May you jump out of bed like this one does every single morning. She doesn't want to miss a thing!
Postpartum Check
Wednesday, August 25, 2021
I saw the obstetrician and gyn-oncologist this week. Both were happy with my healing. My OB was kind enough to order tests to check pituitary function, but does not think there's an issue. (Thanks for the heads up, Mom!)
The oncologist said he was lifting all restrictions. I can exercise, lift, run, etc. -- "ANYTHING you want." Such a far cry from six weeks ago . . . and the entire pregnancy really!
For I will restore your health; I will heal your injuries. -Jeremiah 30:17
First Day of School!
Monday, August 23, 2021
We are so glad to be back! They met their teachers yesterday. Sweet Pea was assigned a desk next to her crush who is her "boyfriend, but not THAT type of boyfriend. A boy, who is a friend. That type of boyfriend." We'll see how long the seating arrangement lasts...
There were lots of nerves, not just the kids'.
But we are so happy with their school!
They wanted to do a boys' shot and a girls' shot.
I may or may not have had a slug on my shoe after this.
We had morning assembly again -- finally! It's as much for the parents as the kids. So many people asked me how I was and said they were praying for me. My fellow accreta-surviving mom, who sent us her cleaning lady, told me she was on dialysis in ICU because she had kidney failure before they stabilized her. I gave her a huge hug. I've been thinking about affection more. After this ordeal, I feel much more affection for everyone.
Two Years of the Fifth!
Sunday, August 22, 2021
Our sweet California boy is two.
We woke up singing "Happy Birthday," to which he shouted "No!" at all of us. Because he's two.
He blew out his own candle.
This was almost cool, which is a metaphor for my life now:
Anyway, our Fifth is perhaps our most affectionate son. He loves to give hugs and kisses and always (ALWAYS!) runs to greet me when I exit my bedroom or come home from somewhere. I don't deserve him. He is amazing. Stats will be late as our doctor is on maternity leave. Here are some gift-opening pics. (Thank you, everyone!)
Well, first a wrestle-hug. Can we call this a wrug? He belongs in this family!
Current Stats:
Height- 28 lbs., 4 oz., 50th%
Weight- 2'10", 39th%
Head- 19.69", 80th%
Previous Stats:
Out with the Eldest
He picked the same restaurant and table as his brother (after receiving parameters: a place that sells a salad. So, not McD or In-N-Out) and after confirming they sell shakes. He wanted to try everything on the menu, a boy after my own heart, LOL!❤
We chatted about the great move and how he was doing with that, his new/not-so-new school, and life in general. It's so great to have one-on-one time with these kids.
Out with the Engineer
Friday, August 20, 2021
How are you doing? -Mom
Good. -Engineer
Do you like this place?
Yes.
What are you thinking about?
Cheeseburgers.
[DH had the same conversation Tuesday. So, at least he's consistent! 😂❤]
"Mom, can you take my picture on this swing? It's really cool that they put a swing here." This child is continuously thinking. He never has "nothing" on his mind and has the need to resolve burning questions before moving on to the next topic. Yesterday, I put a letter in the mail to his very first teacher. He wrote her about his new baby brother and his birth date and his toddler brother and his birth date. And he drew her a sketch of them. His brain is pretty special.
Out with Sweet Pea
Thursday, August 19, 2021
"Can we listen to Taylor Swift? It will not make me think of marriage. 'Phineas and Ferb' makes me think of marriage... When they kiss on the lips."
 |
| With her requested Strawberry Lemonade from Panera. |
[I turn on "Our Song" followed by "Love Story."]
"Are you thinking about marriage now?"
"No," with a side-eye and smirk.
"Are you sure you're not thinking about marrying [your crush]?"
"No. I just miss him."
😅 I will need ten thousand angels to parent this one through to adulthood. 🙏
 |
| At Noguchi Garden. |
Out with Mr. Serious
Wednesday, August 18, 2021
He talked nonstop for a half-hour beginning with, "When I was a young man..." 😂❤ I love this kid so much!
40 Weeks / One Month Old!
Tuesday, August 17, 2021
Baby Sol gained three pounds and three inches since birth! He is 8.5 lbs., 20.5", which is the 69th% & 61st% respectively (among premies). He is just now 9 months. His measurements mirror the Eldest's except he's heavier. The best projection for his adult percentages will be circa 2 years old; but he is not behind!
