Life Goes On

That’s what my husband said to me last night.

“Life goes on.”

I had mentioned, sadly, that Caroline was going back to school after a three day weekend, and he was going back to work, and I would be home alone with Avery and Lila for the first time since having the baby and the whole pneumonia debacle. 

My husband is wiser than I tend to give him credit for at times, and his quiet retort brought me up short. Life does go on, and I go with it, no matter that I now have a new baby and lungs that function less than perfectly for the time being, and a very uncertain sense of what our family dynamic is now that all the unwelcome drama is behind us. Life goes on, and I just have to dive in and swim, because sinking is not an option.

My first trip out into the world with the kids and without backup from another adult was to see my OB for a post-op visit. Fortunately, my mom took Avery off my hands so I only had to take Lila with me (after messing around with the stroller than hasn’t been used in a year) into the office.

My lungs sound good, really clear, and the doctor thinks I am recovering nicely. He mentioned that labs taken when I was admitted into the hospital showed that I was “sicker than you looked or felt, sicker than any of us realized.” It just makes me feel even more blessed that things turned out as good as they did and that I didn’t spend more time in the hospital than I did.

 The infectious disease doctor does want some follow up X rays at my 6 week appointment, but after that I should be completely done with doctors and labs and X rays. Life going on, and whatnot.

Picking up Caroline from school for the first time with the baby was a whole separate ordeal. It takes FOREVER to buckle and unbuckle three kids in and out of a car. And this is something I will do five days a week until the end of time. So that’s something to look forward to.

But when I look at this:

And this:

I know that it really is something to look forward to, raising my girls and living our new life as a family of five. I feel like I came close to the edge of something and was pulled back, now it’s time to accept it, move on and make the most of what’s left.

So thanks, honey, for reminding me. Life goes on, and we are lucky indeed.

Zombies, I got Zombies for ya!

Hey, I know I have lots of readers that love Zombies and /or comics. Just for you (not really, it’s for everyone, but I’m trying to make you all feel warm and special inside) I bring this offer of a free Zombie comic. Go to ComicWorks to download Undead End for FREE all weekend. Do it because you love Zombies and free stuff. And because I said to. Don’t make me play the “I’ve been sick, please humor me” card. I can shed some tears if necessary.

In other zombie news, go check out the Zombie News Network, a funny site brought to you by two of my very favorite people in South Blogoslovakia, Captain Dumbass and Middle Aged Woman. It’s definitely worth a look see, especially if you are a fan of Zombie humor, and really? Who isn’t?

Happy Halloween, be safe, look out for zombies and don’t forget to send me your Almond Joys.

Nothing’s gonna change my world

(Parts one and two of Baby Half Caff’s birth story can be found here and here…)

So, then things got scary fast. The anesthesiologist who would be handling my C section wanted to put me under a general instead of a spinal. They were planning to put me down and take the baby out really fast to minimize the amount of anaesthesia she would be exposed to. Then the plan was to INTUBATE ME and PUT ME ON A VENTILATOR to treat the pneumonia. Shortly after that discussion with my OB and the anesthesiologist, I kissed my husband and was wheeled away into surgery not knowing when I would be conscious again, knowing that I would be on a ventilator in ICU for at least a day or two and not knowing when I would see my baby. The one thing I requested of my doctor was that I not wake up with a tube down my throat. He promised they would keep me sedated until the tube was out.

The next thing I remember is waking up and feeling paralyzed and unable to breathe. They had let me wake up with the tube down my throat. That was Wednesday. They sedated me back down and I have no memory of anything else until Friday. I only know what was told to me later. I’ve spent a lot of time since that Friday trying to put together the days that I missed.

From Mr. Caffeinated’s Facebook page:

October 14 10:24 pm

 Baby Maselli (TBA) was born at 4:40pm weighing 7lbs 9oz, 20″ long. Jen was immediately admitted into ICU and put on a ventilator. She has pneumonia so we are pretty concerned. Please keep us in your prayers the next few days…

October 15 9:37 am

Baby is doing fine and eating well. Jen responded well to antibiotics but her white blood cell count is still high. The goal for the day is getting her to breathe on her own. Baby steps…

October 15 9:55 pm

Baby was transferred out of NICU quarantine (since it will take forever …for flu test results, CDC automatically assumes it’s H1N1 which I agree is the safest approach) and to a regular recovery room where my sister-in-law, mom and sister have been with the baby since I left her yesterday. I have yet to hold Baby Maselli (sorry for the name suspense but mom has veto power on this one) but I should be cleared tomorrow.

