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valkryorWarning: This is a very long post. Hey, it's been a week.
It's hard to believe that last week at this time I was just starting to go into labour. It seems like somebody else's lifetime ago, that who I was then (it was only the day after my 30th birthday, afterall) and who I am now are carbon copies, one whole and one that's been put through the shredder and clumsily taped back together.
As most of you know by now, last Monday I gave birth to what I thought was a healthy baby girl at 10:32 am EST after 12 hours of labour. I had wanted a natural child birth, but after 3 hours of being only 8 cm dialated, the pain was too much to handle anymore. The epidural went in at about the "I've already been awake for 24 hours" mark and I managed to get a little much-needed sleep before becoming fully dialated and having to push.
It was an incredible experience even though I couldn't feel anything besides pressure from the armpits down. I was so happy and relieved that she had made it safely into the world and I knew at that moment that I would kill to protect her.
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fuzzpsych went home at about 1:30 to get a little sleep and to email the good news, they bundled Shannon up and moved the hospital bassinet that she was sleeping in beside my bed, so I could get some sleep too.
Then she started fussing.
It had only been about 10 minutes since Fuzzpsych had left, but I managed to calm her down and drifted back to sleep. About five minutes later, she fussed again, so I picked her up and made the attempt to breastfeed her. That wasn't what she wanted. So I started to unbundle her, thinking that she might be warm.
Shannon turned blue in my arms.
I have never been so terrified in my entire life.
I pushed the nurse call button, just as my nurse was returning from lunch. "My baby's blue." I don't remember if I sounded panicky or not when I said that or even how loudly I had said it. The nurse grabbed Shannon, unbundled her, flipped her over and started thumping her back all before hitting the code button. Other nurses streamed in, and it was very scary to see six nurses all working frantically around this tiny bassinet to make the baby in it's midst breath again.
When she was breathing again, she was taken to Neonatal Intensive Care (NICU) and I forced myself to get some sleep while they were checking her out more thoroughly. I called Fuzzpsych at 5 and asked him to come back to the hospital when we were told by the pediatrician that Shannon had a heart murmer and that he suspected that the left side of her heart hadn't formed correctly. We were also told that she would have to be transported to McMaster for further testing. They picked her up at 1:30 in the morning, while we did our best to get some needed sleep before following her to Hamilton.
We were initially told that our beautiful baby girl would only be in the hospital for another 3 days, but after some initial testing, it was determined that Shannon would be in the Mac NICU for 4 weeks. It was during the meeting with the neonatologist that we were told that she has an atrioventricular septal defect.
It was also during this meeting that I fell down the rabbit hole.
You can be reassured by leading physicians and scientists that a certain ailment is curable, but until you want to believe it, you only imagine the worst.
I couldn't stop thinking of tiny white coffins that only need one person to carry them and "You got what everyone gets. You got a lifetime."
I don't know where my headspace would be now if Fuzzpsych hadn't of been there to be my anchor. I think I would have cried more tears than pumped breast milk and it would have taken so much longer for the terror to subside long enough for me to think rationally about the whole thing.
It's a very scary thing to be told your baby, who looks healthy, has a heart defect, especially with no previous warning. It's a little like reaching into a box, expecting to find a sweetie and ending up finding a rattlesnake instead.
On Thursday, it was Fuzzpsych's turn to fall down the rabbit hole.
It had been a long day. We had already spoken to a speech pathologist from the Cleft Lip and Palate team, the social worker who had gotten us in to Ronald McDonald House (which is an incredible organization that is only tied to the fast food chain in name only), an ear, nose and throat specialist and a geneticist. Even my head was swimming with the number of people who were assessing my daughter's condition.
It was the cardiologist, at the end of the day, that threw us the biggest curveball. I actually absorbed the information, adapting what we had already been told about AVSD. But it was too much for my husband (who could be heard by the nurse in Shannon's room) and it was my turn to be his anchor.
Friday brought a visit with the in-laws, who had come to see their granddaughter. Fuzzpsych had improved significantly by the time they arrived, but neither of us expected them to be around for the entire day. We were both expecting a couple of hours, not the entire afternoon and then some. Needless to say, it was very stressful for both of us. Even though his parents had been very generous by bringing food and giving us a fresh influx of a little needed cash, when they took us out for dinner they got a show for free.
With both of us wound tighter than piano strings, we snapped at each other in front of them and I got out of the car because I was pissed and couldn't stand to be in his presence any longer. I calmed some while walking to the restaurant, but I wanted to go, be alone for a while. I remember standing on the sidewalk, my forehead against his, my hand clutching the pocket of his coat and his hand wrapped around the back of my neck while he calmed me down enough to join them for dinner.
At that moment I felt more connected to him than ever.
Despite the public nature of it (it's a busy street, after all), it felt incredibly private, just the two of us in a little bubble. The feeling carried on after his parents had left and we were back in our room. Despite the blow that we had just had to our life as a new family, I knew that we would always be there for each other regardless of the circumstances.
The past two days have been easier, although it was very hard to leave Hamilton without Shannon tonight. It will be good to bring her home. The hard part is the waiting.
