My Pregnant Surgery

When I was about 34 weeks along with Miss Little Foot, our daughter, I started having horrible pains. HORRIBLE. I had already had a complicated and uncomfortable pregnancy and was pretty used to having to calm myself and drink a water, or other soothing techniques to keep myself managed. Suddenly, though, I just started having sharp, intense, soreness on my right side. I felt like I couldn't walk, stand, or even sit down on my own. Moving hurt, I couldn't roll over without assistance. I knew something wasn't quite right. Little Foots heart rate was a fantastic 123-130 and she was moving okay, so when I called the nurses hotline and they told me I was being 'dramatic', I took a while and tried to think, "maybe I am, maybe I just need to man-up." So I spent the next few hours taking bath after bath, getting back rub after back rub, none making the pain more bearable, I finally went to Labor and Delivery Triage to see what could be done and what was wrong. I was monitored for a few hours because as it turns out, Little Foots heart rate was NOT okay, it had sky rocketed to a devastating 213!

The nurse immediately forgot my pain and started focusing on the baby. (rightly so!) She called in my OB and she arrived before I could even unhook my stuff to use the restroom so that my bladder would be empty when she came in to inevitably check me. She burst in and told me that she was sorry she was "late" and felt my belly and looked at my charts. She left to call the high risk specialist and returned with sad- but somewhat comforting news. Our tiny baby was having an anxiety attack. I bawled. How could she be so upset and uncomfortable inside me (supposedly the safest place in the world for her!) that she was having an anxiety attack?! (the good news is that an anxiety attack, while VERY sad and upsetting, is NOT going to affect her long term, as long as she could calm back down in under a day.) I wanted to hold her. I wanted to wrap her up in a blanket and hold her to my chest and stroke her cheek and tell her I love her. To say sweet calm things to her so she doesn't need to cry. To fix her problems like moms should and make her happy.I imagined her face crying and my heart broke into a million pieces. I felt like dying. The pain I was feeling physically would never measure up to the emotional hurt I was feeling as Lev laid his hands softly on my belly where she had a foot sticking out and I could see the hurt in his face, too. The doctor left and Lev gently pulled down the blanket and scooted the monitor over that laid on top her to record her heart beat, and told her he loved her and asked her rhetorical questions like, "why are you so upset in there?". I stifled sobs that hurt my ribs and buried my face in his chest.

A few hours later, I was still miserably in pain and sweating off what felt like an Olympic pool. But Little Foots heart rate slowed to a manageable 160. And stayed that way for about an hour. We took a sigh of relief and I felt like walking on egg shells. I swore inside my head I wouldn't walk too fast, eat spicy foods, or get upset until she was born, so she'd never have another anxiety attack, ever. (Until she's about 13, anyways!) The nursing staff forgot completely about my pain and when I tried to bring it up, they categorized it as round ligament pain. Which I knew was bullshit, but I hate complaining, and since Little Foot was doing alright, I accepted the forms that sent me home and Lev dressed me and took me to home, and then bed.

The night eased up and I felt good about my decision to come home. The next morning, however, was living hell. We checked Little Foots heart beat religiously every hour and listened for any hitches, pauses, or skips. ANYTHING. We only heard a perfect heart beat, and so I continued to try to bathe my pain away. I tried breathing through the pains, and Lev sat next to the bath tub with a cup of water and wiped the hair out of my face and said everything he could to coax me out of the tub and into some clothes to take me to labor and delivery. He insisted that this just wasn't me, it wasn't healthy, and something was terribly wrong. He got the labor and delivery bag and my clothes and waited anxiously around the house while I tried to convince him with the phrases the nurses had used, "Some people just have rough pregnancies.", "You just have to breath through it.", etc.

Finally around 2pm, I had had enough and called my drs office for advice on what I should say in Labor and Delivery to help them understand the pain I was in. I got transferred to an exasperated and annoyed "Cindy". I started to explain my pain starting with the fact that the pain I had trying to use the restroom in any fashion, was so horrible, I often avoided going until it was just as painful holding it in, and then fluidly sobbed trying to release anything. She stopped me, assuring me that I had an UTI. I told her I was tested just the day before, (and every week before that) for one, and had been VERY negative. Also that the pain was NOT a burning sensation during urination, but an extreme pressure that made it painful to sit on the toilette and release the muscle. She sighed loudly, and repeated that I DO have a UTI and that it's not "that bad". I let out a whimper because I was feeling so defeated and upset I didn't know where to take it from there. I decided to move on to my other pains. I told her that I had an intense pain on my side that made my eyes water when I tried to roll over or walk, and she again, sighed loudly, and said, "it's round ligament pain. It happens to a lot of pregnant people and everyone else gets over it. Other people work 40 hour weeks with it. So you're just going to have to grin and bear it. If you'd like, you can can come in again if you have to for another UTI testing. Anything else?".

