Hello my name is Stace and I have a tough baby.

Nina is over six months old now - an age that I have LITERALLY DREAMED ABOUT for about five and a half months. Six months couldn't, and didn't, come soon enough. I made it through alive (and Nina is alive too!) but it was probably the darkest time of my life, and by that I mean inside of me - my body and soul, was horribly, horribly dark, and it took five whole months of crying for help for me to finally get that help.

We took Nina to the ER, the pediatrician at a hospital (three times), a chiropractor (eight times), our family doctor a few times, and would have tried the witch doctor if they had been listed on the internet and accepted Visa. If you would have told me to shake chicken eggs around her head while singing "It's A Small World" backwards, I would have tried it. Starting solids at four months helped - she was hungry! Supplementing bottles of formula along with breastfeeding helped - I was surviving on adrenaline alone. But there was more to Nina - and there is still more to Nina. We may figure it out later on our own (I'll try giving her a Mensa test starting at about 18 months and we'll see how she performs), or it could be like what so many Moms in the Tough Baby Club say - something Just Wasn't Right, and We'll Never Know What It Was.

We checked and ruled out pyloric whatever and kidney/urinary whatever (what with the abdominal and kidney ULTRASOUNDS), and changing my diet, and soy formula, the cheapest formula, the most expensive formula, powdered formula, special bottles, special nipples, cup feeding, cereals, solid food (this one helped), ear infections, no it's not reflux, no really it's not reflux, teething, special sounds, songs, white noise, sleeping with me, not with me, in a cradle swing, in a swing swing, hot, cold, socks, no socks, herbs, greens, probiotics (I think those acutally helped - Bio-K), but please don't tell me any more because she's six months old now and she's survived the worst of it, whatever it was. What she needs is a lot of stimulation and swinging and her Mama. The other twenty-seven things she needs we never figured out, but there's still time I guess.

I've considered writing a book about my ordeal for those six months, and whatever is ahead as well. Some say to watch what I write, because someday Nina may read it. But I need to be honest about this - I'm not writing a book for Nina to read a story about her babyhood, instead I need to talk to other Moms out there who Thought They Had Their Shit Together but then Had Another Baby. I have a lot to get off my chest (and whoa, you should see my chest). If at any point any human would have just walked up to me and given me a hug and said "Babies can be tough" I'm sure I would have bawled, groceries in hand, wearing Nina in her front pack, in my stretched-out yoga pants and maternity coat.

I once complained to Sean about my day - how we dropped Ever off at her pre-school (it was a two hour class once a week - something we can't afford anymore) and Nina and I walked to the grocery store and then the dollar store and then it was 2:00 and I had forgotten to eat lunch, so I went to "Jason's House" (Take Sushi) and the entire restaurant, and yes it was busy, proceeded to watch me try to eat a lunch special bento box while holding Nina. One man came over and chuckled that he remembered how hard his now-grown son was, seeing us. Another woman sitting near me talked about having two kids, both Ever and Nina's ages, and how nice it was to go back to work early and her husband stayed home with them. Others in the restaurant looked and watched and offered me sympathetic grins. This was during the HOUR that I was STANDING UP AND EATING MY FOOD WITH MY HANDS.
SALAD. RICE. TERIYAKI.
WITH MY HANDS.
And every bite I took Nina reached out and grabbed it, and smooshed it in her fingers, and then tried to pull everything she could reach on the table off of the table and then she stuck her sushi-ricey hands in my hair and then she arched her back so I almost dropped her then she grabbed a menu and threw it on the floor and then and then and then SOMEBODY HOLD THIS BABY. SOMEBODY. COME OVER TO ME AND SAY "CAN I HOLD HER?" STOP STARING AT ME AND HELP ME.

The grocery store. The parking lot. The restaurant. Sean has to work during the day, people, and I have a baby and a toddler and I have two arms and two legs and two bags to carry at all times. I have grocery shopping and ballet lessons and that's about it and I CAN'T DO THIS BY MYSELF.

Sean says that people are probably afriad to come up to me and offer to help. Maybe I'd get offended. Maybe I don't speak English. Maybe I'll get angry. Maybe they are embarassed for me. I told him I want to make a t-shirt that reads "SOMEBODY HOLD MY BABY".

It takes a village to raise a baby. It takes a village to help me with Nina.

I finally went to the doctor and told her I wasn't coping well. She put me on Zoloft. I don't know how to put this nicely, so I won't. I am not the problem. SHE is. I have a tough baby. I am not abnormally weeping or frustrated or exhausted GIVEN MY CIRCUMSTANCES. I am struggling to cope not because I don't have coping mechanisms but because this is a really hard baby.

I am now on 25 mg of Seroquel a night and I can assure you that it's not enough. I am pissed off every single day. I am surviving on adrenaline and I have absolutely zero fuse. Sean has to go to work every day and I can see the concern in his eyes when he kisses me goodbye in the morning. I can tell when he looks at me that he's thinking Please Be Nice To My Children.

Since going on Seroquel I no longer start calling Sean at 4 pm and asking how soon until he gets home. Since calling my Public Health Nurse, since calling my therapist, since receiving a volunteer who comes to my home every few days to hold my baby, since discovering StrongStart schools and going on most mornings, since going to Meetup.com to find other Moms in my neighborhood, since meeting a neighbor who is American with her 5 month old baby who I Totally Dig, since Nina finally turned six months old, since these things have happened I no longer worry. And yes, I do think there was a reason to worry. I don't want to go into the details but let me re-state Dark and Difficult.

