When the time came to deliver I had a scheduled c-section. Although I had a c-section when I delivered my first child Jonah. I was really nervous, and anxious. Mainly, because after I gave birth to Jonah I had serious complications. My entire body was swollen because I retained a massive amount of water throughout my body. It was so bad that I couldn't urinate for days!
When I would touch any part of my body you could hear the water inside of me.( Imagine poking a water bed, that was the sound my body made). I could not move much due to the pain of the surgery, in addition to the weight of carrying all that water. I would sit in a recliner chair all day and all night. When I finally did have the urge to urinate, I would slide off the recliner while holding on to the arms of the chair and pee in a large coffee tin. While my husband was at work, I kept Jonah in my arms, or in a bassinet next to me. I would not move not even to get something to eat until my husband came home. That is how BAD the pain was. This complication lasted for three entire weeks after I had Jonah.
When I gave birth to Roman he was 23 weeks and I had a natural delivery. He weighed .14lbs. Because he was so small there was no physical pain, or side effects from that delivery other than emotional.
So when the time came to deliver Calista I was unsure of what to expect. Everything was smooth sailings until the time came to recieve an epidural for the pain. (which for me is the best part of the delivery process). The anesthesiologist had a hard time finding the right spot between my bones in my spine to administer the medicine. He ended up poking me FIVE times. Each time the needle would hit a bone in my back. The pain was so bad I couldn't move or talk. My body was literally shaking, and all I could do was cry. After the fifth try the anesthesiologist must have realized that he needed help. He argued to the nurse that my frame is so small that there is not alot of space between the bones in my spinal cord, making it difficult to find the right spot to administer the epidural. The nurse felt so bad for me that she paged my doctor right away. When my doctor arrived she was very upset on my behalf. (She was almost as mad as I was, but I was so traumatized. I looked like I had been hypnotized, just staring blankly out into space). My doctor located a more experienced anesthesiologist who was able to administer the shot with only ONE try.
From then on we were back on track.
When Calista was born I didn't get the opportunity to see her right away. She was in such distress that she had to be rushed to the NICU. (When I think about it she didn't even cry when she was born).
The doctor told me that her condition was pretty severe, the pediatric doctors are working on her, and that she is in good hands.
Truthfully, even then I didn't think much of it. I knew there was a possibility that she would have to fight a little when she was born, but I just had so much faith in her that I didn't question whether or not she would survive. At least not in that moment. Maybe I was just so tired and heavily medicated that I wasn't thinking straight.
It wasn't until I was out of the recovery room, and the nurse wheeled me while in the hospitl bed to the NICU to see my daughter for the first time nine hours later, that it set in how sick she really was.
It's not that Calista looked sick, because to tell you the truth I still didn't get to see her fully. She was connected to all these cords, including one in her nose. She was covered in a blanket all the way up to her nose so all I saw was her closed eyes, and it only lasted a minute, because I had to get back to my room.
When the nurse told me that I wouldn't be able to see my daughter again until I was able to get up and walk enough to get in a wheel chair the reality of the situation finally hit me.
Immediately I was devasted. The feeling was all too familiar! When you give birth, but have no baby in your arms to show for all your hard work and effort it is a crippling feeling.
I felt like I was being attacked by GOD himself!
I felt like I was being punished!
I felt worthless!
I felt mistreated!
I felt responsible!
To not be able to hold my newborn baby after previously losing a baby, after desperately wanting a baby for two years really put me in a mental state of depression. All I did was cry, and worry, and convince myself that I was cursed. But I'm telling you, watching my husband go to the nicu, and seeing pictures of him holding our baby before me! Really motivated me to fight through my pain and really try to get out of this hospital bed and get to my daughter.
Because even though I'm cursed, even though GOD must hate me, even though I'm worthless!
I had to realize that Calista is NOT!
She is so perfect to me, so innocent, but most importantly she is still ALIVE!
For her I would do ANYTHING!
For her I would FIGHT! Fight against my pain, my thoughts, and my feelings.
Let go of the obsession of how unfair this whole situation is, and find the strength to get up and get to her.
