Thursday, October 20, 2011

Five Days!

Astute readers will notice that we’ve skipped a day in the countdown. This is not a mistake—my C-section has been moved up one day, to Wednesday, October 26, which means my hospital adventure will come to an end one day sooner. The change has nothing to do with anything medical; just my doctor shifting around her schedule. (And she assured me there was nothing problematic about my already-large baby.) So the end is truly in sight.

I am more ready than ever to get home. Lucia has a cold, and I want to be there for sick-baby snuggling; she visited today and spent most of the time just sitting on my lap, playing with her Minnie Mouse, not even venturing closer to our other visitors, a friend and her two-and-a-half-month-old baby.

And I’m ready to get off the 14th floor—Antepartum—where my condition, though technically high-risk, pales in comparison to what I’ve been hearing about the other women. I haven’t had a Big Bleed, I’m otherwise healthy, and the health and well-being of my baby has never once been in question, even when I was first admitted—if she’d been born then, she might have had a bit of NICU time, but she ultimately would have been fine. But my previous roommate, whom I wrote about in the last post, did end up delivering her 25-week-old baby, who was just over one pound and is looking at a three-month NICU stay and who knows what complications. She also, in the same delivery, had to deliver the baby’s dead twin. I’m not entirely sure how you ever get over something like that. And my current roommate, who arrived last night, just found out her 22-week-old pregnancy is no longer viable because there is almost no amniotic fluid; her water broke, and I heard the doctors telling her the pregnancy would have to be terminated. (I obviously don’t know all the details. I know only the bits I’ve heard through the curtain.)

Anyway—it’s all horrible, hearing these poor girls crying over on the other side of the room while I read the Twilight books and watch ABC sitcoms on my computer and enjoy visits from my beautiful daughter and await the arrival of a kicking, already thriving second daughter. I know there are reasons for keeping me here, but I definitely feel like a fraud, and a very fortunate one at that. It feels like the worst kind of gloating to even have a picture of Lucia tacked up by my bed.


Mrs MacKenzie said...

poor girls :(

Kristin said...

Hi, Margo. It's Kristin, your roommate a few roommates back. I found your blog and wanted to write. For liability reasons, they wouldn't let me off the postpartum floor to come visit after I gave birth. All ended well for me -- we had a beautiful boy, Jack, at 6 lb, 2 oz., and the past week has been exhausting and exhilarating. I see you only have a few more days to go. Good luck getting through the last of the bed rest. I don't miss those weeks of sitting, staring and overthinking. The c-section itself was actually interesting - it lasted 30 minutes total, the spinal didn't hurt, and I was lightly dopey, to the point where I couldn't spot my husband in the crowd of masked strangers in the room. The only discomfort was a few minutes where I felt I couldn't catch my breath (told this was normal), and a full day of excessive itchiness as the epidural wore off. You'll see some of the same nurses in postpartum and be sure to walk the halls at all hours to get your legs back. I had no problems with gas, bowels and all the rest of it. Hang in there and write me if you'd like, Best of luck