And that brings me back to why just thinking of hugging Cinda makes me start crying. It's because I had resources that I was.... afraid? to use. Embarassed? Too emotional? I mean it's obvious now why I haven't talked to Susan in six months - it's because I would have lost it. But I should have been willing to Go There. I should have talked it out. Sean's cousin Michael is the ONE PERSON who was brave enough to call me and literally say "Should I call CPS? Tell me the truth. Should I be concerned?" and he made this call when Nina was five-and-a-half months old, so I could then clearly say "No - not anymore." But leading up to that moment, as I was spiralling down, I should have reached out to my Comfort Creatures - even if just by phone - even if they didn't even know that they were as important to me as they are (I would guess that some have no idea just how much they comfort me). I should have called Cinda and said "Can you talk to me? It's Stace - Russ's daughter." and she would have totally listened to me. And Susan. And Susan's Mom Lois. And Dan & Maureen and Morrie & Diane in Seattle. I should have stepped over that barrier of.... what? Looking pathetic? Looking like I can't handle life? I should have just called them and said "I need help and I just need to hear your voice today." And then I probably would have let out a big sigh and said "I have a tough baby." And they would have listened. And listened and listened. And their voices would have come through the line like a hug from them. In my darkest times that would have meant the world to me.

I suppose getting all of this out must mean that it's getting better. And it is getting better. She is getting better. And I have to admit that I am getting better too. But it took a few months of feeling like I was screaming I NEED HELP to finally get that help. And there's a fear of Getting Help From Social Services crossing over the fine line of Social Services Taking Your Baby Away.

In the end I know I have a strong bond with This Baby (and her name was This Baby for about five months). It's like we are war buddies, what we've been through together. She looks at me and smiles and I know she's in there. She's happy, she just has this miserable phase to shake out yet. There are a few more seconds of happy each day - and few less seconds of misery (unless she's in the car, but that's another story). Overall, she is more than 50% Not Miserable now. And I've been waiting a LONG TIME to be able to say that.

I only wish that there was a way to figure it out - even in hindsight. I've seeked out the Parents of Tough Babies and the common theme is We'll Never Know What It Was. Nina will not say, at seventeen months, "I WAS LOW ON POTASSIUM MAMA, and I WANTED MY DRIVERS LICENSE. And my CAR SEAT was at a 17 degree ANGLE causing me to feel PUKEY the WHOLE TIME WE EVER DROVE ANYWHERE and I had a SERIOUS CRAVING FOR SUSHI and THAT HAIRCUT looked TERRIBLE on you and I wanted to DANCE DANCE DANCE with Ever as she DANCED CIRCLES AROUND ME."

Instead, Nina won't remember. And if she hears what I went through, if she hears how I felt, if maybe she reads the things I have written, I hope she will understand that I love my baby, but we had a real rough road at the start, but it Got Better From There.

Perhaps she will be my first novel. The title of which will be Somebody Hold This Baby.
(It's a working title.)


10-08-09
Ever's Concussion Scare
We have this silly set-up with Nina at the new house. I sleep on the futon in the living room because Nina LIVES in her big swing and I can't *CAN'T* sleep in another room with her in a swing. This goes back to my extreme paranoia about SIDS, especially in swings. So I sleep in the living room because that's where Nina sleeps. And as long as she needs the swing, that's where I am.
Lately Ever has gotten lonely going to bed in our big bed (we still do family bed, only now the family in there is Sean and Ever) so we JUST started a new thing the past week or so, where Ever sleeps with me in the futon starting around 9:30-10:00 (yes she stays up late) until Sean carries her to bed with him an hour or 2 later. It's also inevitable that as soon as Ever falls asleep, Nina wakes, then the three of us are crammed in the futon until Sean gets Ever.
Last night at 11:30 there was a loud THUD and I woke and looked at the side of the bed and Ever wasn't there. I wasn't sure if Sean has taken her yet or if she fell out of the bed, because there was no sound.
She fell out of the bed onto the hardwood floor.
I called out for Sean who came and picked her up, and she started crying, but it was more hiccupy than wailing or mad or hurty. You know. There's a difference. It was upset. She was shaking SO BAD.
At some point Sean thought she was going to be sick, so he took her into our bathroom, but she was shaking and wouldn't let go of Sean. I sat at the edge of the bed and Sean was squatting while holding her. He then said "She's peeing" and I didn't understand why he said that, but then realized his t-shirt then jeans were getting soaked. Ever hadn't said a word. (Ever has been totally potty trained for a long time now - and if she were to have an accident, she'd say something. This was more of a "losing bladder control" without her even being aware of it.)
We called Aunt Sharon (a nurse) who just happens to be visiting in town and staying at Debra's and asked her what to do. Sean changed his clothes while I held a clutching Ever, then we worked at gently getting her undressed and dressed again even though she did NOT want to let go. I kept asking her to tell me her name and she was so freaked out it took her a very long time to finally say it. I think she saw how scared Sean and I were and it made her panic a bit more, which would make her gasp and unable to speak because she was shaking so hard.
We checked her eyes with a flashlight, but her eyes are SO DARK it's hard to see if her pupils are uneven. Also, she blew her nose and blood came out (another symptom of concussion). We decided it was worth going to the ER, even with the flu risks.
Sean got her health card and I was instructing him to get a plastic bowl for her to keep in her lap, and of course Nina was starting to wake up, so we were working on the logistics of me being able to go to the ER as well to make sure she didn't fall asleep in the car on the way there, and that's when we decided one last time to see if she was okay enough to stay home.
"Ever, who is your favorite cousin?" "Geneva"
"Who are your other cousins?" "Jackson and Grady" (they are in town and were at our house the night before.)
"Who is Zayd's Daddy? "Michael"
"What's Daddy's name?" "Sean"
It was like rapid-fire Q&A and she was passing.
We were delighted.
Sean said "Would you like to do a puzzle? And Ever said "Sure!" and Sean and Ever did puzzles and painted all of the family members and all of the princesses until 2 a.m., having conversation all the while to make sure her synapses were firing properly, then finally snuggled into bed to watch a Classical Baby DVD, and at 2:30 she started to doze. Sean watched her sleep.
Nina woke to nurse again sometime after that (I forgot to check the time) and I woke Ever and said "What's Mama's name?" and she said "Stacy" and I was SO RELIEVED. She answered fast and easily.
Nina fed again at 6 am and I woke Ever again. This time I just said "Ever how are you feeling?" and she said "Good" without even opening her eyes.
At 9:30 she was still snoring, so Nina and I got into bed with them and she and Sean slowly woke up. Once Ever's eyes were open, she hugged Sean and said "I love you, Daddy." I think she said that three times in her first 20 minutes awake this morning.
It was terrifying. She seems okay now. I know that there are a lot of bonk stories in children's histories, but it wasn't fun for us parents to go through. I hope to get some sleep today.


