The Power of a Pump

This is my pump.  It's not one of those fancy, expensive ones, but it worked just as well and I love it.

 

I also received this one from the hospital.  Actually I asked for it.  I asked for what ever they had and could give me that may help me.  I got breast pads, lanolin, storage bottles, and a hospital goodie bag.

When I was first admitted to the hospital and they told me worst case scenario Gray would be delivered I was asked if I wanted to breastfeed or formula feed.  I wanted to breastfeed.  No question about it.  It was really important to me and I knew how good it was for my son to have breast milk

Since I found out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted to breastfeed as long as I could.  I had even attended my local La Leche League meetings to ask questions and learn more.  So, after Gray was born, I began to pump.  First with a hospital grade pump and then with my pumps. 

As I said in this previous post, Gray received donor milk until I could get down to him with mine.  I just want to take a quick moment to say that I am eternally grateful to those women who donate their breast milk.  It truly is something special.

At first, pumping made me sad.  I didn't really want to do it.  It wasn't fun and it sure wasn't the way I'd imagined breastfeeding to be.  I wanted a baby to feed, not a pump to hook myself up to.  In the beginning I didn't get a whole lot.  But, from what I had learned, that's normal, that was colostrum and every drop was precious.  So I kept at it and tried not to get discouraged.  Whenever the nurses checked on me at night, I pumped.  After I went home, I set my alarm to wake up and pump.  I just kept pumping.

My days were spent parked in my recliner.  I was in quite a bit of pain so I didn't move unless I had to.  Pumping was something to do.  I could only stare at my phone, my computer, the TV, or a magazine for so long.  Pumping broke up my days and made them go by quicker.


After a few days, my milk supply came in.  Due to my constant pumping I was getting a good amount of milk.  I was excited about this.  All my effort was paying off and my attitude began to change.  I had been feeling so helpless.  I couldn't hold my son, or be with him, hell, I hadn't even met him, but there was one thing I could do for him, I could pump.

So my message to anyone who's pumping/trying to pump.  Keep at it.  Reach out for help.  It's hard by yourself.  I don't know if I could have/would have done it with out all the information and help I'd been given.  Contact a lactation consultant, a local La Leche League leader, or friends or family who have breastfed.  And don't be shy, you're doing something amazing.

Pumping is hard.  It does feel unnatural.  It takes will power and discipline.  It's not always easy and it's oh so easy not to do it.  But, as I was told by a good friend, "You're giving your child an amazing gift."

Pumping is something I'm so glad I did and I'm trying to continue to do.  I was so dedicated to my pump, but to me, it wasn't just the pump, it was to my goal of getting breast milk to my son.

Recovering at Home

Going home is a great feeling.

Going home with out my sweet baby boy was hard.

When we got home, my husband and mom set me up in the recliner in the living room.  They put a chair next to me to help me get up and I was surrounded with mountains of pillows, blankets, snacks, water, my phone and my computer.  The recliner had become my parking spot.

After we (and by we I mean my mom and Shedrick) finished organizing everything, we sat down to make a list of the things I'd need.  At the top of my list was a breast pump.  I'd been using the hospital pump and they gave me a hand pump to use until I got one.  I knew which pump I wanted as I had done hours of research.  I also had no bottles, newborn or preemie sized clothes (as we were anticipating a large baby), diapers, wipes, bath stuff... the list went on and on.

The list was finally complete and I was on to tackle the next hurdle... shopping at Walmart.  Hell, who am I kidding, just getting out of my chair, walking, and getting in the car was hard.  I made it.  It hurt.  But I made it.  When we arrived at Walmart, Shedrick dropped mom and I off at the door and parked.  Then we proceeded to find one of those electric-wheelchair-cart things and I was all set.  I can't believe I'm going to share this picture because I look just absolutely awful but I forced a smile and here I am... on our shopping trip.

Shedrick and mom got quite a kick out of my doped up driving abilities.  They laughed so hard at me and I kept yelling, "Don't make me laugh!  It hurts!"  I'll admit, it was pretty funny.  Especially considering I was the girl who crashed my dad's riding lawn mower into the house.

We gathered up all the necessities, including that precious breast pump (there was no way and no need to get EVERYTHING), and we checked out.

