It's been 3 weeks and 3 days since PKIT 5.0 was born. 3 weeks and 3 days of serious ups and downs. Of darkness and of so much needed light. In the last three weeks we have been blessed with people checking in on us as a family, on H, on the VIT, and on the girls. I have been blessed to have numerous people check up on me. For the most part I've been fine...no not really. I was fine for the first week or so. Week two hit me like a ton of bricks. Familiar, scary, dark bricks that made life scary and anxiety-ridden. Difficulties with nursing compounded these bricks and the all-too-familiar PPD/PPA had set in. I tried to smile and muscle through. I've done this before, I know the right responses. I know how to make it seem like I'm fine. But to live a transparent, no-stigma, life, I was not fine. I was spiraling into the abyss that only others who have been down this road (or loved someone who runs down this road) can identify with. When the darkness began to be all that was, I reached out. I reached out to numerous people. I was honest. I let them know I was not okay. That I was struggling. That I was losing the battle and that my breaking point was near. They reassured me that I had done the right and good thing. That I wasn't alone. And that they'd be there for the road back to healthy.
Part of the road was deciding that nursing wasn't going to work this time around. Anatomy of me, anatomy of the PKIT, mental health of me, and some clear issues with his tolerance of my milk was making all of this really too much to juggle. We have been supplementing since he was born. He has a voracious appetite, and in the end, it was the straw that had to go in order to not break me. This decision was not one I entered into lightly. It was one that came filled with guilt, and shame, and tears, and crying jags. It was one that my rationale medical mind knew had to be made but my irrational mama heart couldn't quite commit to. It took a good and dear set of friends who told me that I needed to do this, to remain in my commitment to the PKIT being alive and healthy AND me being alive and healthy. They gave this support with humor, and grace, boatloads of sarcasm (which I appreciate on an intense level), love, and straight talk. There were buckets of tears but there were also huge and heavy sighs of relief. There was the reassurance of a teeny young man who has continued to consistently fall asleep and breath deep baby breaths while splayed across me. Never have I been both relieved and tired at the same time. Cuddles continue.
As we continue to navigate this post-partum life, I know I'm not anywhere near being healthy. But I'll get there. Everyday I will have my rituals that will get me through the tough times and I'll give myself grace when I don't get some or all of them done. I'll be thankful for the easy times and gentle when the darkness looms. It's a process.
If you are reading this and it seems all too familiar, REACH OUT. Likely we are friends (on FB and probably in real life). I'm available. You don't have to spill all the tea but you can just say, I'm not OK, I'm having a rough day, I'm thinking this feeling isn't right, anything. I will listen. I will take you to Target. Or Sonic. Or we can just go ride around, in awkward silence in my awesome 93 Honda or the Black Suburban Bus. I got you. I won't let go. You and I both deserve to be healthy. I'm willing to walk that road with you.
To those who are currently walking with me...I love you to the moon and back. Thank you for all you've done, or said, or written. I'm blessed beyond measure and I couldn't be doing this without you. Near or far, doesn't matter, I got you.
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
Oh the afternoon you were born...
One of my favorite children's books ever is On the night you were born by Tracy Tillman. Each and every time I've ever read that book it makes me teary. Even just thinking about it as I type, I'm tearing up. It's a perfect testament to a parent's love and anticipation for the child they've waited and hoped for. It's about how all of the pain, tension, and worries melt away and how their coming is celebratory. It's what I thought I would feel, utterly and completely when PKIT 5.0 came into this world. It was what I was used to. It's what I know to be true. However, the universe was gonna throw a curve ball this time. One big, huge, fat, fucking curve ball that had only a couple of outcomes.
Almost two weeks post birth I can say with confidence that we are fine but emotionally, I'm not as well as I could be. The birth experience this time around was traumatic, and terrifying, and almost ended in both of us not being alive. First and foremost I give thanks to an L&D nurse who took my "birth plan" of no death seriously and made damn sure that both our son and I were making it out of that OR that afternoon. I also give thanks to an anesthesiologist and an OB who were equally committed to me becoming part of a damn scary statistic of maternal death in childbirth. Without this amazing team, and a whole heap of luck and the good Lord pulling some serious grace, I don't think I'd be hear writing this as my sweet baby son sleeps soundly at my side.