08-22-09
NINA MARGERET
Margeret, Tori, and Mathew were in town for the birth (that's Sean's Mom, sister, and brother, by the way). I couldn't believe I had actually gone past the due date. Honestly, I couldn't believe I'd made it to June. The day I was due Tori went to my midwife appointment with me, where Janice scraped my membranes (again, and yeah it's as fun as it sounds) and that's when we discovered that my blood pressure was too high. We all went to the hospital so they could strap all sorts of crap on my belly and they monitored my blood pressure (still too high) and we were informed that the Burnaby hospital doesn't induce at night, otherwise they'd be inducing me now (I was measuring big, bp was high, time for baby to get out). With heavy heart (and body LOL) I went home being told that I'd be induced the next morning if I didn't happen to go into labor before then (yeah no pressure).
I could NOT, COULD NOT get comfortable that night, moreso than every night leading up to that niight. (I wasn't comfortable in my body from about Christmas on, getting progressively worse leading up to this night, but this night was much worse.) On top of being so uncomfortable, I was sad and depressed that I'd be birthing in the hospital (not my plan) and I also had to pee an unbearable oh, every 20 minutes or so, leading me to pee and spend 12 minutes just arranging myself in bed trying to get in a tolerable position and then... have to pee again. So that made me angry on top of all the other emotions I was going through.
After Sean and I watched both Caddyshack and Karate Kid on TV (it was late) we turned out the lights but my body just couldn't deal, and by about 2:30 I woke up Sean to tell him I was gonna try to sleep in the 2nd bedroom (closer to the bathroom, and wouldn't disturb Sean and Ever every time I huffed and puffed all angry and annoyed getting back into bed).
I cried.
I cried that the pregnancy was just. so. SUCKY.
I rolled back and forth feeling cramps and nausea and then getting up to go pee. Add seven pillows. Repeat.
I didn't sleep.
I called Susan around 5:00 am since it was 8:00 her time in Indiana. I asked her if they really HAD to induce, and why. We talked for a bit, but at times my cramps/pain/annoyance made me stop talking and I'd work through the pain. After this happened a few times, Susan said "You aren't getting induced this morning. You're in labor." I guess it came along so slowly as annoyance/frustration/cramping, that I hadn't noticed what it was. With Ever's birth, it was BOOM my water broke, then everything ramped up within a few hours. I had assumed my body would do the same thing this time.
Susan then suggested I get off the phone and call my midwife and, you know, have a baby.
Of course I then called my mother.
See I was so miserable by this point (hadn't slept on top of all of this) that I decided I wanted her here whether I was really in labor or not. And she lives 45 minutes away so I had to give her & Jeff time to wake up and get up here.
Then I called the midwife on call at that time, Kat (she was the 2nd midwife at Ever's birth!). By this time I was circling around the dining room table - exactly what I did in early labor with Ever. She stayed on the phone with me through 5 or 6 contractions and determined that it was, in fact, labor, and said she'd come over as soon as I called, knowing that we'd know when to call.
Then I called Margeret and Tori and Mathew, and cousin Debra, and cousin Katie, and sent out a text from my cell phone to friends and family in my contacts. It got chaotic in our house FAST.
Debra came over with Isabella in her arms, and when it was time for her to go back home, I got upset, and realized how badly I wanted her with me for the labor. Katie started with the Facebook/Twitter updates, some people were texting me back right away (especially Indiana people since it was about 9:00 their time by then), and I tried doing the exercise ball and standing up through the labor pains. Even with the crowd and it only being early labor, I was losing my sense of humor. Soon we went into the 2nd bedroom and closed the door, and very soon after that I said a resounding I WANT KAT.
At some point around then it was me, Debra (she returned to help me!), Sean, and my Mom in that 2nd bedroom.
Kat showed up pretty quick, and my labor pains were being... weird. I was warned about them coming on fast and strong, but these felt different as well, but I couldn't put a finger on it then (I can now! Hello, back labor!) I was also confused because I was fully alert and having normal conversations, but with Ever's birth I was in Labor Pain Subconcious LaLa Land once I was in active labor, so I was questioning "Why am I here talking to you guys?!?" Kat was checking me and I wasn't dialating which was weird to her as well, since she figured she'd just show up and I'd deliver pronto.
Hours went by, and I was grunting, groaning, and PUSHING the whole time. And still fully conscious and aware of the world around me. (RIP. OFF.) Sean put a bad Olivia Newton John song into my head, then a bad Def Lepard song. We were having regular conversations only I WAS IN UNBEARABLE PAIN every couple minutes. I tried every position I could to "change" the pain to no avail.
My water finally broke while I was laying in the tub and Sean was spraying the shower wand on me. He then had to lift me - I mean LIFT ME at 208 pounds dead weight, out of the tub because I had ZERO strength or physical ability by then. Oh and I was naked and slippery. And PUSHING.
We finally figured out why I was pushing involuntarily for HOURS: take your right hand and pat yourself on your left shoulder, like you're choking yourself. That was what the baby was doing, causing her head to NOT touch my cervix to encourage it to OPEN even thought the REST of my body was REALLY QUITE CERTAIN that there was a baby in there that sould be coming OUT ANY MINUTE NOW DID YOU NOT GET THE MEMO? Her adorable little elbow was going ge-dunk ge-dunk ge-dunk along my spine and tailbone on the way out.
At some point my pushing had finally shoved things where the sun kinda shines and my Mom opened the door so the parade of people could come into the room to watch me scream and push: Sean, Mom, Kat, back-up midwife, Jeff, Margeret, Tori, Katie, Debra. Yeah that's NINE PEOPLE. Sean had my hand, Mom and Debra each had a leg, and Kat was front and center yanking the baby out of me (baby's hips got stuck, too). I won't go into detail as to HOW Kat got her out of me, but I will repeat the words GET and YANK.
The baby came out fat and bruised and a bit traumatised. Nine pounds fourteen ounces. Nina Margeret. A room full of people to greet her.
I had two stitches, one inside, one outside. That impressed even me.
I was so, SO happy to get her outta my body. And I think she was happy to be out, too.