Upon returning home, one of our AMAZING friends had left dinner on our porch.  My mom gathered it up and I cracked that pump open and started to brake it in.  At the hospital, I had begun and had been maintaining a 20 minute pump session every three hours and I wasn't about to quit.

The next day, Wednesday, was mom's last day with us.  That feeling a fear crept back just as it did when I left the hospital.  I didn't want her to leave.  How were we going to do it with out her?  Mom cooked for to stock the fridge and freezer.  She cleaned up my house.  And we talked. As we talked I relaxed.  I could do.  I would do it.  I had to do it.  And I had my husband there to do it with me.  We would do it together and again, I felt it, it would be OK.

On Thursday morning mom left.  Our wonderful neighbor and friend gave her a ride to the airport.  The day was filled with naps, mom's homemade food, tears, talking, and more tears.

Every day I called the NICU.  We shared and celebrated every little improvement.  I also talked to our social worker from the hospital.  She had put us on the waiting list for the Ronald McDonald House.  As soon as we got in, we could make the trip to Jackson and I could finally meet Gray.

So there I sat, in my recliner, hoping and praying and waiting.

The Road to Recovery

Recovery is hard.

Recovery can be a long process.

Longer than you imagine and you'd like sometimes.

When I finally came to, it was Sunday morning.

I remember being woken up to say good bye to Gray on Friday evening and I don't remember a thing after that.  On Saturday some friends visited, I was given a breast pump so I could begin pumping (I had made it clear before he was born that I wanted him to breastfeed), I signed a release form for Gray to get donor milk until we got down to Jackson to give him mine, and I took phone calls and text messages and I don't remember any of it.  I only know because I was told these things happened.

On Sunday morning I received another phone call.  It was my mom.  "Guess where I am."  She said.
"I don't know."  I replied unenthusiastically.
"I'm in Atlanta!  And I'll be by you in an hour."  She replied excitedly.
"OK."  I said not completely understanding.
"I gotta go," she said, "my plane is boarding.  I'll see you soon, love you!"
"Love you too!"  I replied and hung up.

I then turned to Shedrick and said, "She's coming here."
"Here?  Like Columbus?"  He said.
"Yep."  I answered.  "She's in Atlanta now."

A look of relief came over his face.  And after about an hour or two she arrived.  I was so happy to see her and Shedrick finally looked like he could relax.  We sat together talking.  Shedrick filled both me and my mom in on what happened and what was going on.  I had so many questions and I kept asking the same ones over and over because I couldn't remember the answers.

"Where is Gray?"  I asked.
"In Jackson."  Shedrick said.
"How far away is that?"  I wanted to know.
"About 3 hours."  He replied.
"When can we go see him?"
"As soon as you're ready Emma.  You have to get better first.  We're not even home yet."  He said.

We had been given the number to the NICU to call and get updates so I asked to call.  I had to ask Shedrick what our pass code was over and over again.  I decided I'd call once in the morning and once at night.  I'd ask for things like his weight, how his feeds were going, and if anything had been changed for the day.  I then asked Shedrick put the picture he took of Gray on my phone so I could look at it whenever I wanted.  He did and I stared at it.  I marveled at the fact that he was so tiny, yet so perfect.  And then I began to cry.

"What's wrong?" asked my mom.
"I'm just sad."  I said

Both my husband and my mother then proceeded to hug me from either side and tell me that it was OK.  It was OK that I was upset because things had not gone the way I had always imagined.  OK that I was frustrated because I had to ask quite frequently about things I know I had already asked and just couldn't remember.  OK that I felt empty because Gray was not with me anymore.  It was OK to hurt.  It was OK, because it would get better.  

Through out this whole process I was continuously checked on by the nurses.  They were amazing.  I wasn't allowed to get out of bed.  I had a cathider, IV's and blood pressure monitors constantly being checked.  I also got blood work done every day, sometimes twice a day.  They helped to manage my pain and checked my incision.

