I wanted to take a moment to write about the care team at the hospital during our Labor, Delivery, and Recovery. First, I am not used to being "the patient". I spent many nights in the hospital (the same one where I delivered, as a matter of fact) with my dad during his cancer journey. I am used to being the caregiver, sitting by the bedside. But over three days in the hospital, I needed that team. And they showed up.
Let me first say, the details are a blur, as in, I cannot quite remember what any of these people looked like. I was in such a haze. And I've forgotten a lot that was said to us. But, my gratitude remains the same.
When I finally got to Labor and Delivery around 3 or 4 am (after my "therapeutic rest"), I was greeted by two night nurses- Olivia and Alex. Olivia was my main nurse and truly, she got me through the morning until 7 am. She walked me through every single thing that was happening, taught me how to breathe through the contractions (all the videos I had watched previously went out the window and while Tom was an INCREDIBLE partner who let me almost break his hand, neither of us had done great at remembering to breathe. Olivia held me up in the bathroom when I was keeled over. She was there during my epidural, holding my hand and explaining what was going on. She made sure I always had ice chips. She was just amazing and I am so grateful!
At shift change at 7 am, I had a new nurse coming in to take care of me while we waited for Zackary to be born. Her name was STephanie and I will honestly never forget her. Stephanie was the calming presence I needed. She came in my room a LOT- mostly to adjust the monitor on my belly that was watching Zackary's heart beat. She never seemed panicked, but I could tell she was focused on ensuring the monitor was set up correctly to watch what was going on. When it was time to push, Stephanie was all business and made sure I knew what to expect, when to push, what would be happening, etc. She was the first to show me how to breastfeed, just shortly after Zack was born. And she was monitoring me closely after birth to make sure I was not bleeding too much. She was serious about her job, but also gentle and kind. I just adored her and when she rolled me up to the recovery floor and we had to say goodbye, I got a little sad that she wasn't staying with us. We had just gone through this incredible experience together!
I obviously can't talk about our labor and delivery and skip over how lucky we were that a friend of our family, Paula, delivered our son. She is a doctor at the practice I go to, and obviously there was no guarantee she'd actually be on call that day. But the stars aligned. Truth is I had been secretly praying for that. She delivered for both of my best friends, and I knew I'd want her in that delivery room (although truly I love all the doctors at my office so much any of them would have been fine). Anyways, she was amazing. From a simple *pop* of breaking my water to delivery Zackary and placing him in my arms. While pushing, it was her voice I heard loudest telling me that the baby was coming, how close I was, it was time to meet him, etc. During pushing, she was joking around, asking me where my Taylor Swift playlist was and telling me she loved the nursery. It's a super surreal thing to go from one moment chatting to the next giving all my might to push out that baby. But with her help, I loved that experience. I wanted to show her that I could do it, that I was strong, I wasn't going to give up. When I could hear Tom chiming in, it made it even more motivating to push with everything I had. I will always remember the moment she pulled out Zackary and said "here's your baby, Megan". So amazing and as much as everyone tells me how strong I am for doing it, she's just as strong for leading me through it.
Once in recovery, a different floor of the hospital, a new team took over to watch over us. They taught me more about breastfeeding, how to give Zackary a bath, etc. And the sweet, sweet aides who helped me get to the bathroom to show me how to care for my wound. My word. Truly, once someone is crouching down in front of you showing you how to do that, you've lost any embarrassment about being naked in front of these people. They were so kind the way they taught me, and helped me get back and forth from my bed to the bathroom. After a few tries I was told I was free to do it on my own, and released from my IV bag/stand. On Friday morning, I woke up to a new nurse who was holding Zackary. Now, it had been a long night- he was fussy, I was tired, I was grasping breast feeding but frustrated because no matter what I did it seemed it wasn't enough for him. So when that nurse mentioned something to me about his sucking, I just burst into tears. I was legit naked on my bed, crying. I had given up trying to put my gown on and off with feeding him. She came right over to comfort me, and was the first to tell me that using a pacifier is OKAY! She also reminded me that breastfeeding is HARD WORK and an emotional toll on our bodies and that if after a while I decided I didn't want to do it, that was okay too. As she was gently talking to me, a midwife from my OB/GYN Practice also walked in. What a scene that must of been. My nurse and my husband were standing over me. I was naked and crying. And she totally backed up everything the nurse had already said. Plus. she shared with me that my emotions were GOING to be all over the place and that the hormones rushing out of you after birth are equivalent to taking 100 birth control pills.
Through the rest of that day, we had frequent visitors- pediatrician, nurses, lactation consultant, blood draw, photographers, etc. Folks were in an out constantly- just when things would get quiet and I would fall into a sleep, someone would walk in. One time in particular I was VERY close to sleep and my poor nurse came in with my Rho Gam shot- which goes in your butt. So, no more sleeping for me. We PROBABLY could have asked to stay in the hospital a bit longer, but honestly, what drove me to wanting to go home so soon was the constant in and out. I was eager to get home and figure out our new life, and to introduce Zack and Leo.
Just before our official discharge, my nurse came back and said that before we could leave, they were sending a social worker to come talk to me. I had, apparently, scored high on the "risk for Post Partum Depression/Anxiety" test that I had to take before we left. Fun fact, I didn't have to take the test to tell you that. I KNOW that. As a sufferer of anxiety since I was ac hild, it's no surprise I am going to be very anxious as we navigate these waters. I've already felt it- is he okay? Is he eating enough? Going to the bathroom enough? Will he ever sleep normally? Okay, now he's sleeping, but is he breathing? Is he sleeping TOO much? Is he too cold? Too warm? Am I doing okay?
There are SO. MANY. THINGS. to worry about. And yes, I've had my share of crying sessions since we've been home. But I am proud of myself for making it 48 hours so far. I'm scared as hell for when Tom has to go back to work (more on our teamwork in the next blog post!), but I've got support. I WILL be reaching out for help when I need it. I will cry. I will have irrational thoughts. But I will stay on top of therapy, taking my meds, and being open with my doctors.
Okay, this is another post that is more of a diary dump than a thought provoking topic, but I truly want to remember all this one day. Next time, I'll be sharing a bit about the team work that Tom and I have built together.
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