06-21-09
Due Date
You know that scene in Airplane! where Dr. Rumack is telling Elaine the symptoms of the food poisoning, and the captain is doing all of those symptoms (Here, at 8 minutes in)? That's what this pregnancy has been like for me.
It's time soon. I thought the due date would be today - the midwives are saying Tuesday. Ever was one day late. The point is, it's going to be a baby soon and not just Me Being Pregnant. I'm very excited to get to this next phase!
I can't begin to tell you how many tears I've cried in the last eight months. I now know what a "challenging pregnancy" is. I also know that it took us a full year to get pregnant and I am so happy that I get to have another baby - challenges or not. And yes, I would do it all again if I could (and I hope I can!).
Sean is picking up Margeret (his Mom) and Tori and Mathew as I type this. They are here from California for the birth. I think I'm gonna skip the major photo shoot this time (our photographer is healing from surgery and I decided if she can't do it, then forget it), but I do plan on having my cousins here and other family as well - it may be quite the crowd! I'm actually looking forward to the home birth this time since I know what's coming! The first time it was all just a giant question mark over my head (oh yeah and the GOD AWFUL PAIN) but this time I know what I can and can't control and I hope to face the pain a bit better this time instead of spending a whole day trying to escape it. I think my labor could have been faster if I would have faced the pain a bit more honestly.
Now after I've typed that out, it could also become HAHAHA what was I thinking gimme drugs NOW and we'll end up in a hospital. (But this hospital would be the same place Sean had his deviated septum surgery, so what do YOU think I'm going to choose?).
I haven't had a chance to re-watch She's Having A Baby, which I was hoping to do, not only for the cute factor, but also because I've seen the movie a bazillion times and can speak the whole thing out loud. I remember watching it right before I had Ever, and now that seems like SOOOOooo long ago, even though it's been just under three years. Any time that is Before I Became A Mama seems like forever ago.
Stay tuned. Baby coming soon.



06-06-09
Sean's Deviated Septum Surgery, Part Two of I Hope Only Two

We came home from the hospital Thursday the 21st. Sean was very weak. He could only sleep sitting up and he could only breathe through his mouth. He no longer had packing in his nose but he did still have the splints, which I think just hold the nose in place. I don’t think they are there for bleeding purposes.

Ever and I slept in the second bedroom, so we wouldn’t disturb Sean sleeping, which is a joke because he didn’t actually get any sleep. He was bitter, weak, pissed off, and still couldn’t breathe through his nose. He didn’t get out of bed unless to go to the bathroom, and he was passing a lot of blood (for days) from all of the blood that went into his stomach.

