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.  

 

The diagnosis

I knew that how I have been feeling since Ava's birth wasn't "normal." But I was somehow managing to get through it. Then this week in nursing school we are learning about "labor and delivery." I didn't know how much I internally was dreading this. That morning I was so tempted to just stay home and sleep. If it wasn't for someone waking up early to take care of Ava I probably would have. I got through the pregnancy part ok. I though I could do it. We took our break and was going to start labor when we got back. I sat at my table waiting for class to start trying my hardest not to just burst out crying. I can do this. I can do this. My teacher was well aware of my situation and said if I need to step out I can and she would understand. I can do this. We got to the third stage of labor, where the placenta is supposed to come out. I just kept my eyes down and wiggled my foot back and forth trying to not think much about anything. And then it was done. I did it. Only problem is there was a movie after. I could watch the labor part. Most of the women in the movie had an epidural, so it was different from mine. It was ok. I can do this. And then it went right to the mom holding a baby. There was only a momentary mention of the placenta. And that's when I broke. I didn't even realize what I was doing, but I was out the door and outside walking in the parking lot. I just kept walking. And crying. and crying.

That's when I realized I can't do this.  I finally made my way back and the class was gone for the day. My teacher saw me and asked if I was ok and I just bawled. She gave me a hug and I just cried harder. Someone understood my anguish. Someone told me that I could talk to her whenever I need. I felt kind of silly giving the head of the nursing department a huge ol hug crying my eyes out. But it was needed.

I left the school with two things in mind. 1) I was put in this school for a reason. I am going through this for a reason. It sucks. A lot. But sometime in the far far future I will be able to use this and help someone the way my teacher helped me. 2) I need professional help. So I called my OB office and asked for a referral for a therapist.

I called him and he was able to get me in two days later. I felt kind of strange because his office is at the doctors office. So I was sitting in the same waiting room I had waited in all year. Only then I was filled with excitement that I got to see my baby. This time I was full of trepidation.

I started talking to him and in no time at all he told me I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. So I'm not crazy. And it totally makes sense and not really too shocking to be honest.
So here is my story of trying to live my life as normally as possible with this disorder.

The Trauma

(I wrote this a week or so after this all happened. To read about the Labor go here)

Ava was here but there was something instinctual in me saying I'm not done yet. They say the placenta just comes out and you don't really realize it. Well my doctor was still there with the cord in his hand and a "hmmm this is different" look on his face. I was still in a lot of pain. I asked him if everything was ok and he said yes the placenta was just having a hard time coming out. Before I knew it I was in worse pain than I was when I had her. I remember him saying "its inside out" and there were a few extra nurses there. Then all of a sudden I saw this bloody blob of something (my uterus) come out of me and a look of terror in the doctors eyes. He immediately tried to stuff it back in. That is when the true screaming and pain began. When I say stuff I mean jab furiously all over. Oh my gosh. It hurt worse than the worse contraction, worse than trying not to push, worse than the ring of fire. I remember saying "bad doctor" (lol) and yelling at him to stop. A nurse shuts the door, as I probably was making too much noise and scaring all the normal laboring mothers. At this point everything starts to run together. He called the anaesthesiologist to come. A nurse jabbed me in the leg with a shot. People were running all over. I remember looking past all this to my mom holding Ava with a look of panic and thinking is this going to be the last time I see them. The anaesthesiologist comes and does his shpeal about all the risks we gave verbal consent and off I was to the OR. I whispered "I love you" as the rushed me past Chris.

I was wheeled down the hall to the OR and there were people coming out of the woodwork. My dad was in the hall and just looked at me. It hurt sooo bad. They push me in there and there were even more people. I started to go in and out here so all I remember are snipits. They moved me to a different table. I prayed that my children wouldn't be motherless. My blood pressure was dropping (54/36 I believe is what they said.) Everything hurt. Something was taking me away from it all and I was going in and out of consciousness. A nurse I had seen a week earlier when I thought I was in labor was there. Seeing her familiar face was comforting...as comforting as something could be in such a situation. The big light over head was blazing in my face. Then I was gone. I was in a white tunnel trying to find the way out. I don't know if I was actively thinking or dreaming. But whatever it was, I was "thinking" about how I was going to write about this in my blog (don't judge). I could hear my thoughts like someone was yelling them to me through a megaphone. The tunnel I was in started changing colors like a video game and all of a sudden I was trying to find the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (I blame my 2 year old for that one.) in the PacMan maze.