He was not having this photo shoot. The below shows you what his fan club is like:
Old But Good
"In one way we think a great deal too much of the atomic bomb. 'How are we to live in an atomic age?' I am tempted to reply: 'Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat any night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents.' In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation. Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented: and quite a high percentage of us were going to die in unpleasant ways. We had, indeed, one very great advantage over our ancestors—anesthetics; but we have that still. It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world which already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty. This is the first point to be made: and the first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds."
-C.S. Lewis, On Living in an Atomic Age, 1948
Hope.
Monday, August 16, 2021
"Your children were very well behaved," an older couple told us after Mass yesterday. They were sitting directly behind us. So, they were informed. It gave me hope that our 10-year-work-in-progress was bearing fruit. We had some elbowing and a few Irish whispers (Sweet Pea. Ahem.), but were more attentive and calmer than in the past. All bets are off with the two-year-old, who was outside. We've come to expect that. But, it's encouraging when people who've gone before you tell you you're on the right track. +
Negotiations
Sunday, August 15, 2021
"Who's going to wipe and clear the table; and who's going to sweep the floor?" -Mom
[Negotiations]
"[The Engineer] said I have to give him $15 if I want him to sweep the floor!" -Firstborn, outraged
"How are you going to solve the problem?"
[Negotiations]
"Mom, [the Firstborn] is giving me $16 to clean the floor three times." -Engineer
"Does it have to be three times in a row/the next three days?"
[One most clarify these details.]
"Yes."
[2e pause]
"Mom, I'm going to be rich when I'm big. Then I'm going to give all my money to the poor so I can go to heaven." -Engineer
"That's great, Bud! How did we land at $16?" -Mom
"I found another dollar in my pocket." -Firstborn
My Placenta Accreta Story: Part 2
Friday, August 13, 2021
"Love and sacrifice are closely linked, like the sun and the light.”
Wednesday, July 14th.
The happiest of coincidences was that St. Kateri's memorial fell on the same day as my scheduled caesarean. We did not have a choice in the date. It was the day the oncologist was available. That was a sign to me of the Lord's hand in this baby's conception, birth, and mission. The convergence gave me tremendous peace. DH brought my St. Kateri Rosary, on which I'd prayed for my future husband so many times. I held it in my right hand, while I was being prepared for delivery.
The hardest part, I thought, would be the placement of an epidural, which I hadn't had since the Engineer's birth. (Spinals are sufficient for normal c-section deliveries because their length is pretty short.) This time, everything was a bit different when they were preparing me. For example, they used different parts of my arm to place the normal lines. There were two lines placed right away (eventually, there were 6 at once). Overall, I felt tremendous courage compared to previous surgeries -- no doubt due to all the prayers! The routine things were not so bad. I was just hoping to make it through the epidural and delivery. There was talk back and forth about whether the hysterectomy would happen that day. I got the sense that not all the medical experts agreed; but it became a moot point at delivery.
The epidural line was a little stubborn; and I kept letting staff know that I could still feel my right leg. I could still lift my right leg. It took two times "moving back" the line to put my right side asleep. I became a little terrified that I would feel something during the delivery; but the anesthesiologist kept working to ensure that the epidural worked. It eventually did. + I had a few moments in the pre-op room when I thought about the baby having Down syndrome; and I prayed that we'd be good parents to whoever the baby was with all his gifts and limitations. I also prayed a lot for all the intentions that were sent to me; and the intentions on my heart and in my moms' prayer group. Between moments of great fear, I remembered other people who needed prayers, asked the Lord to take care of them, and then received tremendous peace. +
Most of the medical professionals were uptight, which wasn't great for relaxing. DH said, "I think doctors are like lawyers, all Type-A." It was helpful once I was fully sedated and skilled, proactive professionals were completely necessary. After the epidural, they wheeled me into the interventional radiology room to place vascular sheaths and balloons to stop blood flow to the uterus if needed postpartum. That process took about an hour; and I felt calm through it. The anesthesiologist told me she gave me some sedative to help. +
I was then wheeled to the regular operating room, which DH described looking "like they were going to war." It was much bigger than the labor & delivery OR, and, again, I was glad I was partly sedated. My OB came to me just before she began the C-section and said, "Good news: I talked [the oncologist] into a bikini incision!" I just kept praying that the Lord guide the doctors' hands. The oncologist wanted a vertical incision, which was NIH's suggested approach for accreta delivery (to avoid the placenta); but my OB strongly preferred a bikini incision. I thought it may be better if that's the surgery she knows . . . and perhaps she hasn't ever had to perform a vertical caesarean. I'd told her I just wanted what was best for baby and me.