My mom returned Friday night, and Saturday Mom, Ever and I headed out to run some errands. As we were returning home from the grocery store my cell phone was ringing and it was Sean calling. Instead of answering the phone I just walked in the door. I found Sean in the kitchen in the rocking chair with a bloody towel over his face and he was shaking. He said he had just gotten the bleeding to slow down, and I spun around to usher Ever and Mom back outside to “go play”. While Mom and Ever played in the front yard, I cleaned up the bathroom. The toilet was full of blood, the bathroom sink was full of blood, and the bathtub was full of blood. Turns out Sean was attempting to take a tepid shower, and just the pressure of leaning over to turn on the water in the bath faucets set off the bleeding again.

We finally got Sean cleaned up well enough for him to get back in the bedroom with the door shut so Ever and Mom could come back inside. He was so weak and anemic that he was walking around like a 90 year old man for several days. It took all the energy you could imagine just to get up and go to the bathroom. He was constantly dabbing his nose with Kleenex. It went on for days.

Monday May 25th, Sean had his scheduled follow up at Dr. Samad’s office. His appointment. was scheduled for 3:45, but they called us earlier that day and asked us to come in at 3:00. We got to his office at 3:00 and it was packed full of people. The air conditioning wasn’t working well, and I could hardly breathe so I spent most of that time pacing in the hallway of the building. At 3:45, which was when we were originally scheduled to be there, Dr. Samad saw Sean and took out the splints. That was around the time I walked back into his office and saw him walking quickly out of the room and grabbing handfuls of gauze. I knew that was the room my husband was in. Dr. Samad made a second trip out of the office to grab some more gauze. It was then that he glanced at me and had a look of guilt on his face. Many minutes later Sean emerged with his nose packed again and Dr. Samad asked Sean to meet him at Burnaby Hospital on Wednesday at 11:00 in Minor Surgery. Apparently taking out the splints that days wasn't such a good idea.

By the time we got home, the blood was starting to drip out of the packing. Blood was coming out of his nose and dripping down his throat because the packing had soaked through. Mom and Jeff had just left our house when we decided we should go to the ER because neither of us had heard of bleeding through packing, and Dr. Samad never really told us anything about what to do next/what was happening with Sean.

The ER was very good to us and saw Sean right away. There were three other patients in the ER that night: one depressed alcoholic (newly immigrated here, no friends or family besides her husband), one suicidal patient brought in by her psychiatrist (who thought her husband was on his way to kill her, so security stayed with her as well), and a mystery virus. (That's always fun when you’re 36 weeks pregnant, and there’s a dude in there for a "mystery virus".)

They explained that they didn’t want to remove the packing because that could make it worse. So instead we were instructed to "take it easy" and just keep dabbing away the blood until we could see Dr. Samad again on Wednesday. They also ran more blood work and found that his anemia was even worse now, at 107. Normally they don’t want to do a transfusion unless you go below 100 because there are so many risks with receiving human blood. They would rather have you be weak and take iron pills for the next few months than take those risks.

We went home a bit frustrated. Not only was Sean packed, but he also had more blood going down his throat and dripping out of his nose. Not to mention, he would have to face this doctor at the hospital again on Wednesday.

Mom’s husband Jeff came up Wednesday to help me take my husband to the hospital. Jeff pushed me in a wheelchair and everyone thought I was the patient. We got up to the dreaded 4th floor, near the place I waited for 3.5 hours a week earlier. Sure enough, once Sean was admitted, we sat and waited for Dr. Samad for about 45 minutes.

At this time I was in the room with Sean and Dr. Samad explained what would happen next. He explained that he was going to remove the packing and one of two things would happen. 1) He would take the packing out and there would be no bleeding. Sean and I both smirked at this one; 2) His nose would bleed profusely and Sean would immediately be transferred to Royal Columbian Hospital in New Westminster where specialists would perform an emergency surgery called Internal Maxillary Artery Embolization. He explained that this surgery goes in through a major artery in his thigh and goes all the way up to the back of the nose, cutting off the bleeding from behind. He explained that he had never seen a situation like Sean’s, and he attributed it to a genetic anomaly of the arteries around Sean’s nose – that literally this happened because there were arteries there that weren’t supposed to be there.

It came time for Dr. Samad to remove the packing, and obviously I left the room. I waited just outside the curtain, and heard Sean and the doctor talking. I realized that I didn’t hear any panic or upset. I asked, “Is everything okay?” and the doctor said, “Please, come in.”

I walked in and Sean and I looked at each other in disbelief. We just thought he was going to bleed for the rest of his life. It was only a week but when your nose bleeds for a week….

He wasn’t bleeding!

Dr. Samad explained before we left that if Sean were to bleed from this point forward, we had to call 911 and instruct 911 to contact Dr. Samad so he could get in right away for the Maxillary Artery surgery. There was to be no delay. If he bled, we were to call 911.

Immediately after that, we were sent home. Dr Samad asked us to come see him at his office on Friday at 4:00. He also gave us his personal pager number. He truly seemed sympathetic for the first time, as he sent us on our way. Meanwhile, Sean and I were still convinced that he was going to bleed to death.

We came home with trepidation. It almost felt as though we should have just hung out at the hospital for a couple of days in case he bled. That’s how much we trusted his nose by then. We spent the next 48 hours very cautiously waiting for his nose to bleed. Unbelievably, it didn’t.

On Friday at 4:00 we returned to Dr. Samad’s office, waiting only 35 minutes this time. When Dr. Samad entered the room, he said, “It’s my favorite patient.” Sean didn’t even bother giving him a sarcastic smirk. He explained that he wanted to see us again Friday July 3 to possibly send a camera up his nose to figure out what happened. All the time, he has this look on his face like, "Please don’t be mad at me". He actually patted Sean on the shoulder. This doctor is usually NOT known for his bedside manner.

