Hey everyone, it’s Jeannett again.
Andy’s done a really good job of updating the blog and keeping everyone in the loop with the craziness that is going on around us right now. (He did most of it from his iPhone in case you were wondering…)
I won’t go back and repeat anything, but I thought I’d just give you all some insight into what these events FEEL like. For me anyway. This might be a little jumbled and long…but then again, my brain is pretty jumbled…
Having a c-section is terrible. There is already soooo much to deal with and do…and the fact that I move at a snail’s pace, am in constant pain, can’t shower or dress unassisted, and getting in and out of bed is a 5+ minute task…it just makes it all that much harder to deal with. Not only do I have only part of my family home, but I’m not even in a position to be the mommy I want to be to the ones Ihave nearby. It breaks my heart.
As much as I hate having had the surgery, I know that it was the best thing after all…well, really, it was all that was left. We tried EVERYTHING to avoid it, because I knew that the recovery would be long and hard. And I feel okay with it all because I know that we truly tried anything and everything and there really weren’t any other options left. Ultimately, I think that my uterus was overextended and wouldn’t contract properly…which is why even with the highest dosage of Pitocin running through my system, my contractions were little bitty rolling hills instead of the steep peaks they should have been.
I never, in a *million* years thought that I would have to deal with the NICU when I had carried my girls to 38weeks, 5 days. Especially when they were both big and pink and looked very, very healthy. But by day 2, Jill who had been my nursing champ, quit nursing. And then the weird shakes and twitches and blinking. It kept getting worse. Nurses started worrying. And you know the rest of the story. Interestingly enough, all through the labor, Jill’s heart rate was steady, stable and looked great. When the doctor suggested a c/s, it was for LUCY, not Jill. Jill never ONCE showed any signs of distress. So it makes me wonder if her oxygen deprivation occurred at a different point during the pregnancy? I guess we’ll never know…
When they wheeled Jill away to the NICU, I sobbed. I had three kids…and they were all in three different places. Andy was with Jill at Sierra Vista. I was with Lucy at French, and Henry was back home with family/friends. How can a family exist like this? It just seemed like the wrongest kind of wrong to me. No one was together. It just wasn’t right.
So, I opted to be discharged as soon as possible so that I could at least visit with Jill (they wouldn’t transfer me and Lucy). Leaving the hospital was so awful. As they wheeled me out with little Lucy, the waiting room cooed and awwed and whispered “oh, how cute!” “congratulations!” and I just kept my eyes focused on my feet. I wanted to scream STOP LOOKING AT US!!! THIS ISN’T CUTE!!! THERE’S ANOTHER BABY!!! THERE SHOULD BE TWO BUNDLES IN MY ARMS AND THERE ISN’T AND I AM ANGRY!!! I broke down when Andy opened up the back door and there was only one car seat. This wasn’t the happy moment every parent dreams of. This was sad and depressing and heart breaking. There were no happy smiles or excited glances. Just a serious tone and anxiously wanting to go to French to see Jill. We didnt speak the whole way to Sierra Vista. I know that makes it sound like she died, and she obviously didn’t and isn’t. But that’s still how it felt.
When I saw my little Jill again, I cried again. She looked perfect. Big, chubby, a double chin and the sweetest pink lips you’ve ever seen. But she twitched and blinked constantly. She had no control over her motions. You could feel it even through the tightly swaddled blanket. I fed her a bottle and she wouldn’t take it. Andy told me how to hold her differently and then told me when I should burp her and how she liked to be held. It was so strange to realize that you didn’t even know your own baby girl. That Daddy had it down and had to clue me in to all her little likes and preferences. I finally handed her to him and he took over like a pro. Cooing to her “Come on my strong little girl, let’s show them that you want to go home.” “Come on baby girl, Daddy needs you to eat”. It both broke my heart and melted it. Andy says that they will forever have a special bond since he spent so many of those first hours alone with her in the NICU. He obviously loves Lucy too, but you can see in how he holds Jill that she has him in the palm of her little chubby hand.
I’m hopeful that she gets better quickly and comes home soon. But I worry about my girl. What Andy didn’t mention that the neurologist said is that her condition and symptoms are classic of a DROWNING. I just about lost it. That is not what a mom wants to hear. She did say that any long term effects can be non-existent, severe, or anything in between…and that that”s true of any NICU baby.
My heart aches. My arms feel empty even though they cradle Lucy. My family feels broken and incomplete. But even still I feel blessed beyond measure. Regardless of the outcome, we will be a family soon and I can’t wait for my girls to be back together. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your well wishes and mostly for your prayers. I’m not really answering my phone right now, but please don’t be offended…I just need a little space right now…
Keep praying. We serve a mighty God. That I have never been so sure of in my life.