I was so pissed and upset, that in order to keep my dignity and not sob uncontrollably over the phone, I had to respond to everything with, "mhm. Okay. I see." In a very monotone (and hopefully obviously pissed) tone. It's not my style to get angry when things don't go my way, but after I hit end on that phone call, my phone SAILED to the next room and I bawled  and screamed about how unfair and bitchy she was. I was so angry I got nauseous. I bawled and cried and ran another bath. Lev followed me in with a cup and a bendy straw, and kept rubbing my back and telling me it was time to leave, that this isn't normal and whether it's normal for everyone else or not, I needed help. I caved in about 3, but not to go to Labor and Delivery, because I refused to go in, get fisted, get an IV and be sent home because apparently, even though after 24 wks, you are supposed to take ALL of your medical emergencies to Labor and Delivery, they send you home the minute they can confirm you aren't in labor.

I got smart. I decided, I'd go to the adult urgent care, like everyone else, and when they tried to tell me "labor and Delivery is down the hall, though....", I'd say that I would like to be seen by these doctors and actually get help. The receptionist stared at my globous belly and reluctantly put my wrist band on. She went and got a dr and they glanced at the paperwork I'd filled out and at me several times. It was clear they weren't sure what to do.

The doctor called me back, and took my temperature. She helped me sit down and asked why I wouldn't go to L&D and what was wrong. I started with my pains and discomforts first, she agreed that these sounded like an internal infection, rupture, or other serious issue. I then told her I would really rather stay in this part of the hospital and be seen by these doctors. She asked why and I simply told her that L&D had already sent me home once with the pains and I couldn't take it another night, that it WAS something serious and I couldn't get anyone to listen to me or help me. She said it was policy that she was to inform L&D that a pregnant female was in the hospital and ill, and that they had the right to come collect me from her. She said that if they did not help me though, if they did not keep me, she would. If L&D discharged me in this state, that they had given up their right to collect me and were no longer offering me treatment.

L&D arrived shortly thereafter with a wheel chair and another know-it-all nurse. She asked me pointless questions that are meant to make you think they care about you personally, like what's the baby's gender, what do we plan to name her, etc. I answered shortly and crankily because honestly, I felt like I was being carted off to hell. The nurse that checked me into the back asked me what my discomforts were, and replied to EVERY GODDAMN ONE with, "well that's just pregnancy, deary!". Which made me want to rip her face off and scream at her. They put me in a room and suddenly I felt like the contractions were going to snap me in half. My side felt like it was going to rip open and I was just going to die. I started running a pretty high fever, yet Little Foots heart beat remained a healthy rate. I like to think it's because she knew I was getting us help. I started bawling and sweating like no tommorow. I felt like things were going down hill, and fast. We got a new nurse, and this is how I knew it was getting late. She was very kind and very attentative. Even when she thought it might be a common side effect, she would prod more to see, instead of stating her opinion. Eventually, I started to loose my vision and began to feel very weak.

I really did think it was the end. I started asking Lev to call a nurse so they could save Little Foot and I wanted them to take her out of me. I knew if I died, so would Little Foot, if she were still inside me. I told him to tell her i love her and that I didn't want to leave her. I started apologizing for everything I'd ever done from showing up late on our anniversary, to not liking his favorite band's album. His eyes glazed over and he kept saying, "You have nothing to be sorry for, this is all going to be over soon." He held my head to his chest and I felt a single sob. I knew I had to look bad, because Lev is the optimist of optimists. If he was doubting it, I was either not going to make it, or I was going to make it, barely. He kept whispering I love you, and I lost the feeling in my hands. I watched as my hand fell away from his and I was so tired I couldn't even cry. He picked my hand up and held it, and tried to curl my fingers around his in a frivolous effort. He looked at me, and I told him I couldn't feel them anymore, and a tiny part of me died inside. I wanted to hold his hand. What if I never held his hands again?

The nurse came back from her frantic search for a surgeon that would accept my special case and had found the Surgeon General, our last hope. He informed us that he would move us to a better room and they'd give us some time alone. He tried to roll me over but I screamed and cried, and he decided I would be booked for surgery in about an hour. I was moved to a different room, and the nurse explained that they would be removing my appendix. That they suspected it had ruptured. Initially, they told us they had no choice but to remove the baby. I begged for them to let me be awake to see her when she was born. They said no, that with the pain I was in, it just would be better to put me under general anesthesia.