This doesn’t necessarily mean it’s over but every day that goes by and Sean doesn’t bleed, we have an immense sense of relief.

I still fear that someday ten years from now Sean is going to get hit in the face with a football and bleed to death in our back yard, so I do hope that they look into this situation to determine if it is actually over. We’re still waiting for him to have a nosebleed and next month we’ll still be waiting for him to have a nosebleed. I want to know it’s over.

Last Wednesday Sean met us (cousins) for sushi. Yesterday Sean went out and got a haircut. Things are normalizing. He's not sure about his energy levels since he's trying not to exert himself. He still gets light-headed at times, but nowhere near as often/as bad as when he first got home. He plans to work (gently) on Monday - he's missed 2.5 weeks of work, and since he works for himself he doesn't get sick leave or anything like that. It's been a tough month.

And I haven't even told you what I've been through during this same time! That will be another long entry....



05-30-09
Sean's Deviated Septum Surgery, Part One of Many

I had bitched at Sean long enough over the years to get deviated septum surgery because he needed nasal spray almost every night before bed and his snoring shook the house. This became more of a concern after we had Ever since we co-sleep and with another baby on the way it seemed like a good time to get it done before the baby arrived. Plus I'm paranoid about him having sleep apnea to get a good nights sleep.

Sean got a referral from our family doctor to see an ENT named Dr. Samad on Friday, March 6th, who basically looked at his face and scheduled surgery for him. We received VERY little information regarding pre-surgery instruction, the procedure itself, or post-op care. All we knew was that his surgery was scheduled for May 20th which is five weeks before this baby is due, so we were happy.

A couple of days before the scheduled surgery I called the ENT's office to ask them what time the surgery would occur, and was informed we would find out the day before the scheduled surgery. We later found out Sean was to report to Burnaby General Hospital admitting at 12:40 Wednesday, May 20th.

After a simple process for admitting we took a very long walk to the 4th floor day surgery wing. Sean checked in again. It was there we found out the actual surgery wouldn't take place until 2:40. I didn't want to leave but Sean insisted I would be bored if I waited, so with tears in my eyes (because I'm pregnant) I kissed Sean good-bye and he said "It's okay." The woman at the Day Surgery desk said they would call me on my cell to tell me when to pick up Sean. I returned home and waited for the call.

At 4:30 I received a call telling me that I could pick up Sean at 5:15. She instructed me to park in "the loop" and grab a wheelchair so I could wheel Sean out. I found this funny, but she didn't know I was 8 months pregnant. I immediately picked Ever up at her day care and drove her to cousin Debra's house and Debra and I joked about having to pick up Sean with my being so pregnant and uncomfortable. Debra said "Why don't you just ask them if he can stay overnight" har har, and I replied "Maybe I'll just give them a twenty and they can put him in a cab. har har.

At 5:15 I arrived as instructed and went up to the 4th floor to find Sean in the first recovery bed with an ice pack draped across his nose and eyes and folded up gauze taped across the bottom of his nose, bleeding heavily. He could talk, but barely. And he was a bit shaky. The anesthesia had long since worn off but they had him on a morphine drip to try and bring his blood pressure down. One of the nurses immediately said "You may want to go park your car." I re-parked my car and called Debra and said "It's not so funny anymore." I needed her to talk me down because I had to go back in that hospital and be strong for my husband even though just looking at him scared the shit out of me. I then waddled back to Sean in the recovery room.

The recovery room was full of patients besides just Sean, all of whom had had some form of day surgery, but the two nurses on duty were constantly at Sean's side, wiping his face. He was telling them repeatedly "It's pouring down my throat" and they were wiping the blood coming out of his mouth, nose, and eyes (his EYES. He had tears of blood coming down from his eyes.), even with the ice pack and the gauze, while gently telling him not to swallow it. He wasn't allowed to snort or clear his throat or cough, but they kept telling him to spit the blood into a cardboard tray. The blood was pulsing out of him, and he was still trying to say "But it's pouring down my throat." It only took about a minute of this for one of them to look at me and say "Why don't you go home and we'll call you when we know more." Both nurses had very gentle demeanors but their eyes were darting and I could tell something was wrong. They told me he would likely spend the night in the hospital and if Burnaby didn't have a bed, he would be transferred to another hospital. I called my work in the hallway of the hospital to tell them that I wasn't sure if I would be reporting to work the next day which happened to be the second-to-last day before a year of maternity leave. They were very understanding.

On my drive home I called my mom to tell her what was going on because I was still a little freaked out. I can't tell you how many times I said "He's bleeding out of his eyes" that evening. Of all the things for a spouse to experience I hope none of you have to experience that one, let alone at 8 months pregnant. Mom kept saying she would come up and the first couple of times she offered I actually thought I had a handle on things. But after driving another couple of blocks and talking to her I finally said "Yeah, I need you."

Debra was the next phone call and I asked her to tell the cousins what was going on. Shane immediately called me and told me he'd like to go to the hospital to be with Sean since I couldn't, and I told him where to find Sean in the hospital. I had to prepare Shane for what he was about to see. He went to the hospital and stayed for about an hour.