Jen kicked some a$$ today. Her breathing tube was removed at 1pm but the respiratory Dr noticed a hole in her lung and put a tube in to aid her breathing. She needed to stay oxygenated in order for Dr to keep her off ventilator. The problem today is her left lung isn’t expanding so she is having trouble breathing. They put a bigger tube in and from that moment she’s been at 98-100% oxygenated. They cut her back to 40% oxygen in her mask and when I last checked it was at 30%.

I will never be able to thank all of you individually for all you have done for me and my family, but please know that we appreciate and love you for your support. It has been exhausting to say the least. I’m looking forward to having all my family in one place.

Love, DM

Apparently, I spent a pretty quiet night in the ICU on the ventilator after the baby was born. Meanwhile, the baby was being quarantined from both me and Danny due to fears that we would expose her to the H1N1 that I supposedly had. As bad as it was that I couldn’t hold my new little one, I can’t imagine how hard it must have been on my husband. I was knocked out on drugs and had no clue what was going on, but Danny was well aware that his baby was being kept from him. Luckily my sister-in-law was able to come and care for the baby and we didn’t have to leave her in the nursery with strangers. My mother-in-law and my husband’s sister were also able to come and help care for Lila until Danny and I were able to.

The vent tube was removed on Thursday, but after it was removed the doctor realized that my lung had collapsed or been punctured or something. A chest tube was inserted into my back (poor unsuspecting Mr. C watched the Dr. cut open my back and shove the tube in), they quickly realized it was too small, pulled it out and inserted a bigger tube. My husband spent a looong  day on Thursday sitting with me, feeding me ice chips and forcing me to keep the oxygen mask on my face. He says I was awake and talking on Thursday, but I don’t remember anything of that day.

October 16 9:19 am

Jen has mask off and has the cool nasal thingys. She is talking and coherent (and making some pretty funny jokes) but still groggy from the pain meds. Man, the power of prayer… Always amazes me…

Baby is great and she weighs the same. Hopefully, we can see and meet her together Also gonna push the name issue. Not my fault if our baby ends up named Rose Sparkles (the girls request) because of the drugs!

Love, DM

The first real coherent thought that I remember having is, “Why am I laying on a bed full of cats?”  I woke up and had these crazy pants on that kneaded my legs (to prevent clots?) like cats. I had no idea what had been going on, what day it was or why I was wearing cat pants.  That was Friday and that was the day that I met Lila for the first time. I was still really out of it, but at that point my own memory of events kicks in. Lila was being discharged from the hospital that day and my husband fought the doctor and nurses to make sure that I met her and held her before she went home.

It’s so strange to look at this picture and have almost no memory of it happening. I have no clue who gowned and gloved me, I don’t remember being wheeled to see the baby, I don’t remember anyone handing the baby to me. I just have a faint memory of holding her in my arms and thinking, “This is my baby.”

I know I was still really quite sedated because I wasn’t distressed at all that she was going home without me. It just didn’t even register. My husband says that every time I was awake enough to speak over those few days the first thing I would ask is, “Where is the baby?” Mercifully, I don’t remember worrying about her.

October 16 6:52 pm

Baby was discharged today and Mom walked today so we hope to have her home soon too...BTW, her name is Lila Genevieve Maselli.

Saturday morning the chest tube came out of my back (they kept calling it a chest tube even though it wasn’t in my chest). That was a horrifying if brief experience. I really started to wake up and have an awareness of my surroundings and situation Saturday morning. Once again my sweet and wonderful husband worked some magic with the medical staff, getting them to move me out of the ICU and into the Mother/Baby ward where they allowed Lila to come back to the hospital to stay with me, even though she had already been discharged.

Danny brought the baby to me in the Mother/Baby ward and it was if I had never been separated from her. After having my meds changed and dumping out several ounces of breast milk I was able to start nursing Lila on Sunday and she never even hesitated.