Part of my recovery is including some therapy to help me work through the trauma and resulting post-traumatic stress. I am seeing a professional and I am committed to working through this. One thing I knew would need to happen would be that I would need to get the entire experience out. To be unashamed that my birth was about as different as I could have ever hoped or imagine it would be. So, in whatever form this takes, my apologies. It's part of the process.
On Thursday October 24th I went to my normal weekly appointment after being in labor (non-productive/slowly productive) for over 48 hours complete with a trip to L&D earlier that week only to be let go to labor at home. My blood pressure was slowly rising and I had classic headache and swelling of my hands and feet. My provider felt that even though I was at 37 weeks I was moderately deteriorating and it was time to get things moving. The VIT and I went home, got the bags and headed off to the hospital for what we thought would be a routine induction (we had one with the last PKIT and it was flawless). We were triaged for several hours while we waited for an L&D room to open up. We joked, a dear work friend joined me to make the time pass, it was pretty benign. We were finally moved over to an L&D suite about 3:45pm. About 4pm the anesthesiologist showed up to get my epidural started and get pitocin started.
The epidural was pretty typical. I'd done this several times before but this time there were a few twinges of pain that I'd never had before but I thought nothing of it. As I laid back down I glanced at the clock and realized it was about 7 min after 4:00pm. Within 3 minutes I noticed that I was having difficulty hearing. I mentioned this to my L&D nurse and she asked if I was having fuzzy vision, initially I said no but on second thought, I answered yes. She immediately looked and noticed that my blood pressure was rapidly dropping and to boot the baby's heart rate was plummeting and not coming back up. She immediately put me on high flow oxygen. She had me turning in the bed to try and relieve any pressure that might have been on the baby. I was rapidly deteriorating. I instinctively knew this. All of a sudden they were breaking my water and then within minutes we were literally running down a hallway to an OR. The VIT and my work friend were left behind. I distinctly remember locking eyes with the VIT and doing my best to assure him that everything was fine and I'd be okay. To be brutally honest, I thought and was in fact, fading fast. My blood pressure was hovering around 55/22. When I was wheeled into the OR I calmly and collectively climbed over onto the table and just did as I was told (those who know me know that only when things are getting serious do I shut up and do as needed). I was not even fully draped and they began cutting. Everyone in the OR (probably about 10-12 people there) commented on how calm I seemed to be. I distinctly remember telling my L&D nurse that if there had to be one of us to go that it was to be me. Harrison must be saved at all costs. She assured me she understood. Before I knew it I heard him cry. He was quite grey but he was alive. They immediately rushed him to a warmer and the VIT came in. The VIT and PKIT 5.0 were taken to a neonatal suite next to the OR to be stabilized. I knew he was alive and that is all that mattered. I knew I'd done my job. I'd brought him to this side of the veil. I've never felt more peaceful. From the time I'd initially said I was having trouble hearing to him being born was just under 14 minutes. To say this was an emergency is an understatement. This was a life or death situation that fortunately and by shear grace, ended up with us following the "birth plan". He was alive and I was alive, that's all that matters.
It took about an hour to stitch me up. It is not a pretty scar but it one well earned. As I was taken to recovery I was able to talk about what happened and the reality of all that happened and could have happened came rushing in. I deeply respect the nurses and providers that came to help. They told me it took almost 6 rounds of epinephrine to keep my heart pumping. I was fading fast. I almost died. Amazingly I never lost consciousness. Luckily the PKIT, although in some respiratory distress, has a good bit of his mama in him and fought his way back and was out of NICU and in my arms in just under 24 hours.