There were MANY people in the operating room. I hoped and prayed that they would all agree and work diligently on the best approach to my care. At this point, we were much less worried about the baby because he'd made it to 35 weeks and was in a hospital. I kept making crosses on my index finger with my thumb. "Lord, guide the doctors' hands." "St. Luke, pray for me!" The entire experience was incredibly spiritual. I'm so grateful for my faith, without which I would not have made it through.
Baby Sol was delivered pretty quickly. My uterus ruptured during the delivery, immediately eliminating delayed hysterectomy as a treatment option. They had to do the hysterectomy right then. The oncologist walked into the room; the OBs exited. Someone was called from ICU to begin installing my "A-line" for reception of blood. Beforehand, my OB allowed a photo with the baby. A nurse (or pediatrician) put him up to my cheek, which was something I'd asked about before delivery: Was there any chance for skin-to-skin right away? I don't remember this moment, but am so glad DH captured it! I remember DH telling me that baby was here and I saw him and he was perfect.
DH was such an anchor of dependability and strength through the entire process. I've wondered about the tables being turned and how scared I'd be were it him in the OR. He was there and walked through every step with me, despite so many uncertainties. I am so grateful for him! +
He was whisked out of the operating room pretty quickly. It was a long wait: 3 hours. I was told that's not terribly long for a caesarean hysterectomy because the bleeding interferes with swift cauterizing. At one point, DH saw my OB in the hall and asked her what was taking so long. She said they were having a hard time controlling the bleeding. Meanwhile, DH was able to hold baby and be with him.
When the hysterectomy was complete and the bleeding stopped, I was wheeled into the ICU. They had replaced almost all of my body's blood. (Thank you, blood donors!) They were happy that I was stable. And DH received an update that all was well. He could visit me.
While he was coming, they discovered that I'd begun to bleed heavily again. When they turned me to the side, there were pools of blood underneath me. Everything was covered in blood. They rushed me back to the IR (interventional radiology). The radiologist was able to determine a groin artery where a blood clot pressured and then burst the artery. This was the scariest part because it wasn't expected (although massive hemorrhage causes it). The doctors were all on-edge. DH messaged so many people asking for prayers. Doctors apologized that he couldn't see me yet. They embolized the artery via gelfoam slurry guided by multi-directional angiography. A prophylactic embolism was performed in the other leg/groin artery, which demonstrated bulging, ostensibly due to another clot from massive hemorrhage. The occlusions took an hour. Then, they observed me for another 2 hours. Meanwhile, more blood was pumped into me. By the time they were finished, they'd replaced 23 units of blood. When I was again stable, they wheeled me back to ICU, where DH told me I looked "terrible" -- tremendously bloated from the fluids they pumped into me to save my life, intubated, and incoherent. He did not take a picture. He told me that I "made a terrible face" when he said they took my uterus, tubes, and cervix; but smiled when he said they saved my ovaries. I don't remember this conversation at all. There were several conversations people told me about the following day of which I have no recollection.
Thursday, July 15th.
I woke up in ICU, intubated. My nurse told me it was 6am on Thursday. I'd wondered what happened and felt very panicked about the tube in my throat. I couldn't talk or swallow. DH came soon. I recall -- almost as a dream -- the nurses telling me, "Your husband called. He'll be here shortly." They told me that I was in surgery for a long time; and some of them said with less confidence than I'd like that I was going to be okay.
My OB came first thing on her shift. She asked me how I was doing, which I couldn't answer with the tube in my throat. She held my hand and asked me if I was scared. I nodded. She told me I was going to be okay. It had been a harrowing day prior, but everything was good now. It made me cry. I feel asleep again. When I woke up, I was alone. I felt very scared. I thought that if one more thing happened, I would surely die. I prayed that the Lord didn't let me get sepsis or covid or anything else -- and that He restore me to full health. (I was then very glad I'd received the Covid vaccines!) I thought about friends who'd gone through death or long ICU stays and prayed for them.
I overheard the staff talk about the patients and flirt with each other and joke about infidelity. It hurt my soul. I prayed for them. One particularly obnoxious staffer grabbed the log and began reading aloud the ailments for which each patient was in the ICU. The covid patient he referred to as "Not-Trump Positive." I recalled how much worse Jesus must have felt when He himself was being taunted while dying.