Then all of a sudden I heard familiar voices. I heard Zoey and some other strange noise through the megaphone. I tried to say something but all that could come out were moans. It took me a while to realize that the strange noise was coming from me! I started to wake up for moments at a time and just remember seeing the clock. I could tell Chris was on my side holding my hand. It felt good, like everything was going to be ok. Then I would go out again. But this time I was picturing my family at the bottom of the room with a curtain separating them from me playing parlor games. Then I would wake up and see the clock again. Then out. I don't know how long this happened. Then I was back for good. I could feel someone else hold my hand it was my mom. I kept my eyes closed for the most part trying to process what just happened and asking lots of the same questions. Everyone came over to see me. It was strange because I still didn't really know what happened. Slowly things started to clear up. I remember them saying they were going to give Ava a bottle, and that was the first time I remembered "oh yea, I have two kids now." It was kinda crazy. Its like I forgot all about the last 9 months of pregnancy and day of being in labor.

I couldn't move my arms because I had who knows what in/on them. One arm had my regular IV and blood pressure cuff. The other had something around it and my blood transfusion. I was really cold and they kept putting billions of blankets on me. But I couldn't really talk because I had Oxygen on. I was kinda in rough shape. My mouth was so dry. All I wanted was a drink but I couldn't move my arms or say anything to get it. So I just had to wait until someone came over to me. My nurse filled my mug up with ice. I couldn't even lift it up I was so weak. Chris emptied it to about a third full, and it was still too heavy. Everyone slowly trickled out and it was just Chris and I. They took Ava to the nursery and I fell asleep.

My nurse came in around 4:30 before shift change and explained everything to me when I was a little more with it. I had already been up for about an hour looking at the few pictures Chris had on his phone of my new baby. It didn't feel real. I kept thinking "this isn't my life" and I will soon wake up and be warm in my bed.

My nurse told me the placenta never detached from the uterus so when it came out it dragged it with it and turned it inside out, kinda like when you pull a sock from the toe to get it the right way. He tried to put it back in, that's when It really hurt. But since I was loosing so much blood and in so much pain they had to rush me to the operation room. The problem lies in the fact that once the placenta is no longer there the cervix starts to close up, so time is crucial. At that point there were three possibilities. He could manually get it back.if it was open enough. Cut me open like a csection and get it through that way. or if those didn't work hysterectomy. There is technically 4 possibilities if that didn't work and I kept bleeding out, but lets not think about that. Luckily I got away with the easy one. and he stuffed it in place without cutting me. I did loose about 3-4 Liters of blood (the average person has about 5). And so I got 4 blood transfusions.

Apparently this is a super rare complication. My doctor has had it happen 3 other times in his 25 years. I had nurses say they had been in Labor and Delivery for 5 years, 12 years ect and had never seen it happen. Needless to say I was the talk of the nurses station. ....And that's saying something because I know triplets were born Wednesday too. Inverted Uteruses are pretty crazy I guess.

Chris and my family told me the worst part was having no idea what was going on. They just rushed me out of there without saying much and left puddles of blood all over the ground. They were left there with the baby just waiting. Not knowing if I was alive. After a while a nurse came in and said she was going to go see what was going on. Chris waited by the door and saw her walk up the hall and get called in another room. He kept wondering why no one was coming in to see Ava or tell them that I was ok or not.

I am recovering well just like a normal delivery at this point. I will probably be a little more tender than average. And I get these dizzy spells, which they think is due to all my blood loss and transfusions. But I can generally just sleep them off and I am fine. Ava is beautiful and Zoey is so in love. With everything that went down I wasn't able to hold her for 5 hours, so I was kind of worried about breast feeding. In fact that was one of the reasons why I wanted a natural birth in the first place, so she could be with me skin to skin right away. But lo that wasn't in the cards this week. I am so lucky to be here and raise my two little girls and enjoy my life as a family.