What is an uterine inversion?

A uterine inversion is when the uterus turns inside out after childbirth. It can happen in various degrees, varying from still within the body to completely outside (which is what happened to me.) The biggest problems come from it's inability to clamp down and stop bleeding and after the body senses the placenta has detached (or at least moved out of the cervix and still connected to the inside out uterus), the body closes the cervix shuts once again. To your body, the mission is complete. Because of this, the doctor must move quickly to get the uterus back in place before the cervix closes completely. My doctor said that there are three options when there is an inversion: 1) manual correction 2) laproscopic or other surgical correction 3) hysterectomy. This is a very rare complication, but it does happen. I have my own theory on why it happened to me. But that is neither here nor there. Any other questions? Please leave them in the comments!!

Recovery

Recovery. At what point can you say you are fully recovered? I don’t know. But as every moment passes I become ever so much closer to that point, if it really exists.

Birth is notorious for ravishing its victims, even if everything goes as planned. But what happens when things don’t go as smooth as you would like? Here is my story of recovery.

After a nearly perfect natural birth my placenta decided to give everyone some problems and failed to detach, consequently my uterus came out inside out with the placenta still attached. My doctor tried to fix it in the room, all the while nurses were multiplying to help out, some giving me shots to stop my bleeding, some putting oxygen on me. My uterus wouldn’t go back, so I got rushed to the OR where I was put under and they were able to fix me without surgery. I came to and was back in my room, listening to the nurses and my family talk. I had an oxygen mask on, a new IV on my left arm where my 4^th blood transfusion was running, and a blood pressure cuff hooked up to my other arm. I was too weak to move. So I had no way of communicating that I was awake, so I just laid there looking at the clock periodically. And thus my journey of recovery started.

After about 30 minutes of being back in my room, my nurse gave me a mug of ice water. It was too heavy for me.  She poured out half and I still struggled with it. I told her I was fine because I didn’t want her to know that it was still too heavy. So once she left I made my husband pour even more out. I ended up just giving up on the water and went to sleep.

I was able to hold my baby and try to feed her 5 hours later. It still kills me that I was too sick to even register that I had another daughter for half of that time. We had to use a billion pillows for her to be on since I still had no strength to hold much of her weight.

I stayed in the hospital for 2 days. The whole time I was there I would get episodes of feeling very light headed, dizzy, and almost pass out. They questioned if I would need another unit of blood, but the blood work said I was ok, so they just gave me more IV fluids. When I got home the weakness and light headedness stayed. I refused to hold the baby while standing for several weeks. I would be fine and normal, and then all of a sudden it was like the floor fell from under me and my head was spinning. The only relief I could find would be to sit down and close my eyes. It was a horrible way to live for over a week. Eventually, the lightheadedness turned into headaches. They became a very constant part of my existence for several months.

At my 6 week check-up I was given the go ahead that I was completely healed. If only it had been so easy.  I was being tormented daily by panic attacks. My uterine inversion was constantly on my mind. I started nursing school, which gave me a large distraction. But when I wasn’t thinking about school, my mind was reliving the whole event. My husband would try to cuddle with me and I would see my doctor’s bald head. That bald head soon became a sign of frustration, sadness, and anger.  I would feed my baby and remember my first time holding her with contentment. And then I would cry. The littlest things would bring on a panic attack. This is not how my life was supposed to be.

Several months later, we were learning about labor and delivery in school and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit there and listen to how birth was “supposed” to be, I couldn’t look at the happy family with a new baby. So I left class, and just ran. I ran from everything. I ran from school, I ran from the trauma, I ran from life. …But eventually I had to come back. By that time, class was over. My teacher noticed me walking in to get my book bag and gave me a hug. Then she said something that I will never forget—that I was not crazy. I went through a traumatic event, and this is how my body happened to process it, but eventually there would be enough time that it wouldn’t sting so bad. She also suggested that I talk to a counselor. Recovery.

This was the turning point to my recovery. I saw a counselor who diagnosed me with PTSD. He taught me coping mechanisms to help calm my attacks before they controlled me. Soon I found myself going from multiple attacks a day to one a day and then weekly. I learned what a lot of my triggers are and what to do when they come up. Now this is recovery.

