Baby Aftermath, Part Two

Thanks for reading so far...these posts probably venture into the 'over-sharing' category and I normally cringe when I see others do this.  I'm also not doing this to glorify how bad I had it...I also don't want to freak people out, especially those that may be pregnant. You'll be fine! I don't really have a good explanation for these posts other than I just felt the need to write out and share the story. 

Part Two

Looking back, one of the saddest things was that I didn't hold Russell much during those first few days—Brandon changed every single one of his meconium poops. Not because I didn’t want to, but simply because I was so out of it and so unable to, that they just came and went. The only times I really held him were when we were trying to breastfeed, which was a whole other ordeal that could likely be another three-part blog. Even trying to breastfeed (you just sit there and hold your baby!) was terribly uncomfortable. As I worked with the lactation specialist, I remember pain just radiating down my legs and throughout my pelvis.  Just as Russell would be making progress with eating, I would have to shift positions. I wanted so badly to focus on him, but sometimes couldn't get past the throbbing.    

Luckily, Russell was very easy going those first few days.  He slept a lot and never cried. He had quite the cone head, a big bruise on his noggin, and wasn't too interested in eating or socializing--the nurses said he was recovering from the delivery as well. In fact, when the nurses described what Russell was going through, they would preface their comments with, "Babies that have traumatic births..." What?! That actually was a fairly traumatic thing to hear and they kept saying it over and over. It seemed like his his birth was fairly ordinary... there was no c-section and he didn't have to go to the ICU, etc.  He just got a little stuck.  

During our stay in the hospital, Brandon, my parents, my doctor, and the nurses took great care of me. I was impressed by the quality of care we received. I have a whole new level of respect for nurses and medical assistants. I would never want their jobs! Everyone believed me and did whatever necessary to help; no one told me to suck it up and most importantly, no one made me feel like a burden. That would have made those first few days unmanageable. Furthermore, everyone was really proactive about trying to figure out what was causing me the pain as it had become obvious that I was having some out of the ordinary experiences.   

Initially, the medical staff thought either the epidural was to blame or that my tail bone had broken during delivery. After some check-ups, it was evident none of that had happened. I was nonetheless offered x-rays and the doctors and nurses suggested bumping up my meds to Oxycontin, but I passed knowing neither would get me what I wanted—long term relief and mobility! Once we understood that nothing was grossly wrong, the tincture of time became the prescription. That actually became our inside joke as each specialist that saw either Russell or me said, "It's just going to be the tincture of time." Who knew that such a phrase was so rampant.  

Both my doctor and the physical therapist who came to consult on my case said that the ligaments in my sacroiliac joint had loosened and weakened, making it much harder for that crucial joint to support me (see the sections on signs and symptoms and pregnancy in the link). 

Those ligaments naturally stretch and loosen during pregnancy to help the body adjust to the new weight from the baby. For some reason, those ligaments went totally bonkers in me, possibly because the pushing stage of delivery lasted about 2 1/2 hrs. That made sense as all my pain seemed to be radiating out from the sacroiliac area. I was told that those ligaments just needed time to heal, just as an athlete might take some time off after a bad muscle tear. My doctor suggested I stay an additional day in the hospital--this suggestion was a huge relief as the thought of going home was inducing panic. I still couldn't walk to the bathroom alone, and that was just a few steps away. How was I going to move through our much larger house?  

A few hours later, we also learned that Russell needed an extra day too—the bruising on his head had caused his bilirubin to rise and he needed some bili light treatment. 

That extra day made all the difference.  I began to force myself to get out of bed more frequently and to do things on my own, even though it was often slow and painful. I was starting to understand what hurt the most (shifting weight) and how important it was to keep on top of the pain medication. That helped me know what to expect and how to problem solve. Furthermore, the pain was decreasing. Although it was in small increments, it was enough to start doing more and for longer stretches. That last day was actually the most exciting.  The skies were clearing and we knew it was only going to get better.  

We had checked in the hospital around 8:00pm on a Wednesday and didn't leave until about 4:30 pm on a Monday. When the time finally came to leave, we were so ready. We couldn't wait to be home with our baby.  Putting Russell in his first outfit was marvelous. This was our son! I don't know if I had ever felt so fortunate. 

Nonetheless, that first week home was hard.  Part of it was definitely learning how to parent a new baby who didn't like to eat and liked to scream from 2-4 in the morning. Yet Brandon and I were prepared for that part. We knew babies weren't easy and we still chose to be parents.  We very much wanted Russell.  We did a great job figuring out Russell's needs and never let ourselves get overwhelmed by the unpredictability of the newborn lifestyle. We laughed a lot and reveled in the wonder of it all. Most of the difficulty was my stupid pain as I continued to need help getting in and out of bed, standing up from the sofa, and getting in the car. Brandon handled everything like a champ.  He never showed any frustration, concern, or exhaustion. If he ever was any of those things, he never showed it and deserves the big gold medal for Best Husband Ever.

Basic things like sitting up in the morning, putting on my pants, going up a stair, and walking took a lot of effort and a lot of time. Laying in bed was one of the most uncomfortable things, especially since I no longer had the hospital bed to raise up and down and an endless supply of pillows to position around me. I tried sleeping in our bed, in the guest bed, the sofa, and even the floor. Often when I finally got positioned, I would then hear and feel my lower back and pelvis shifting around--it was like the sensation you get when you turn to crack your back on a chair, except x100, in a different area, and without me trying to do that. 

I remember trying to run errands and feeling so defeated; getting in the car was painful, the vibrations from the car aggravated my back and hips, and walking from my car to the store was more than I could bear. I was exhausted before I began. On several occasions, I actually used the motorized carts and didn't feel one bit guilty. It was pretty comical, actually. I also considered using handicap parking spaces but ultimately didn't because I didn't want to pay fines if I was caught.  In hindsight, it seems silly that I even ran errands during that time as Brandon would have gladly done them, but I remember wanting to get things done, wanting to work back my independence, and wanting to prepare myself for when Brandon went back to work. It was just going to be a matter of time before I’d have to do it all on my own anyway.  

Part Three to contain: The tincture of time