About 30 minutes later the nurse returned with a smile on her face, she told me that they would leave the baby in and see if she can make it through the surgery. This pleased me, to know that she still had a chance of being born vaginally, and that Lev might still get to see her birth and hold her soon afterwards! They told me I had about 3 hours left to go, and if the surgery didn't work, it would be a slow, painful one, from there out. The realization that this surgery meant life or death was much harder on Lev than I. The nurse dimmed the lights and told me we had 30 min to go until surgery. Lev sat on the side of the bed and held my face and hands in his. He kissed me and told me everything would be okay. A little bit after that, the nurse came in and handed me a phone, she said I had 10 min until surgery and if I wanted to make a few phone calls, I should start now. I decided to call some family members and tell them what was going on, and that  loved them.

They came for me and Lev squeezed my shoulder and let go, he looked at all of the wires and he looked like he didnt know if he was allowed any further. The nurse told him to tell me good bye and he kissed me and pinned a piece of stray hair back, and said, "I'll see you when they're done, okay? Don't be scared. I love you.". The guy taking me to the OR looked at Lev and said, "you know, when they have major surgeries, they allow 2 people into the prep room with you, he could come.". Lev nervously navigated himself to the side of the bed and said alright, and the tech began our what felt like, eternity-long ride to OR. Half way there, I heard some one yell, "I'm her stepmom! Please let me say good bye! Is she asleep yet?!" The tech stopped and said she could be my #2, and an out of breath step mom appeared at the side of my bed, she held my wrist and hand tightly and kept repeating, "your going to be just fine, okay?". The tech said we were running a little late and I announced I couldn't feel patches of skin on my belly, and the patches I could burnt like fire. Things started moving a little faster. We got ot prep and the anesthesiologist sympathetically looked at my belly and said, "You must be it.". Lev and me talked about how even if we weren't there when she was born, we'd show her we love her the minute we get her. She pulled the papers out and had me drink some undesirable fluids and looked like she was having trouble making a big decision.

"Do you want to be awake?"

"Yes."

"I can do that."

I'd never felt so relieved. She explained that I would be the first person to undergo this particular surgery, fully conscious, and that she didn't really know what to expect, other than she was positive I wouldn't feel the cutting and what not. Lev and my step mother had to leave and they both walked away slowly stealing what I think was glances my way (couldn't see well). And I was wheeled down to my actual surgery room. They hooked me up to more machines and administered the epidural. This part was the worst pain during the entire surgery. The small shot mean to numb you before the large spinal, did not work. We did not have time to wait, or to try something else. Four people approached me and one held me in a hug-fashion, and the other two pulled at my arms. She inserted the rod and everyone held breaths while I screamed hoping I wouldn't move and paralyze myself. They laid me down and washed my belly. My arms got strapped to the sides and a man was assigned just for moral support.

The surgeon entered the room livid. I was not supposed to be awake. They hadn't asked him, and it was too late to change it. He began the surgery. Surgery was calm and smooth until he realized three things.
1. My baby had ceased movement and they couldn't get vitals on her
2. My anasthesia was wearing off at a dangerous and very early rate.
3. We had gone an hour over the estimated surgery time and he didn't have time to start the second incison. (it was supposed to be laproscopic, meaning two very small incisions, however, if that wasn't gong to work the preferred alternative was to make a large incision on my upper belly. The laproscopic had failed and he just didnt have time to start another.)

He grabbed the big scissors and I heard the big cut. He stuck his hand in the incision and some one else palpitated my uterus from the other side. A panic set in when I accidentally moved my leg, meaning in a matter of minutes, I would be able to feel my belly. He finally found it, and pulled it out. He began sewing me up and glueing the incision and I asked to see my appendix. Since I'm the first to be awake during this procedure, I imagine this was the first time anyone had asked. They reluctantly showed me and I said it looked funny. Everyone looked relieved that I didn't vomit or do anything of that sort. Finally, the surgery was over and I was taken back to my room.

I immediately felt better, and even after my anesthesia wore off, I felt like walking to the bathroom. My family came in and everyone looked happy. Lev was at my side the second he could be, and holding my hands and talking to Little Foot about how things were going to be okay now. I told them how it went and of course the baby turned out to be just fine. Infact, she was sleeping. Imagine that.