I was very scared to see my incision, but I looked anyways, I was going to have to look when I went home.  Shedrick didn't look.  He wouldn't look.  It bothered him too much.  My nurse peeled the bandages back and as she did and moaned in pain.  When she was finished I looked down where my cute, round pregnant belly used to be.  The incision wasn't as big as I thought it would be.  My belly was swollen and very bruised.  I was bruised from belly button to mid thigh.  My doctor came in he said everything was looking good.  My bruising was from two things: the fact that I had seizures and my muscles where very tightened and tense when I went into surgery and the hospital I was at now required a blood thinner to be given after every C-section to help prevent clotting, but made bruising very easy.  I then received new bandages and was left to rest.

Later that afternoon, our friends came to visit.  They brought me some magazines and toiletries, which were a godsend as I hadn't showered in like 5 days, and gifts for Gray.  They also took Shedrick with them when they left for the day and they made him a homemade dinner of lasagna (his fave) with lots of good conversation.  Our friends made us smile, made us happy, made us feel loved, and made a tough recovery a little bit easier.

Then my dinner came in and I wasn't hungry.  I was upset.  Everyone had left and that empty feeling crept back.  Mom told me to try to eat it but it was alright if I didn't want to eat right then.  My nurse then came in to check on me.

"How are things?"  She asked.
I hated that question.
As I lifted my tear-filled eyes, my mom answered, "She's alright, just a little upset and not very hungry."
"You know..." my nurse replied, "if you want to keep pumping all that milk for Gray you gotta eat."

After she left, I gobbled that meal.  I didn't want to eat.  But it was for Gray.  I wanted to keep making all that milk.  I needed to.

When Shedrick came back from supper he brought us some ice cream.  Amazing what a little treat can do for your spirits.  After we were finish Shedrick went home to get some good sleep and mom stayed with me.

Monday morning came, Shedrick was back, and I was going to have all tubes and wires (minus my IV and monitors) removed.  Then I'd be allowed to shower.  I have never been more excited to shower in my life.  5 days without a shower and I felt disgusting.  My nurse was going to help me and Shedrick had brought me some of my pajamas from home to put on when I was done.  I slid to the edge of my bed and managed to get my feet to the floor but the second I did a loud beeping began.

"They put an alarm on your bed?!"  My nurse said looking quite shocked.
"They have alarms on beds?"  I asked.
"Yep," she said, "but you wouldn't have been able to get up if you wanted to."

After she got the alarm turned off, I was helped to stand and proceed very, very slowly and painstakingly to the bathroom.  I sat on the stool in the shower and washed my hair and the nurse helped me to wash my incision and anywhere else I couldn't reach.  After having through the past week, I wasn't shy about it.

When I finished, I was exhausted, cold,  and I felt very weak.  We put my own, clean pajamas on and back to bed I went.  Mom braided my hair for me so it wouldn't get all snarly from laying in bed.  My IV was replaced and my blood pressure was taken, it was high again.  My doctor came in and told me I'd need medication and I'd continue to be monitored, however, I'd probably be able to go home the next day.  He said I NEEDED to take it easy.

That night we ordered out dinner together and celebrated my last night in the hospital.

On Tuesday morning, mom packed up all my things, Shedrick came back and began to load up the car, and my blood pressure was taken one last time.  It was high... again.  My nurse called my doctor in, as she was unsure if it was a bit too high.  They had me lie on my left side and take it again.  It dropped a bit.  And finally, I was given the OK.  Shedrick was given all my prescriptions: pain and blood pressure meds, vitamins, iron, and miralax.  I signed all my discharge papers, my monitors and my IV were unhooked, and I was helped out of bed, to a wheel chair.

The elevator ride seemed surreal.  Was I really going home?  I was kind of scared. I wouldn't have my awesome doctor and nurses to make sure I was OK.  We reached the ground level and as the big sliding glass doors opened I squinted in the sun light.  And then there they were, waiting by the car to help me, my mom and my husband, yes, it was going to be OK. 

