We did it!!!!!
I'm still very out of it and since most of you correspond with Lars via his Facebook thingy I'm sure most of you already know the details, but I'll tell you what I can.
The stats: 6#13oz and 19 inches on 11/28/2008 at 11:05 am.
Now the juicy details:
It was definitely odd to walk into the hospital on Friday morning without being in full-blown labor. I was shaking like a leaf, so many nerves. The kids were safe at home with Gramma, but when we left them there were tears from Annike. Anyway, they put me on the monitor, I was contracting every 3-minutes. I think a lot of it had to do with me being dehydrated since I hadn't been allowed to eat or drink anything since midnight. I was having a touch of spotting, though, so it may have been early labor -- or nothing, the early labor idea makes me feel better since I have very mixed feelings about bringing out a baby before they indicate that they're ready. It took two tries to get my IV started, so now I have big bruises on both of my wrists. Oh well. Everyone was so nice to us, they pulled out all the stops and made me feel very safe. The anesthesiologist was wonderful despite my skepticism about anesthesia. I had two nurses, they were super reassuring. Mr Doctor OB came and visited me several times before we got started to reassure me that this was the "right thing" and so on. Finally, we walked to the OR where it was about 20 degrees. They sat me up on the table and got ready to give me the spinal when the results of my hemoglobin came back (very low, surprise, surprise). The anesthesiologist stopped everything and said we needed to wait until the blood bank had all my blood type and screen information. 30 minutes later, after freezing my bedonk off and getting more and more nervous and barfy by the minute we started. Mr Doctor OB came and wrapped his arms around me and whispered sweet nothings in my ear while Dr Anesthesia placed the spinal. I could feel it move from my toes up, all warm and happy. They laid me down on the table, I felt amazing. In fact I told them so just as I managed to catch my reflection in the OR light, I was completely naked from the ribs down, my arms out to the side and my legs spread eagle . . . yeah, great image. Nevertheless, I felt great. Then, in walked the two surgeons, one was Mr Doctor OB and the other was Dr Samina!!! Who, you say? When I was still working as a labor and delivery nurse in Detroit, one of the residents doing her training there was Samina. Apparently, she's moved out to SoCal where she occasionally assists in the complicated surgeries of the group of physicians that I was seeing. How seriously crazy is that?!? Anyway, I felt like the surgery went really well. The Baby came out without a hitch, she cried right away and I absolutely lost it. I never thought I'd see the day when she and I would both make it through this scary pregnancy alive. I really, truly thought one of us was going to die. After that, I know that Mr Doctor and Dr Samina spent a lot of time controlling the bleeding and "cleaning out" my uterus really well. As soon as he got the placenta out, Mr Doctor let me know that it came out very well without any problems. They continued to be very attentive to the bleeding, I could smell all the burning as the cauterized each vessel. It smelled like Burger King. Yeah, I dare you to eat there now. Finally, they finished. I still felt great. They transferred me to a rolling bed and wheeled me down the hall to my private room (a rare find at this particular hospital). It was on the way down the hallway that my vision disappeared. Shortly after that, I started feeling very nauseous. Then my hands and face started with a cold sweat. I was so confused that I couldn't even say anything. They realized that I was hypothermic, my internal body temperature was very low and I wasn't even shivering. I was also bradycardic, very low heart rate. The bleeding was stable. By the end of the night, there was a tube connected to every extremity and orifice of my body, there wasn't a body cavity left unexplored much to my chagrin. But, I was lucid enough at some point that when they started asking me whether or not they could proceed with certain procedures I had the wherewithal to decline them. I prefer the wait and see approach.
At some point, the kids came and we named our new little girl Tova. Many people speculated, wrongly, that this was the Hebrew version meaning "good." Many speculated, correctly, that we had chosen the Scandinavian one meaning "beautiful thunder" or "beautiful Thor." Petra picked the name, we all love it.
