nothing, I itched, I peed alot (it was the only time I got out of bed and did it as often as I could.)

We got the results back that night, and the nurse said that we'd be having the baby ASAP. We get Hubs into his scrubs, I get worked up (won't go into details there, you thank me...trust me) and we start the phone call tree.

About 30 minutes goes by and one of the nurses comes into the room with a phone. It's the doctor, still at home. We're supposed to be in surgery in 30 minutes.

There's been a mistake in reading the results of the pee test. The urine test was fine, but my liver tests are awful. They're not sectioning me tonight, but at 6am tomorrow.

So, another long night at the hospital begins.

Friday, September 4th.

I had a normal, scheduled obgyn appointment on the Tuesday, Sept. 1st.

I had higher than normal blood pressure, which is low to the normal human, but a spike for me, so the dr wanted me back in the office Friday the 4th.

The Boy was in Florida on vacation with the inlaws. Hubs had the day off. He decided (with some begging on my part) to come with me to the drs. As we sat there, asking a few questions, he said, "Don't forget to tell the doc about the itching."

Oh yeah, the itching!

I had had unexplained, all-over itching for about 2 weeks. My wrists, chest, belly and bottom of my feet were the worst. It felt like my skin was on FIRE. I could not itch it enough. Hubs was constantly saying, "Quit itching."

The doctor had that look. You know, that "well...that could be something bad" look.

She decided to send me to the lab for blood work. I went right away. Hubs and I had lunch. I got a call on my cell phone as we left the restaurant.

It was the doctor. She wanted to treat me as if we knew for certain that I had the liver issue. Apparently, the tests take about a week to be done. If there was an issue, it may be too late to reverse damage done. (At the time, I had no idea that sudden fetal loss was a side effect or that I could die too.)

She wanted me at labor and delivery by that night. I went immediately, after going home and picking up my knitting, my ipod and changing my clothes.

I thought I'd be home in time for Bunco at 7 pm, which the neighborhood gals and I play once a month.

Man, was I wrong.

I got to the hospital, was hooked up to monitors, gave more blood, knit, laughed with the nurses, returned some emails by phone...

Boring.

(I also forgot to mention that I sent Hubs to play 9 holes of golf. I seriously thought I would be home that night.)

So I'm sitting there, the nurse comes in. She says, "Heidi, we know something is going on. Your tests are funky, we have no idea why. It looks like you're delivering tonight...I say around 7."

It was 3pm.

What??

I think I might have sworn. Loudly. Perhaps even said the F-word. Loudly.

We were so not ready for a kid to come.

The phone call to Hubs was delightful. Please feel the sarcasm dripping from my words.

He rushed to the hospital, with clothes for me (at the short end, I'd be in the hospital 5 days post-op. I brought NOTHING with me...well, knitting, ipod...but no essentials.)

We found out that the baby was too small and since I was in a controlled environment, we were going to wait on the c-section.

The doctor said that she'd like to hold on for as long as possible, even as long a 10 days. But no, I wouldn't be going home for those days, I'd be hooked up to monitors, getting bloodwork done 2-3 times daily and basically bedridden.

Shoot me.

So, knowing that we would deliver that night, I sent Hubs home and I attempted to sleep.

But wait- the contractions started.

Jamie.

We welcomed a new addition to our family on September 6th. He's blonde, 6 pounds, poops like a champ and cries little noises like a kitten.

I also learned a new word. It's cholestastis and it almost killed both of us.

I'm fine now, Jamie is fine too. Early and small (but gaining quickly)...the kid wanted out. What can I say?

I'm so in love.