My PTSD has changed my life. I still have a lot of guilt over not being with my baby for her first few hours, and consequently her first few months because I was in the depths of this creature. A lot of my flashbacks stem from this guilt now days. I get strange panic attacks that are different than my PTSD attacks. I don’t know what is worse, because they just pop up for no apparent reason. Luckily, I am prepared with better coping skills to help calm them down before they turn into something more.  I also have spent a lot of time crying. I thought I had done a good job hiding it until my 4 year old asked me why I cry all the time. How do I explain that my tears come from somewhere deep down that yearns for an escape of this madness? Recovery. 

About 14 months after my baby’s birth, I had an awesome opportunity to pick a floor to do my senior capstone for nursing school. I picked labor and delivery at the hospital it all happened. I had to do it. I had to prove to myself that I am stronger than my situation. My PTSD was not going to control me. Walking in those doors and staring down the hall to my room was the single hardest thing I think I will ever have to do. My 135 hours there brought back so many flashbacks. Some just by walking in my room or the OR, and some by the experiences I witnessed. However, with each one I got stronger and their hold on me got weaker. I learned that I am not ready to be a labor and delivery nurse, which is what I needed to know. But I also learned that my experience came to me for a reason.  Recovery.  

Now, 18 months later my attacks are very mild compared to where they used to be. They still sneak up on my when I least expect it, such as reading a blog about newborns, but they don’t have that hold on me anymore. I actually welcome them for a moment because it reminds me of what I have gone through and that I am, in fact, a warrior mom.  

 

shadows

Today I cry. I cry for that girl in the bed screaming in pain. I cry for continual healing and empathy. I cry for those who have yet to endure this torment.

I morn for the girl I used to be. The girl who thought I could do anything. The girl who only saw life as rainbows. I miss that girl. Honestly I do. Now all I  look for is for something to go wrong. Just waiting.

How do you go on from this? I'm trying the best I can. How do I make the nightmares stop at night. Or at least make me dream. I don't dream anymore.

Sometimes I just feel like I am living in a shadow. I just want to step out into the sun. But this Shadow has protected me for over a year. I don't even know if I would know what to do if I were to make that jump.

So for tonight I cry.

Peace

I am half way through precepting. And want to know what? I am actually sad. I don't want to leave. I don't know if I will ever be there. I can hope. I can pray, but who knows. This last couple of weeks has been probably the hardest  have had to deal with in a long time. Its hard not to think about my own birth process when its there in front of you for 12+ hours. Its even harder when you have PTSD that causes these memories to be.... I guess more than memories. My first 3 shifts I was constantly on the verge of falling, or actually falling as the moments took me.

I have finished 5 shifts and I did not have one panic attack the last two. I spent a lot of time in OR. I was worried about that as the OR was a big part of my situation. Each step I took in there I could feel myself getting stronger and stronger. There would be moments I would let my mind wonder, and I had the control to say you know what mind, this isn't your party. I'm not going to do your bidding today. And I didn't. I stayed tear free the whole day.

Then my last day we were going to help receive a baby in the room I had Ava in. I didn't even flinch walking in and seeing the mom there ready to give birth. We ended up not actually staying for the actual birth for some reason. But it wasn't because I  couldn't do it. Do you know how amazing that is?!?

I am still going to struggle. Heck I still do. There is not a day that goes by that I am reminded of that day for some reason. And want to know the sucky thing...I never see it as a day of happiness for bringing me Ava. But I just have to remember that I have had many many happy days with her. That one day does not define me or my relationship with my daughter.

Many people have told me that I am strong to be there blah blah blah. I have a hard time hearing that. I don't know why. I don't really feel strong. I am just doing what needs to be done. Who gets this kind of opportunity? not very many.