It's hard to believe that last week at this time I was just starting to go into labour. It seems like somebody else's lifetime ago, that who I was then (it was only the day after my 30th birthday, afterall) and who I am now are carbon copies, one whole and one that's been put through the shredder and clumsily taped back together.
As most of you know by now, last Monday I gave birth to what I thought was a healthy baby girl at 10:32 am EST after 12 hours of labour. I had wanted a natural child birth, but after 3 hours of being only 8 cm dialated, the pain was too much to handle anymore. The epidural went in at about the "I've already been awake for 24 hours" mark and I managed to get a little much-needed sleep before becoming fully dialated and having to push.
It was an incredible experience even though I couldn't feel anything besides pressure from the armpits down. I was so happy and relieved that she had made it safely into the world and I knew at that moment that I would kill to protect her.
When
fuzzpsych went home at about 1:30 to get a little sleep and to email the good news, they bundled Shannon up and moved the hospital bassinet that she was sleeping in beside my bed, so I could get some sleep too. Then she started fussing.
It had only been about 10 minutes since Fuzzpsych had left, but I managed to calm her down and drifted back to sleep. About five minutes later, she fussed again, so I picked her up and made the attempt to breastfeed her. That wasn't what she wanted. So I started to unbundle her, thinking that she might be warm.
Shannon turned blue in my arms.
I have never been so terrified in my entire life.
I pushed the nurse call button, just as my nurse was returning from lunch. "My baby's blue." I don't remember if I sounded panicky or not when I said that or even how loudly I had said it. The nurse grabbed Shannon, unbundled her, flipped her over and started thumping her back all before hitting the code button. Other nurses streamed in, and it was very scary to see six nurses all working frantically around this tiny bassinet to make the baby in it's midst breath again.
When she was breathing again, she was taken to Neonatal Intensive Care (NICU) and I forced myself to get some sleep while they were checking her out more thoroughly. I called Fuzzpsych at 5 and asked him to come back to the hospital when we were told by the pediatrician that Shannon had a heart murmer and that he suspected that the left side of her heart hadn't formed correctly. We were also told that she would have to be transported to McMaster for further testing. They picked her up at 1:30 in the morning, while we did our best to get some needed sleep before following her to Hamilton.
We were initially told that our beautiful baby girl would only be in the hospital for another 3 days, but after some initial testing, it was determined that Shannon would be in the Mac NICU for 4 weeks. It was during the meeting with the neonatologist that we were told that she has an atrioventricular septal defect.
It was also during this meeting that I fell down the rabbit hole.
You can be reassured by leading physicians and scientists that a certain ailment is curable, but until you want to believe it, you only imagine the worst.
I couldn't stop thinking of tiny white coffins that only need one person to carry them and "You got what everyone gets. You got a lifetime."
I don't know where my headspace would be now if Fuzzpsych hadn't of been there to be my anchor. I think I would have cried more tears than pumped breast milk and it would have taken so much longer for the terror to subside long enough for me to think rationally about the whole thing.
It's a very scary thing to be told your baby, who looks healthy, has a heart defect, especially with no previous warning. It's a little like reaching into a box, expecting to find a sweetie and ending up finding a rattlesnake instead.
On Thursday, it was Fuzzpsych's turn to fall down the rabbit hole.
It had been a long day. We had already spoken to a speech pathologist from the Cleft Lip and Palate team, the social worker who had gotten us in to Ronald McDonald House (which is an incredible organization that is only tied to the fast food chain in name only), an ear, nose and throat specialist and a geneticist. Even my head was swimming with the number of people who were assessing my daughter's condition.
It was the cardiologist, at the end of the day, that threw us the biggest curveball. I actually absorbed the information, adapting what we had already been told about AVSD. But it was too much for my husband (who could be heard by the nurse in Shannon's room) and it was my turn to be his anchor.
Friday brought a visit with the in-laws, who had come to see their granddaughter. Fuzzpsych had improved significantly by the time they arrived, but neither of us expected them to be around for the entire day. We were both expecting a couple of hours, not the entire afternoon and then some. Needless to say, it was very stressful for both of us. Even though his parents had been very generous by bringing food and giving us a fresh influx of a little needed cash, when they took us out for dinner they got a show for free.
With both of us wound tighter than piano strings, we snapped at each other in front of them and I got out of the car because I was pissed and couldn't stand to be in his presence any longer. I calmed some while walking to the restaurant, but I wanted to go, be alone for a while. I remember standing on the sidewalk, my forehead against his, my hand clutching the pocket of his coat and his hand wrapped around the back of my neck while he calmed me down enough to join them for dinner.
At that moment I felt more connected to him than ever.
Despite the public nature of it (it's a busy street, after all), it felt incredibly private, just the two of us in a little bubble. The feeling carried on after his parents had left and we were back in our room. Despite the blow that we had just had to our life as a new family, I knew that we would always be there for each other regardless of the circumstances.
The past two days have been easier, although it was very hard to leave Hamilton without Shannon tonight. It will be good to bring her home. The hard part is the waiting.
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