Where Our Story Begins

It was Wednesday, March 7, 2012.  I was almost 29 weeks pregnant.  It was 4am and I was uncomfortable.  I got up, went to the bathroom, and went down to the kitchen to get something to eat.  After doing so my discomfort only got worse.  I thought I could have a bladder infection, or possibly a kidney infection, as I had pain in my belly and in my back in the kidney area.  I tried to relax and drink lots of water.  I told myself I'd give it some time and if things didn't improve I'd call my doctor's office when they opened.  After about 2 hours and no relief, I decided I'd try a hot shower.  At this point Shedrick was waking up.  He asked if I was OK and I responded that I was very uncomfortable and I was going to try a hot shower.  The hot shower didn't help either.  I started to feel worse.  The pain was getting worse and I knew something wasn't right.  I quickly finished up and got out.  After getting out, I realized Shedrick had already left for PT.  I got dressed and called the on-call doctor and told her what was going on.  She said it could be false labor but to be safe I should go to the emergency room.  I got my things together and tried to get a hold of Shedrick on his cell and at the gym.  No luck.  So I waited, pacing by the door for him to come home.

He finally came home after what seemed like forever and there I was by the door.

He looked at me concerned and said, "What's wrong?"
"We have to go to the hospital now."  I said.

He didn't hesitate.  He ran upstairs, didn't even change out of his sweaty PT clothes, washed his face, got his shoes and his wallet and we were on our way.  I filled him in on the way to the hospital.  We got to the emergency room, checked in, and waited.  Shedrick said he knew it was bad when he did an impersonation/joke that usually makes me laugh and I didn't.  They told me to sit, and I couldn't, the only thing that made me feel better was to pace and breath.  Finally they called my name.  We walked in, they asked me a few questions and then they took my blood pressure... 158/120-something (I was in pain, I don't remember exactly what they said).

They just looked at me and said, "You need to go up to labor and delivery now, your blood pressure is way too high!"

They put me in a wheel chair and up we went.

I was put in a room and told to change into a gown and climb in bed.  Within minutes I was surrounded by nurses and doctors.  They got an IV started, put a blood pressure cuff on my arm that automatically took a reading every 15 minutes, and put the monitor on my belly.  The second I heard that heartbeat and it was OK... I was able to relax a little.  Then a doctor checked my cervix.  It was tightly closed.  And based on the monitor I wasn't having contractions.  I started relaxing a little more.  However, I still had a lot of pain in my back and belly.

Then, my doctor walked in, looked at me and said, "With blood pressure that high, you're staying overnight."

They began a 24-hour urine analysis, pain medicine, and an ultrasound tech came in to check the baby.  My doctor told us they needed to see how big he was because high blood pressure in pregnancy can be life threatening to both mother and baby and in the worst case scenario we could have the baby early via c-section.  The ultra sound tech finished and said he looked great.  As a precaution, I was given 2 steroid shots to help baby's lungs develop in case they had to deliver.

After a while, I started feeling better.  I told Shedrick to call my mom at work to let her know what was going on.  I wasn't in as much pain anymore and my blood pressure had dropped a bit, but it was still high.  At that point I told Bee he could go home if he wanted.  He hadn't eaten or showered and it was past lunch time already.  He did, and he came back with snacks and books and magazines and hunkered down for a night in the hospital with me.  I was kept on all the monitors all day and night.  It was a rough night.  I had never stayed in a hospital before.  I was checked on every few hours, which didn't bother me, it actually made me feel better, but in the middle of the night I woke up and puked.   Luckily, I called the nurse and she made it to me just in time with a bag.  The commotion woke Shedrick and he got up to make sure I was OK.  After a little water I felt better and we went back to sleep to the sound of our little man's heartbeat.

The next morning, my doctor came back and told me I still had protein and enzymes in my urine and my blood pressure hadn't gone down enough to trust sending me home.  They ordered another urine analysis and I'd be staying another night.  Shedrick and I talked, read, and watched TV to pass the time.  And we were lulled to sleep again by our baby's heartbeat.

Friday morning came, and my doctor was back again.  He said, things were looking better and they were going to move me to a regular room and probably let me go home that afternoon.  I told Shedrick that he could go home and shower (since he hadn't the day before), eat, and get things together for us to go home.  I also told my doctor that I still had pain in my back near my kidney and asked about the possibility of kidney stones as they run in my family.  He called in a urologist and they did an ultrasound of my kidney.  There were no stones.  They did however see that my kidney was surrounded by sacs of fluid.  The urologist said that due to pressure from the baby and him knocking into my kidney these sacs had developed.  They were painful but otherwise harmless and would go away after delivery.