In contrast, several nurses came by to check on me. Each said something like, "I was helping in the operating room yesterday. I'm SO GLAD you are doing well. You had us all worried!" A couple of them started to cry. Even nursing staff outside of the OR was totally aware of what had happened; and several of them checked in to say hi. I was both touched and convinced that Wednesday was a harrowing day. It made me cry. I thanked God that I was "okay" and asked that He help get my tube removed so I could also feel okay.
DH came. He told me he had been holding the baby, which made me feel so much better. The staff wanted to reunite baby and me; but they did not want to expose baby to all the ICU germs. So, their goal was to move me to postpartum, where I could be with baby. DH gave me a synopsis of what happened. While he was there, the pulmonologist, my ICU boss doctor, came. I motioned to have the tube removed. He said not yet. The nurse told him that my obstetrician was okay with removing it. He gave her a stern lecture that he was the boss. It made me feel panicked -- like my throat was someone's proof of manhood. Thanks be to God, he came later that afternoon and gave the nurse permission to removed the tube! (There was a bit of fluid in my lungs; and my blood/oxygenation level was low: 91.)
I tried to use sign language (ASL) to tell DH to call my mom. He didn't understand. So, he passed me his phone. I typed, slowly (no glasses), M-O-M. So, he called my mom. I felt really bad for her the moment I realized she must have been so worried. I just wanted to tell her I loved her. DH didn't realize this at first so he was just making small talk with mom. I motioned the ASL "I love you" sign, which he thought was directed at him. (It normally is.) Then, I pointed to myself, made the sign, and touched his phone. "You love your mom?" I nodded. He relayed the message. Goodness, does a brush with death make you want to say all the things! +
My nurse began to remove the sheaths. The interventional radiologist came in to ask her several questions. When she answered them all, he asked her a follow up question of whose answer she was unsure. He said let's find that out first. (I don't recall what the question was.) She went to call the sheath manufacturer to get the answer. I could hear the laminated instructions being unfolded when she came back and meticulously followed the written protocol for sheath removal. It made me feel panicked. I looked asleep but heard everything. I again made crosses on my index fingers (and thighs) with my thumbs and asked the Lord to please guide her hands and not allow any more blood loss. Prayers and God's grace are the only things that carried me through. I do not have that level of psychological stamina normally! + The sheaths were removed over the course of an hour each, during which the nurse monitored blood flow in the artery. She waited an hour between sheaths. Afterward, I had to keep my legs still for 6 hours.
The time went by quickly. They removed the epidural line. Then, I had just 4 lines left in my arms and a Foley catheter. They continued to give potassium, IV pain meds, and something to make me pee, which absolutely worked! Once I'd processed that medication, the nurse said I needed only to maintain my current fluid level and removed the Foley catheter.
Around the same time, the ex-tubation team arrived. DH was again in the room and watched, which I don't recommend doing. It did not hurt, but was not pretty! The pulmonologist told me to rest and not talk, which was impossible. I felt so relieved to have the tube out! I asked DH what had happened. He and the ICU nurse filled me in. I turned to DH and asked him if he had been scared when I went back in to the IR/OR for bleeding. He said he'd never been so scared in his life. At some point, he had peace and confidence that the doctors were going to figure it out and keep me alive. + DH kept so many people posted; and put out so many prayer requests. We were covered totally in prayer. I am so grateful!
My nurse said they wanted to reunite baby and me very soon, but I needed one more night in the ICU.
DH went back to feed the baby. I was brought a regular dinner, spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread. I asked if I was allowed to eat that after the tube. My nurse said, "If you can, yes," and also brought me jello and apple juice. She said my blood sugar was low. They'd emptied my stomach the previous day. I was pleasantly surprised to be able to eat solid food right away. Shortly afterward, DH returned with the Eucharist. A friend had a pyx and was able to obtain a Host for me. So one of the first things I consumed after the tube came out was the Holy Eucharist. + It was a wonderful blessing, which DH brought to me all the rest of my hospital days.
During that visit, DH talked about feeling a bit overwhelmed. He said so many people were asking if they could help in any way. We moved the meal train up to begin right away. And then, help began pouring in! Notre Dame friends offered to take the kids for the weekend, which was an amazing assist after the kids passed their cold to my mom. She was mostly out of commission. (The kids were better.) The meal train had 2 months filled almost immediately. Someone delivered dinner that night. Earlier that afternoon, two of the Engineer's assistant teachers brought lots of In-N-Out burgers. The Eldest received a care package and an encouraging note from his teacher. So many helpers started to show up in so many different ways. + ❤🙏
Friday, July 18th.