I continued to improve over the weekend and Monday morning  my OB came in to see me. He looked at me and said, “I can’t believe this but we’re going to let you go home today.” He said that after seeing me on Thursday he would never have imagined that they would be discharging me on Monday, a sentiment that was echoed by the wonderful internist who treated me in the ICU, but these doctors were not counting on my super recovery powers. Or my sheer stubborness and determination not to stay in that hospital a second longer than necessary.

October 19 4:19 pm

Just got home with Jen and Baby Lila. Finally have the girls in one place… Excuse while I step into the other room and collapse for a few days.

I made it home and sobbed when I saw my other girls walk trough the front door. I didn’ t realize until that moment that I had been tightly compartmentalizing my worry for Caroline and Avery every day that I was in the hospital. I just had to have faith in my family that my kids would all be cared for until I made it home and they were. I will never be able to really thank my mom and dad, my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and my other sister-in-law in particular for taking care of my girls when I wasn’t able to.

I’m also so thankful for the wonderful care I received from the doctors and nurses at the hospital where I was treated.

We’ll probably never know why I developed pneumonia. The flu swabs were negative and I was tested and treated for just about anything and everything, including viral, bacterial and fungal illnesses. There are just no answers. I’ve been home from the hospital for a week and while I have felt better than I did at any point during the last two weeks of my pregnancy, I’m definitely not fully back to myself. I have to really watch how much I exert myself and make sure I’m resting enough or I do get breathless and tired. But again, I just feel so thankful and relieved to be past the illness and have Lila safely home with us. She wasn’t completely unaffected by the anaesthesia and had a rough first few minutes (1 min APGAR of 5, but 5 min APGAR was 9), so we are more than happy to have her home and have nothing more to deal with than a little jaundice and a blocked tear duct.

Now we are all just working on getting back to normal, whatever that is.

Thanks so much to all of you who emailed and messaged and followed Facebook updates and left concerned or encouraging comments. You’ll never know what it meant to wake up and read those words of care and congratulations and love.

 

xo

-Jen

Then some more stuff happened

(Baby Half Caff birth story continued from here…)

The Sunday evening before B.H.C. was born we went in to the OB unit at the hospital so I could have the fever, contractions, lethargy, etc. checked out. They monitored the baby and my contractions, determined that I was dilated to a 1, and checked my vitals. The on call doctor never came in to look at me. The nurse was on the phone to him, but I was never seen by a doctor that night. My own doctor was unavailable and apparently no one from his office was taking call. So some strange doctor was giving orders related to my condition without seeing me. The nurse offered to admit me overnight, but I decided to just go home and try to rest. She gave me a dose of Tamiflu and advised me that the doctor had called in a full prescription for Tamiflu to my pharmacy so that I could take the full dose. Which turned out to be useless because I never actually had the flu.

The next couple of days are really fuzzy in my memory now. I know I couldn’t walk across a room without sitting down at least once. I could barely get my own clothes on. I know my mom and husband called my OB’s office more than once asking for advice but I was stubbornly waiting to see my doctor and so ill that I didn’t want to leave the house to go anywhere, let alone the ER or back to the OB ward. The thing is, I didn’t realize how sick I was. Looking back now I see it. But I was so out of it, and I had hardly eaten anything for days, and I convinced myself that I was tired because of the baby and couldn’t breathe because the baby was pressing on my diaphragm. I knew I was sick, but I didn’t realize that I was more sick than I had ever been in my life and that I was endangering myself and the baby.

Finally, on Wednesday I was scheduled to see my OB. I wanted to take a shower but I couldn’t stand up to do it, so Danny put a lawn chair in the shower so that I could sit under the water. He helped me get dressed and we dropped the kids off to my parents then headed in, no preparation, no overnight bag, no baby bag, no nothing. 

We got to the office and my OB got called away for an emergency C section before I could see him. Another doctor came in, looked at me, and said, “Go to the hospital. Now.”  I had lost seven pounds in the week that had passed since my last appointment, I could barely stand up, couldn’t breathe, was a total mess.

They wheeled me in a chair across to road to the hospital. I was in a delivery room when my OB finally came in. I was hugely relieved to see him and felt like finally someone would figure out what to do with me. My doctor said they were going to go ahead and take the baby by C section that afternoon, but that the anesthesiologist wanted to run some tests before doing the surgery. So I had chest Xrays, blood gases, other labs, nasal swabs, and a torturous experience where three different nurses attempted to get an IV in my arm. 