When I finally stopped thinking about me, and started thinking about what Calista must be feeling, what she was going through and I finally did the work the nurses was asking of me, and was finally able to get out of the hospital bed and into that wheelchair.
That was the moment I became Calista's mother.
When I would touch any part of my body you could hear the water inside of me.( Imagine poking a water bed, that was the sound my body made). I could not move much due to the pain of the surgery, in addition to the weight of carrying all that water. I would sit in a recliner chair all day and all night. When I finally did have the urge to urinate, I would slide off the recliner while holding on to the arms of the chair and pee in a large coffee tin. While my husband was at work, I kept Jonah in my arms, or in a bassinet next to me. I would not move not even to get something to eat until my husband came home. That is how BAD the pain was. This complication lasted for three entire weeks after I had Jonah.
When I gave birth to Roman he was 23 weeks and I had a natural delivery. He weighed .14lbs. Because he was so small there was no physical pain, or side effects from that delivery other than emotional.
So when the time came to deliver Calista I was unsure of what to expect. Everything was smooth sailings until the time came to recieve an epidural for the pain. (which for me is the best part of the delivery process). The anesthesiologist had a hard time finding the right spot between my bones in my spine to administer the medicine. He ended up poking me FIVE times. Each time the needle would hit a bone in my back. The pain was so bad I couldn't move or talk. My body was literally shaking, and all I could do was cry. After the fifth try the anesthesiologist must have realized that he needed help. He argued to the nurse that my frame is so small that there is not alot of space between the bones in my spinal cord, making it difficult to find the right spot to administer the epidural. The nurse felt so bad for me that she paged my doctor right away. When my doctor arrived she was very upset on my behalf. (She was almost as mad as I was, but I was so traumatized. I looked like I had been hypnotized, just staring blankly out into space). My doctor located a more experienced anesthesiologist who was able to administer the shot with only ONE try.
From then on we were back on track.
When Calista was born I didn't get the opportunity to see her right away. She was in such distress that she had to be rushed to the NICU. (When I think about it she didn't even cry when she was born).
The doctor told me that her condition was pretty severe, the pediatric doctors are working on her, and that she is in good hands.
Truthfully, even then I didn't think much of it. I knew there was a possibility that she would have to fight a little when she was born, but I just had so much faith in her that I didn't question whether or not she would survive. At least not in that moment. Maybe I was just so tired and heavily medicated that I wasn't thinking straight.
It wasn't until I was out of the recovery room, and the nurse wheeled me while in the hospitl bed to the NICU to see my daughter for the first time nine hours later, that it set in how sick she really was.
It's not that Calista looked sick, because to tell you the truth I still didn't get to see her fully. She was connected to all these cords, including one in her nose. She was covered in a blanket all the way up to her nose so all I saw was her closed eyes, and it only lasted a minute, because I had to get back to my room.
When the nurse told me that I wouldn't be able to see my daughter again until I was able to get up and walk enough to get in a wheel chair the reality of the situation finally hit me.
Immediately I was devasted. The feeling was all too familiar! When you give birth, but have no baby in your arms to show for all your hard work and effort it is a crippling feeling.
I felt like I was being attacked by GOD himself!
I felt like I was being punished!
I felt worthless!
I felt mistreated!
I felt responsible!
To not be able to hold my newborn baby after previously losing a baby, after desperately wanting a baby for two years really put me in a mental state of depression. All I did was cry, and worry, and convince myself that I was cursed. But I'm telling you, watching my husband go to the nicu, and seeing pictures of him holding our baby before me! Really motivated me to fight through my pain and really try to get out of this hospital bed and get to my daughter.
Because even though I'm cursed, even though GOD must hate me, even though I'm worthless!
I had to realize that Calista is NOT!
She is so perfect to me, so innocent, but most importantly she is still ALIVE!
For her I would do ANYTHING!
For her I would FIGHT! Fight against my pain, my thoughts, and my feelings.
Let go of the obsession of how unfair this whole situation is, and find the strength to get up and get to her.
When I finally stopped thinking about me, and started thinking about what Calista must be feeling, what she was going through and I finally did the work the nurses was asking of me, and was finally able to get out of the hospital bed and into that wheelchair.
That was the moment I became Calista's mother.
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