Though I never felt cold or the symptoms of the bradycardia, I did my best to be compliant. I also took lots of morphine and toradol. Life was good. Mr Doctor and Dr Anesthesia stayed on their toes for me all night. By morning, it seemed like I was stable. By the early evening I had been able to get out of bed and walk from one end of the room to the bathroom and back -- it took me about an hour. The next day (Sunday) I felt even better, my temperature was almost normal and my heart rate was climbing into the high-50's. We talked blood transfusion, but Lars and I decided to wait and see. I still wasn't able to walk on my own, but the room had stopped spinning when I was sitting still. They wouldn't discharge me home yet and the kids were having a very rough time, despite my mom taking very good care of them. Lars and I decided he should stay at home that night. Last night, I stayed alone at the hospital. I kept Tova in the bed with me because I wasn't very steady on my feet yet and certainly didn't feel comfortable walking from the bassinet to my bed with her. In another odd set of events, the nurse taking care of me was someone I had befriended several months ago while she was working as a traveling nurse at the hospital that I currently work at. During the night, my temperature dropped again but my heart rate was in the low 60's. I mastered walking from bed to toilet and back all by myself. I took vicodin and toradol injections for pain control. In the morning I was ready to go home. The pediatrician came in and cleared Tova, but because of her small size said we needed to feed often and keep a hat on her head. The lactation consultant visited and approved of Tova's stellar latch, my milk came in yesterday morning. Then Mr. Doctor OB came in, I had been dozing and my glasses were not on my face, but he's got a very distinct soft voice -- he said "oh my, Kelly, your boobs are standing straight up!" If it weren't for the 20-staples holding my lower abdomen together I would have had a good chuckle. It's absolutely hilarious to me that as a specialist in women's health he's amazed by breast engorgement. Anyway, we went round and round about a blood transfusion. I gave him my word I would do diligent iron replacement once I got home. "Home," he queried, "you can't go home today." Round and round again, I won, he signed the discharge papers. The nurse came in to help me get things together. She turned to me at one point, with a sincere and concerned look on her face, "how are you doing, Kelly?" To which I responded, "sob, sob, sob, sob, deep breathing, snotty nose, sob, sob sob." I tell ya, I almost changed my mind and agreed to stay another 24-hours at that point. After all, they had really good tea there, the bed did all the moving for me, somebody else changed Tova's diapers, there was a bench in the shower for me to sit on and everyone treated me like a princess. But, I really wanted to be at home for the kids. I was really sick of the hospital food. And finally, it's my prerogative if I take my next Vicodin dose 25-minutes early, no? Lars and my mom arrived shortly after that, they helped me finish getting my things together while I took one last shower with that wonderful water pressure and wooden bench. A stream of nurses came in to say goodbye and wish us luck. Everyone was so kind. After a bit of a struggle, I was finally able to mount the step up into the mini-van, where I sat in the back next to Tova. Of course, on the way home I got car sick so we had all the windows open with the AC on. No biggie. Maggie greeted Tova very enthusiastically at the door, she wagged her tail vigorously and stuffed her face into Tova's belly several times. Then she came running over to me, as I was only 1/8 way down the walk at this point, to say hi. She cried mournfully and asked me never to leave her again. I gave her a pat, then Lars came to help me the rest of the way inside. I sat down in our glider, that my mom painstakingly revived by cleaning off the previous seven years of baby puke and breast milk, and ate soup from Panera. Then I took Tova and my seriously large and rock-hard boobs off to bed. I woke up to Petra staring into my face, "Mommy, you're here!" Awww, so sweet. Soren came rushing in to show me that he had earned a yellow stripe for his belt at karate that afternoon. Annike came in and gave Tova a million kisses. Eventually, both girls were in bed with me while we crooned and marveled over Tova. Petra is getting very confident at holding her and can't wait for us to let her carry Tova around the house. We're both thinking Tova needs a bit more head control and body fat before we let that happen, Petra is happy that the onus is on Tova to reach those milestones since it's clear that she is quite capable and responsible enough to tote a dinky baby.
The neighbor brought us some casseroles, one with chicken and one vegetarian, and my mom made a salad for dinner. The kids did some homework, Petra very sweetly helped Annike do her math (yes, her school sends home math homework for their 3-year olds . . . ridiculous, but she likes doing it so we've conceded). The older three are asleep in their beds, I imagine it's a matter of time before they're asleep in our bed. Tova is swaddled in a couple of blankets, she's in the bassinet next to me squeaking and grunting, apparently hungry. She's wearing the bunting from Grandma Peg (handed down from Annike), Petra made sure that it would be the first 'jammie' Tova would wear. That little girl of mine is so darn perspicacious. Maggie is pressing her hot, hairy little body up to mine as close as she can get without sitting on me. Lars is in the kitchen making lunches for the kids and watching Lauren on The Hills. My mom is next to me ironing. She leaves tomorrow morning, I've already had several panic attacks about this and begged her to stay. She's leaving tomorrow and that is that. We'll be fine. I know it.
I go in to Mr Doctor OB's office on Wednesday to get my vital signs check and the staples out. Tova will go in on Wednesday, as well. Karah and Kristen and Mike and Janelle have been trying to help anyway they can, the offers alone are helpful and endearing.
I am very content. I'm so anemic and dizzy that all I can do is stay in bed and have people attend to my every need. I'm post-partum enough that I need not get involved in other people's problems. I have a 4th child, which is a dream come true. My husband is in the kitchen with an apron on. I can eat whatever I want because my shrimpy baby breastfeeds every 1-1/2 hours. All the ironing is done by my mom, who came all this way to help us and hasn't been preachy or advicey or anything but angelically helpful. My dog loves me more than anything. My boobs are perky and huge if not a tad tender, but hey . . . that's what the Vicodin is for, no? And all four of my children are sleeping peacefully. Now you tell me, how could it get better?
Here's our little Tova at 12-days old.