My doctor and the anesthesiologist finally came back in and said, “Jennifer, you have pneumonia. We need to get the baby out.” They then told me that they wanted to do my C section under a general instead of a spinal.

Havin’ a babeh: Ur doin’ it wrong (Part 1 of possible multiple segments)

I’ve been trying to post Baby Half Caff’s birth story for days now, but between the baby chaos, pain pills and WordPress eating everything I try to save, it’s been a slow process. I’m going to have to publish it in parts. There may be two parts, there may be 57, it’s too early to tell at this juncture.

First of all, let me just say this:

Lila Genevieve was born via C section on Wednesday the 14th. She is beautiful, just a wonderful baby so far and we are all in love with her.

So, by the time I was 36 weeks pregnant, I had a plan. Not a birth plan, because I knew I would be having a repeat C section, and I knew from previous experience how the procedure and hospital stay would likely go.

What I had was a family plan. Some scheduling and organization, firm plans for who would be caring for my children and when. I had specifically scheduled the arrival of our new baby on a Friday, so that Caroline would only miss one day of school and the people who would be our support would be able to easily take days off from work if necessary. I had allotted myself a certain amount of time to set up the changing table, catch up on laundry and clean the bathroom.

Really. I had a plan.

We had gone to Southern California for a wedding the first weekend of October and when we returned home I was feeling like maybe I was coming down with a cold. I saw my OB for our regular appointment and mentioned that I had a little cough and chest pain. He prescribed  a Z pack as a preventative measure and scheduled an extra appointment for me before C section day. He also reminded me that he would not be available at all during the upcoming weekend because his son was getting married. This was on Tuesday.

Wednesday I felt better, but Thursday I was starting to feel really run down. By Friday night I was running a little fever. I continued to run a low grade fever over the weekend and I was completely lethargic. I called the on-call doctor on Saturday morning and was advised to go to urgent care (?!) for Tamiflu. I disregarded this advice and told my husband that if I wasn’t feeling better we would just go to OB triage at the hospital.

Sunday I was having contractions from the moment I woke up. They were irregular but I had them all day long. All I could do on Sunday was lay in bed and sleep around the contractions, taking Tylenol at regular intervals.  Finally Sunday evening my mom and husband convinced me to go to the hospital to be checked out.

Stand back while I freak the f%$# out.

So, I’m having a baby in exactly 27 days. An actual baby. A baby that requires diapers and clothes and a bed and a car seat and an emotionally stable mother. Also? I’ve known for oh, about 7 1/2 months now that said baby is on it’s way.

Here is what I’ve done so far to get ready for the imminent arrival of this baby:

I ordered a pair of adorable handmade pants from an Etsy seller.

I may have also looked at cribs on the Ikea website.

That is the sum total of my preparatory efforts thus far. Cute pants? Check. Wasting valuable time on the Ikea website? Check. Purchasing a crib, car seat, any sort of bassinet, diapers, clothes, Aden & Anais muslin swaddling blankets that I know I must have because Ohdeedoh says so? Uh, not so much.

Every morning I wake up to a little refrain running through my head that kind of sounds like, “Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit.” Because I know that at the very, very least I must have a bassinet of some sort so that we are not forced to lay the baby on the floor, and some diapers and possibly a few onesies so that she doesn’t die of exposure. And I don’t have these things. And I have a strange sort of lethargy about purchasing them. I think this goes back to the emotionally stable mother piece of this sad puzzle, as mentioned above.

I believe I may be in baby denial.

Like, I know in a real way that there is a baby and she will be joining us shortly. And I know this because she has apparently started a soccer league in my abdomen. Also, I’ve seen the ultrasounds and heard the heartbeat.

But there is a part of my brain that just says, “No way. Uh uh. Cannot have a screaming babeh come live at our house. Not gonna do it.” (Strangely, this part of my brain sounds like Dana Carvey doing his George H.W. Bush impression.) Because the last baby that came to live at our house screamed and cried nonstop for 4 months straight. For weeks and weeks and weeks after Avery was born I slept for 20 minute intervals totaling 1-3 hours per night.  And I lost my mind. And I am batshit terrified that this baby is going to be a screamer like her older sister. And your mama cannot take that again.  