The next day, DH brought my phone. I got my glasses back from the OR. I had many unread messages. I started to message people about what had happened (from what I'd gathered). I felt bad for people wondering, and honestly wanted the prayers and human interaction. It helped a lot. I started to feel like things were going to be okay. DH had sent me texts about what happened:
I'd never been so grateful to be married to him. ❤🙏
DH went back to hold baby. My whole body started to hurt... the heavy duty pain meds were wearing off. I wanted to get up and sit at the edge of my bed. I tried to do that alone, but lost a blood clot when I stood up. It caused a panic attack. My nurse came; and I cried on her because I was afraid of one more bad thing happening and killing me. She said, "You've been through a lot. It's okay." (Side note: ICU beds are much harder to get out of. They're taller and they have alarms to alert staff if you try to get out alone.) She helped me to the bathroom, which totally winded me. The toilet was Montessori-sized. I asked her if I was really supposed to crouch down that far after having abdominal surgery. She said, yes, it's small and, "I'm not sure why it's so low." I waited until DH arrived. He helped me toilet -- God bless him! It was easier than previous caesareans, surprisingly!
Several nurses again came to check in on me during shift change. One started crying and said she was so glad I made it. Another said she went to bed thinking about me. One wore a cross on her lanyard. It was at my eye-level when they turned me in bed. It was a great consolation.
That evening, they moved me to postpartum. I couldn't believe how quickly they were able to move me from ICU after all of that! The director of obstetrics told me, "You're lucky you're young!" Postpartum was much more comfortable. I was able to hold the baby for the first time:
I attempted nursing and gave him lots of kisses.
It was a long night as is always the case the first couple nights after giving birth. My body was very sore; and I wondered if the pain meds were working. They seemed to be okay in the middle of the cycle, but I'd wake up with pain for the last 90 minutes, just waiting for it to be time for the next pill. Thankfully, the pulmonologist gave permission for a 3-hr cycle so I could more easily get out of bed and toilet myself because the pain was preventing movement. (This improved significantly by day 10 post-op; and I was able to get off all pain meds.)
Saturday, July 16th.
I had a wonderful nurse over the weekend. She was completely focused on improving my blood/oxygenation level. She brought me an Airlife spirometer, which was the gentlest helper in building back lung capacity. She kept me on oxygen, but was able to lower the saturation because I kept improving. I hadn't even anticipated this complication of blood loss and fluid reception. However, things improved; and she kept cheering me on as I went from 91 to 95 to 98.
All but one of my postpartum nurses were angels, who brought fresh cut fruit and Graham crackers and water and pain meds. I had another panic attack the 4th night; but my nurse told me that that was common after bodily trauma and should improve in time. It was strange not being able to stop hyperventilating. "Think about something else," she said. That was kind of hilarious -- and much easier to do at home!
Sunday, July 18th.
The hospital had given me a room with a beautiful wall of windows with plantation shutters. The sun came up every morning and improved my mood significantly. On Sunday, I took my first shower in 4 days. It felt amazing. DH brought my special shampoo and helped ensure I didn't fall.
The baby was discharged. He'd had phototherapy, body temperature monitoring, and weight gain. They were happy with his stability. Thankfully, I was allowed to have DH and baby stay as my guests that night. I really wanted to be near baby. I'd prayed that we'd still bond; and worked on building my milk supply, which was significantly lower than after previous deliveries.
Monday, July 19th.
The following day, they gave me a great nurse. She told me all kinds of encouraging things about having many kids (She had 4.) and being a nurse and Christian. She also told me the entire medical team was clapping and cheering for me the previous Wednesday when they finally wheeled me out of surgery. It was very encouraging. They knew I was unconscious.
The medical team worked hard to discharge me Monday afternoon. Over the course of the six-day hospital stay, they'd run close to 140 tests, including a CT scan, sonogram, x-rays, and many blood tests. All of my blood had been replaced more than twice. I'd been quickly stabilized by God's grace, the determination of many medical professionals, and the generosity of dozens of blood donors. I had several follow up appointments ordered.
I know it is going to take time to recover, physically, emotionally, and mentally. But what matters is that baby and I are alive! A tremendous community of friends and family has shown up and supported us, even a few who are processing worse traumas. I am already better-off for the experience, harrowing though it was. And my gratitude continues to grow as I ponder these things.
+ While being wheeled to the minivan, the nurse's lanyard was twisted to reveal the Divine Mercy image on its back. That was the last thing I saw. Jesus, I trust in You. +
Photo credit: Wikipedia.
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