I have yet to see the nurse that I had. I work the opposite shift. I really hope that I get to see her and tell her thank you. There have been so many times throughout this crazy year called nursing school that I have thought of her and how she treated me. I hope that I will be such a great nurse as she was to me. I am forever grateful for her for so many reasons. And the thought that she will play such a large part of my life from here on out, yet I was only her patient for 12 hours shows me just how impactful a nurse can be. We can make or break someone's hospital stay. I am so honored to be a part of this humbling field. And while I have all of a sudden turned sappy, I am so grateful for my friends and family who have helped me through this last year, and especially the last few weeks. Everyone has known just what I needed to hear. Everyone's kind thoughts mean the world to me. Seriously. I am so blessed.

sigh

Guys, I am so torn. My third shift at L&D was full of everything. The start of the shift I was so in love with nursing here in L&D. It just felt right. Then the mother started to hemorrhage after she had her baby. I couldn't take it. I left and cried for 15 minutes, then called my teacher and cried for another 10 minutes. I told her I couldn't do it, and she said we can talk about moving me somewhere else. But I said no. I can't leave. I need to be there. I wish this wasn't such a big trial in my life. I wish it never happened to me. I wish I didn't have to deal with all these conflicting emotions. I know that's where I need to be...but can I really do it? Will I be putting my patients at risk for being selfish? I just don't know. Only time will tell.

strength

I am in my last semester of nursing school. This semester we precept, where we follow the same nurse for 12 of their shifts. You spend all of nursing school thinking about precepting, and where your dream floor would be. Sometimes, if you time it right it can become a good foot in the door once you leave. I knew a long time ago that I wanted to do Labor and Delivery. No, not wanted to do L&D, but NEEDED to do L&D. I needed to prove that I can do it. I needed to show myself that I cannot let this define and rule my life. So that was my goal for the past year. Then my teacher who just so happens to be a midwife who used to deliver babies at the hospital where I had Ava. She said she could get me an awesome preceptor. So when the list came around to write the top 3 places we wanted to go for some unknown reason I wrote that hospital as my first choice. What was I thinking!?! I found out that my teacher was able to get me on that floor back in July. I was super excited that I was able to do labor and delivery. I was somewhat concerned to go back, but figured I would have enough time to grow and get used to the idea. Time grew and I got more and more excited.

Well, 3 days before my first shift I was driving by the hospital and all of a sudden it all came crushing down. I cried for probably 10 minutes on my drive. Had I made the wrong choice? How could I be so foolish to think that I can do this??? I was so tempted to call my teacher and tell her that I couldn't do it anymore. If it wasn't 11 PM, I probably would have. So instead I called my best friend and cried for another 10 minutes. All of a sudden the day I had been looking forward to became a day of dread. Somehow the days between then and my first day seamed to go faster that humanly possible.

All of a sudden I was driving myself to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. Blaring the radio. I was not ready. This was too soon. I thought about turning back so many times. But somehow I did it. I parked, collected myself, and walked in. The elevator opens up and if you look straight ahead you see one room door. That happened to be THE room door. Take a deep breath, Alicia. Here we go.

We got our day going and miraculously I was kept my cool. My first delivery, I stood there as the tech was setting up. BAM! flashback number two. Deep breath. I got through the delivery ok, my heart raced a bit after the baby was delivered until the placenta came out. Then mom held the baby for the first time. BAM. Flashback number three. Or I guess you could call it a flashback. More sadness, as that's what I wanted sooooo bad. That's why I went through my10 hour pictocin induced contractions naturally. I didn't want to be stuck to my bed. I wanted to hold my baby right away, put her to the breast and have a great nurser. I wanted to be one of those granola mamas. But instead all that pain was pointless. I did not get that moment after birth I had waited for for ooooh about 4 years. And I still want that moment, but now know that that won't happen.

But I didn't have time to dwell on that, because there was a baby down the hall minutes from being born. So we rushed down there. That birth turned out a lot better. My nurse was charging, so she wasn't in the room, so I couldn't do anything but watch. But that was fine. It can be done. Birth doesn't have to be scary.

I left that day feeling 10 times better than when I started the shift. Maybe I can do this after all.

Day two was today. My nurse gave me a tour. All of a sudden she was showing me the OR. BAM flashback x10. Those are the memories that I hate the most. luckily that was at the end of the tour and the next thing was a bathroom down the hall, so I excused myself. And I cried. And cried. and screamed. And perhaps cried some more. But then I was done. It was done. I truly hope that that is my turning point.

 I really can do this. I am as strong as I hoped. I have yet to actually step in the doors of my room or the OR. So those days may be challenging. But I have faith that I am there for a reason. I can do it. And I will. I can still use your prayers and kind thoughts during this next month. But for now, today, I feel like this is where I am supposed to do.