As we navigate this new piece of life I am reminded daily about how damn lucky we are to both be here and to be alive. I'm grateful beyond belief but I am changed. The sounds of helicopters, the commercials of babies in hospitals, the thoughts of what could have been are heart stopping. The tears are always sort of on the surface. This level of vulnerability is not easy for me. I dislike it A LOT. But in order to practice what I preach and to ensure this situation does not hold power over me, I must feel all the things. I am committed to doing the work. If you see me getting "emotional" there is a reason. I am super grateful to be alive but I'm pissed that it had to be like this. But simultaneously I know that I cannot control the winds, only trim my sails. I'll be okay. Someday.
I'm sure there are things I'm forgetting and somethings that are far too raw to completely put out there but for now, this is a start. If you've read all this, thank you. I'm glad this is out there. Maybe it's the piece of the puzzle to help get to the next part. Life marches on around here. Now I must attend to the little dude...he has a way of getting his needs met :)
P.S. My fellow c-section mommas..hats off to y'all. This isnt for the weak of heart! Having done both sides, I'll choose a vaginal birth ANY DAY OF THE DAMN WEEK. Y'all are warriors on another level!
Almost two weeks post birth I can say with confidence that we are fine but emotionally, I'm not as well as I could be. The birth experience this time around was traumatic, and terrifying, and almost ended in both of us not being alive. First and foremost I give thanks to an L&D nurse who took my "birth plan" of no death seriously and made damn sure that both our son and I were making it out of that OR that afternoon. I also give thanks to an anesthesiologist and an OB who were equally committed to me becoming part of a damn scary statistic of maternal death in childbirth. Without this amazing team, and a whole heap of luck and the good Lord pulling some serious grace, I don't think I'd be hear writing this as my sweet baby son sleeps soundly at my side.
Part of my recovery is including some therapy to help me work through the trauma and resulting post-traumatic stress. I am seeing a professional and I am committed to working through this. One thing I knew would need to happen would be that I would need to get the entire experience out. To be unashamed that my birth was about as different as I could have ever hoped or imagine it would be. So, in whatever form this takes, my apologies. It's part of the process.
On Thursday October 24th I went to my normal weekly appointment after being in labor (non-productive/slowly productive) for over 48 hours complete with a trip to L&D earlier that week only to be let go to labor at home. My blood pressure was slowly rising and I had classic headache and swelling of my hands and feet. My provider felt that even though I was at 37 weeks I was moderately deteriorating and it was time to get things moving. The VIT and I went home, got the bags and headed off to the hospital for what we thought would be a routine induction (we had one with the last PKIT and it was flawless). We were triaged for several hours while we waited for an L&D room to open up. We joked, a dear work friend joined me to make the time pass, it was pretty benign. We were finally moved over to an L&D suite about 3:45pm. About 4pm the anesthesiologist showed up to get my epidural started and get pitocin started.
The epidural was pretty typical. I'd done this several times before but this time there were a few twinges of pain that I'd never had before but I thought nothing of it. As I laid back down I glanced at the clock and realized it was about 7 min after 4:00pm. Within 3 minutes I noticed that I was having difficulty hearing. I mentioned this to my L&D nurse and she asked if I was having fuzzy vision, initially I said no but on second thought, I answered yes. She immediately looked and noticed that my blood pressure was rapidly dropping and to boot the baby's heart rate was plummeting and not coming back up. She immediately put me on high flow oxygen. She had me turning in the bed to try and relieve any pressure that might have been on the baby. I was rapidly deteriorating. I instinctively knew this. All of a sudden they were breaking my water and then within minutes we were literally running down a hallway to an OR. The VIT and my work friend were left behind. I distinctly remember locking eyes with the VIT and doing my best to assure him that everything was fine and I'd be okay. To be brutally honest, I thought and was in fact, fading fast. My blood pressure was hovering around 55/22. When I was wheeled into the OR I calmly and collectively climbed over onto the table and just did as I was told (those who know me know that only when things are getting serious do I shut up and do as needed). I was not even fully draped and they began cutting. Everyone in the OR (probably about 10-12 people there) commented on how calm I seemed to be. I distinctly remember telling my L&D nurse that if there had to be one of us to go that it was to be me. Harrison must be saved at all costs. She assured me she understood. Before I knew it I heard him cry. He was quite grey but he was alive. They immediately rushed him to a warmer and the VIT came in. The VIT and PKIT 5.0 were taken to a neonatal suite next to the OR to be stabilized. I knew he was alive and that is all that mattered. I knew I'd done my job. I'd brought him to this side of the veil. I've never felt more peaceful. From the time I'd initially said I was having trouble hearing to him being born was just under 14 minutes. To say this was an emergency is an understatement. This was a life or death situation that fortunately and by shear grace, ended up with us following the "birth plan". He was alive and I was alive, that's all that matters.