I came home and waited for the hospital to call. By the time my mom showed up (around 7:00 or 7:30) the hospital had called to tell me that the day surgery post-op recovery room closed at 9:00 p.m. so whatever happened, we would know the plan before then. She also informed me they were still waiting for the surgeon to come back to assess Sean's status. (Sean later informed me that the two nurses couldn't keep up with him and the rest of the patients so he was transferred to another recovery area better staffed to care for him, which must have occurred soon after Shane left. And Sean also remembers in his morphine haze that there was a doctor named Joan while he was in this area who was awesome.) No one ever contacted me to tell me that Sean had been transferred to another room. I grabbed my cell phone and we headed over to Debra's to see Ever and wait for the call informing me of where he would be, how he was doing, who he was with, what the plan was, etc.

Nine o'clock came and went with no call. Mom and I came home with Ever and I called the main line of the hospital. I was informed that the recovery room where I had last seen Sean was, in fact, closed - and no one was there. I then asked her where my husband was and she couldn't tell me. There was no updated record of his whereabouts since he had been in the recovery room that closed at 9:00 p.m. I asked her if he had been discharged, would this be reflected on their computer and she said "yes." I then asked if he had been transferred to another hospital, would she be able to tell, and she said "yes." And I responded "So it's safe to assume he's still in the building?" And she said "yes." And I said "In order to find my husband, do I just need to go to the hospital and wander the halls, looking for a man on a gurney, bleeding?" And she said "I'm sorry ma'am, but I think you should come to the hospital and try to find him because I can't tell you anything more." It was then about 9:30 and my mom stayed at the house with Ever and I hopped in my car to find my husband.

I went back to the parking lot at the hospital where I had parked at 6:00 p.m. When I pulled into the lot the parking attendant asked me how long I would be parking and I said "I don't know, the hospital lost my husband and I don't know how long it will take to find him." And she said "Oh, is your husband the man that was missing? Because security was all over the place, searching every car in this parking lot earlier." And I replied "I don't know." I assumed it wasn't him, but I honestly didn't know - but wasn't that a dumb thing for the parking lot attendant to say to me? Then I parked the car and walked up to the main entrance doors to a sign that said the doors were locked at that time and to use the Emergency Room entrance. (Couldn't the parking lot attendant have told me the doors to the hospital were locked at that entrance?) This required me, anemic and 8 months pregnant, to walk a block up the hill to the next entrance. It was at this time that I called to check in at Debra's and I was a little pissed off. I spent the entire walk panting and yelling at my cousin Dave, who kept saying "Will you please sit down, I can hear you panting!" I got to the ER and saw Reception and Triage and could tell by looking at them that they wouldn't be able to help me, so instead, I went to Security and asked the first security guard I saw, "Can you help me, please? I am trying to find my husband and no one can tell me where he is." I was obviously pissed and panting. They were immediately responsive. A security guard named Doug said "Let me get you a wheelchair and I'll roll you to the last place you saw your husband; we'll start from there." By the time we rolled all the way over to where I'd last seen Sean, it was now about 10:00. Sure enough, the recovery room where I had last seen Sean was now locked, closed, and dark.

The security guard and I were in a dark hallway and dumbfounded. It was exactly then that my cell phone rang. It was the surgeon, introducing himself to me (this is the first time I'd ever "met" him) and informing me that he had just finished a second surgery on Sean because the bleeding had never stopped, and he was now in post-op recovery. I said "Where can I go to wait for him?" and he told me to go to the 4th floor elevator bay, which was a dark, inactive area at this time of night. The security guard was unhappy with the situation and asked me to pass him my phone. He explained to the doctor that I was pregnant and in a wheelchair and needed to wait somewhere comfortable and I heard the security guard say "uh huh" about 12 times, and then he handed the phone back to me. I was informed to wait for Sean's one hour recovery in the same place the doctor had originally indicated - the dark 4th floor elevator bay. Doug the Security Guard was very uncomfortable leaving me there. He asked if there was anything he could get for me and I said "no." He told me he would be back to check on me.

I called my mom to let her know I'd be at the hospital for awhile and that I'd found Sean and then I called Debra to tell her the same. Shane immediately called back and informed that he and Katie were on their way to wait with me. I told them to go to the ER and ask for Security and they would tell them where to find me. Mere minutes later, they were there. An hour went by and the only activity we saw were a couple of janitors. No one called my cell. During this time, a few different security guards came up to check on us, including one visit from Doug in his regular clothes who wanted to check on us one more time before leaving work. Katie eventually went back down to Security to ask if Sean's computer record had been updated, and it had. He was scheduled to be in room 474, bed 3. We immediately set off to find room 474 and when we found it, we walked right in. The staff looked a bit startled but I told one of them my husband's recovery was taking a very long time and asked if she could look into it. She made a quick phone call and informed me that Sean was having bleeding complications and recovery was going to take a bit longer than expected. Sean later told me he remembers vomiting a lot of blood while coming out of the second surgery.

Sean's one hour recovery actually took 3 1/2 hours. At 1:15 a.m. a gurney approached and it was Sean. We were THRILLED to see him. He was SHOCKED to see us. While still in the gurney he whispered "Where's the monkey?" And I said "she's with grandma." We followed the gurney to room 474 and even though it was after 1:00 a.m., the staff let us wait inside the room while they transferred Sean to his bed, and then let us go inside to whisper with him. Sean looked much better this time because his nose had been packed, but you could tell he was exhausted; he looked like someone who had, in fact, had 2 surgeries that day. We talked for about 10 minutes, Sean joked that he asked for Michael Jackson's nose and that had caused all the problems. I was very scared and sad to leave him and he suddenly got very serious and put his hands on my belly. It was a really emotionally intense moment. I'm really, really glad Shane and Katie were there. At some point he said "You need to go home," but he wasn't letting go of my hand. As we were leaving, the nurses assured me they would call my cell when Sean woke up in the morning.