Not to mention that this will bring our total number of offspring up to 3. And I can barely keep up with the two we have now. And I am so afraid that I will fuck all of these kids up just by being completely overwhelmed and tired.

Which is why I haven’t picked up a package of Gerber onesies on one of my many weekly trips to Target.

It’s not that I’m not excited about the new baby. Really, I am. I can’t wait to see her face and snuggle her little body and get that hit of overwhelming and unbelievable love that accompanies every new baby. But I’m also scared and nervous and unprepared.

So, we’ll make an Ikea stop on a trip we have planned to the LA area in a couple of weeks, in order to purchase a crib. And I’ll pick up some diapers, either cloth or disposable or a combination of both and I’ll dig out baby blankets from the dark recesses of our rubber tote collection out in the garage and then we should have some sort of baby preparedness happening before C day.

We’ll be cutting it close, but we’ll get it done.

And I know I won’t stop freaking out, because there is no way to not freak out about having a baby, but hopefully doing some basic nursery organization will help me deal with my fears about sleepless nights, colic, crib death, and sibling rivalry.

And I know that all of the anxiety and frantic Ikea trips are worth it in the end. She is worth it.

And I can’t wait to meet her.

Caroline meets baby Avery for the first time.

Most adorable Kyoto pants are from babymomo on Etsy.

Because it’s funny, dammit.

I was browsing through the Someecards website, trying to find something rude and hilarious romantic to send the mister, since it’s his birthday tomorrow, and I came across a couple of cards (as I always do) that made me pee my pants (not that it takes that much to make me pee my pants these days, what with this baby sitting on my bladder 24/7).

I so wish I could send these to some of my right winger Facebook friends, but I don’t want to cause any tension, or get unfriended. Because I loves me some Facebook.

Here’s the one I’ll be sending to my schmoopy pants tomorrow. I’m glad his birthdays are finally back to normal and we don’t spend the whole day thinking about the other reason September 11th is a big deal (though it’s definitely on our minds).

And from Blue Barnhouse, here is the card that I fully expect to receive from one of my daughters someday.

(In case you can’t see that tiny print, it reads: Dear Psychotic Bitch, Time out is a breeze and a joy without your menopausal ass all up in my face. Take my advice and wear an overnight pad just in case. Love, Your Daughter) 

I love that kid. Maybe that’s because I’m a psychotic bitch.

Cards can be found at http://www.someecards.com/ and http://www.bluebarnhousestore.org/index.php

Zantac is my lover

And other Random Tuesday Thoughts…

Yes, I have taken a lover. His name is Zantac. He is small and round and pink and when I become one with my little pink lover, he takes away the desire that I have to rip this ass baby from my womb with my bare hands JUST TO STOP THE BURNING.

 Sometimes I am rudely reminded just how bizarre it can be to grow humans in your abdomen. I was watching Zaboomafoo with Avery the other day when they did this little segment on some parrots that live in South America. They make their homes on the side of a cliff and they eat big chunks of clay out of the side of the cliff. And as I was watching these parrots eat the clay I thought to myself, “Ooh, that looks good.”

Then I thought to myself, “What the fuck?”

Then I thought to myself, “I wonder where I can find some clay like that?”

Then I thought to myself, “Stop it with the freaking craving for clay right now, weirdo. No way am I looking for South American clay so you can fulfill another of your bizarre cravings.”

Seriously, I wanted to eat the clay. I would eat the clay if it was right here in front of me.

I also crave gasoline, rubber, rocks and ice.

I craved gasoline and rubber and ice when I was pregnant with Avery and my OB was not alarmed  by it, as long as I didn’t actually eat gasoline and rubber, but I’ve never wanted to eat rocks and clay before. It’s maddening. Why can’t I crave tacos or pickles or something normal that I could actually eat?

 Edward who? Because seriously:

 This is so accurate that it’s scary:

 

I laugh so hard when I watch that video. And then I cry because it induces a PTSD-like chemical reaction in my brain. It’s like the writers of that show are peeping in our windows.

Here’s our cat: 

Just because she’s a badass.

 Alley Cat says go see Keely at The Unmom for more Random Tuesday Thoughts.  Also, because she’s the shiznak.