It took about an hour to stitch me up. It is not a pretty scar but it one well earned. As I was taken to recovery I was able to talk about what happened and the reality of all that happened and could have happened came rushing in. I deeply respect the nurses and providers that came to help. They told me it took almost 6 rounds of epinephrine to keep my heart pumping. I was fading fast. I almost died. Amazingly I never lost consciousness. Luckily the PKIT, although in some respiratory distress, has a good bit of his mama in him and fought his way back and was out of NICU and in my arms in just under 24 hours.
As we navigate this new piece of life I am reminded daily about how damn lucky we are to both be here and to be alive. I'm grateful beyond belief but I am changed. The sounds of helicopters, the commercials of babies in hospitals, the thoughts of what could have been are heart stopping. The tears are always sort of on the surface. This level of vulnerability is not easy for me. I dislike it A LOT. But in order to practice what I preach and to ensure this situation does not hold power over me, I must feel all the things. I am committed to doing the work. If you see me getting "emotional" there is a reason. I am super grateful to be alive but I'm pissed that it had to be like this. But simultaneously I know that I cannot control the winds, only trim my sails. I'll be okay. Someday.
I'm sure there are things I'm forgetting and somethings that are far too raw to completely put out there but for now, this is a start. If you've read all this, thank you. I'm glad this is out there. Maybe it's the piece of the puzzle to help get to the next part. Life marches on around here. Now I must attend to the little dude...he has a way of getting his needs met :)
P.S. My fellow c-section mommas..hats off to y'all. This isnt for the weak of heart! Having done both sides, I'll choose a vaginal birth ANY DAY OF THE DAMN WEEK. Y'all are warriors on another level!
Saturday, November 2, 2019
He’s his mama and all that is implied
As I suspected the little dude has arrived and came in like the teeny rainbow after the storm. The 5th PKIT graced us earth side on Thursday October 24th in the afternoon and his entrance was one for a story for another day. But as he and I spent one of the only solo nights we will likely have I wanted to document how having him, for the past 57’ish hours has indelibly marked my life.
As I gaze on his face the first thing that comes to mind is, he looks a lot like me. The other PK’s heavily resemble the VIT. This little munchie, he’s me. He is like his dad in that he is calm and doesn't mind going with the flow. He makes his presence known when necessary but just quietly loves and let's his sweet special light shine. He is love.
Our trip together earth-side was rough. But one thing we will always have is that we chased the light and came through together. He’s the best most peaceful thing I’ve ever held. If God embodies a person, then I can say I’ve seen their face and let tears of sweet relief and thanksgiving rain over them.
My wish as our son and I navigate this new chapter of life, keep being you. Love deeply and roll with what comes. Cause at the end of the day, you’re alive and I’m alive, mission accomplished.
As I gaze on his face the first thing that comes to mind is, he looks a lot like me. The other PK’s heavily resemble the VIT. This little munchie, he’s me. He is like his dad in that he is calm and doesn't mind going with the flow. He makes his presence known when necessary but just quietly loves and let's his sweet special light shine. He is love.
Our trip together earth-side was rough. But one thing we will always have is that we chased the light and came through together. He’s the best most peaceful thing I’ve ever held. If God embodies a person, then I can say I’ve seen their face and let tears of sweet relief and thanksgiving rain over them.
My wish as our son and I navigate this new chapter of life, keep being you. Love deeply and roll with what comes. Cause at the end of the day, you’re alive and I’m alive, mission accomplished.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)