I got home at 1:45. My mom was laying on the couch, waiting for me to come home. As I was whispering to her the update, Ever got out of bed and crawled into my lap; by now, she absolutely knew that something strange was going on with Daddy. We all slept fitfully.

The next morning I had not received a phone call by 9:00 a.m. so I called the hospital, who transferred my call to the recovery area. The nurse there informed me that Sean had been discharged and was waiting for someone to come get him because he wanted to go home. Thanks for calling me, guys.

I drove straight to the hospital and found a very weak and very irate Sean, still in his hospital garb wondering where I'd been. Turns out he woke up that morning and asked for food, as he had been fasting since two nights earlier and they informed him breakfast was on the way. A whole hour had been passed and he had to get out of bed and walk over to the reception area and ask for breakfast, again. They informed him that breakfast was over. At some point the packing was removed from his nose, the the splints remained. He then asked if he could go home, and they said "yes." (No paperwork, documentation, consultation with a doctor on his post-op care, nothing. They didn't even look at us as we left. So strange.) Someone provided me with a wheelchair to roll Sean out, which was a joke - they did not provide me with a wheelchair for me! Sean used his heels to propel himself in the wheelchair, without my assistance, while I walked. Sean was shaky and tired and just wanted to go home.

We thought it was over. We were wrong.



05-14-09
Wishes
Amazon Wish List
Baggu Bags: 2 grocery kits (bright happy colors) and 2 sets of produce bags
4 oz. and 7 oz. stainless bottles
Baking Stuff
Subscription to Mothering
Etsy Favorites (to the right)
IKEA rugs (three for the living room)
This mascara, because Dooce says so
A playground paradise for my kids
Nursing tanks (long length)
Ballet lessons for Ever starting this fall
A new Dodge Grand Caravan, because this is my wish list


05-10-09
I went home to Indiana last October and stayed with my Dad and Kay as usual. I had a couple visits with my Grandma and also visited with aunts and uncles and cousins. The most major conversation topic from my end was that we were (meaning I was) going to go on Clomid (fertility drug) upon my return home - the prescription and all the instructions were in my file waiting for me. I think my Dad heard me tell my fertility woes about four times on that visit. After a year of trying it was pretty much encompassing me.
Let's just revisit this topic briefly - last year I got pregnant on my birthday (August 27) and found out that we lost the baby on our anniversary (October 15).
The last full day of my visit I went across the street to visit my childhood friend Susan (some of you may recall she flew out here to be my doula for Ever's birth and she left the day before the birth!). We talked a long time about my fertility issues, because I was still breastfeeding and wondering just how much it was affecting my chances, as well as the consequences of breastfeeding while on Clomid.
After all of this conversation she walked me to the car, and she hugged me goodbye. We aren't usually that huggy, but this time she held me and said "Take all my pregnancy hormones - take them - you can have them all. I'm done with them now." And I said "I'm taking them." It was cheesy and we laughed and we drove away.
As we drove down the lane, Ever was saying "Susan's house! Susan's house!" and suddenly I'm counting on my fingers. I had forgotten! I was supposed to get my period on that trip. I counted again. It was day 29 - late for me. I laughed out loud because I ALWAYS get my period while on a trip to visit my family (Indiana or Florida). Even when my period isn't due, if I'm visiting my family, I get my period. So the whole "not getting your period because you're traveling and your schedule's off" doesn't apply. The OPPOSITE applies.
So here I am going back to Dad & Kay's to pack and get ready to go home and it's all I can think about. How could I forget!? I could have gone to the CVS drug store there in Middlebury, but for some reason I was afraid it was too early and I'd jinx myself.
The next day at the South Bend airport I was informed that our flight from Chicago to Vancouver was cancelled and we'd have a five hour layover in Chicago. Well lemme tell ya, folks, there are NO pregnancy tests for sale in all of O'Hare airport, and I know this.
I had a cheap-o pack of ovulation strips and pregnancy strips that I got from Amazon months earlier sitting in our bathroom at home, so by the last flight I knew I'd just pee in a cup the second I walked in the door. But by then I knew. I just knew. To fly all day with a two-year-old and a stroller and carry-ons and coats and a laptop and NOT get your period? Impossible.
Did I mention? It was our anniversary that day. Twenty years together, 14 years married. And exactly one year since the miscarriage.
Sean picked us up from the airport and I didn't say anything, because obviously I need to be really sure about this. Once we got home he showed me how hard he worked re-painting the bathroom. Including removing all contents from the bathroom and putting them all on the second-bedroom floor. Which would include the pregnancy tests.
Since it was 11:30 pm as it was, I went to bed without testing. Again.
The next morning Sean went to work early, but as soon as he left I scrambled to find the tests, which I did. And it was positive. Then I found the better pregnancy test from the drug store as well (I had bought a 2-pack months earlier) and that was positive too. And then I called Sean.
And that's how we found ourselves pregnant again.