Shedrick left and then I got moved to a new room.  The doctors were trying to figure out how to manage the pain I had in my kidney and I was given a pain pill.  After that didn't help I was given some medicine in my IV and I was left alone.  I tried to relax and allow the medicine to kick in, it didn't, and I could feel something wasn't right.  I looked for my phone to call Shedrick, but it was jumbled up with the rest of my things from moving rooms and I couldn't get to it.  I started to get a really bad headache.  I had been told that if I got a headache I was to call the nurse immediately, so I did.  She came in and said it could be that the medicine hadn't taken effect yet.  I told her no, that wasn't it, I had had the medicine for the past two days and it had never done that.  During all this, my urologist had come in to discuss things with me.  The nurse then tried to take my blood pressure.  I was in pain and scared and I began to tremor, my hands and legs were shaking. She told me I had to calm down and breath.  I was trying but I couldn't.  The cuff just kept squeezing my arm tighter and tighter.

Finally very scared and upset, I pulled the cuff off and said, "This is hurting me. Something is wrong. I can't calm down."

The nurse then left to get my doctor and that's the last thing I remember.  The rest of the story is based on what I have been told.

When they came back to my room I was having a seizure.  They rushed me to labor and delivery.  When they got me to the OR I had another seizure.  The nurses had to hold me down. I was given general anesthesia and our precious, baby boy was delivered within minutes.  While all this was happening they called my husband.  They didn't tell him what had happened, they just told him he needed to get back to the hospital immediately.  Shedrick said he was nervous and hurried back to the hospital.

He went up to the room I had been in and when I wasn't there he ran out and found a nurse and said, "I'm looking for my wife, Emma, where is she?"
The nurse replied, "They didn't tell you did they?"

Shedrick said at that point he was really scared.

 "Tell me what?"  He replied.

At that moment my doctor came out.  "Your wife seized and we had to deliver the baby."  He said.

Shedrick began to cry.
I was then wheeled passed him, out of the OR.
"Can I see her?"  He asked.
"She needs to get set up in her room.  Come with me." Said my doctor.

He then lead him to the room where Gray was.  Shedrick said he looked surprisingly good for how small he was and how he came into this world.

"Does he have a name?" The doctor asked.

"Yes." said Shedrick.
"Gray Maynard Bridgeforth."

Gray Maynard was born on Friday, March 9, 2012 at 6:09pm by emergency C-section.  He weighed in at 2 pounds, 8 ounces, and 15 inches long.

The doctor's then brought Shedrick and Gray to my room.  I was not awake from surgery yet and with our son in his incubator beside me Shedrick said he felt like he'd been hit by a truck.  He hadn't expected things to be great, but he did not expect the worst case scenario, especially since we were talking about going home earlier that day.  Then they woke me up, and this is the only thing I remember.

My doctor was standing next to me holding my hand and he said to me, "You had a seizure. And we had to take your baby.  Look over you right shoulder, he's right there.  He's OK, but he's too little to keep at this hospital.  Reach in and say good bye."

And with tears running down my cheeks, I reached in his incubator and touched his little feet.  He squirmed and made a little noise, and I told him I loved him and I'd see him soon and Shedrick did the same.  Then I heard the helicopter and people in blue flight suits came in my room and wheeled him away.

I don't remember anything else from that afternoon/evening or the next day either.  I know my bottom lip hurt because apparently I chomped down on it during my seizure.  And I know my knees hurt too because during one of the seizures a nurse had to lay across them to hold me down.  I know I wrote on Facebook, sent texts, and even talked to people, but I don't remember, I just saw it on my phone/computer days later.  My doctors, nurses, and husband had to fill in the blanks for me.  That's been difficult for me.

Here are a few things I do know:

1) My doctors and nurses saved my life and my son's life.  How do you thank somebody for that?  If they hadn't been so cautious with me and had just sent me home... well, I don't even wanna think about or say what could've ended up happening.

2) My husband was always there for me and will always be there for me. Our love is so different now that we have a son and having been through all this. Its a stronger, deeper love and it continues to grow.

3) I have the best family in the whole world. No matter where we are or what's happening they'll always be there for us. I love them.

4) We have amazing friends. We've met awesome friends here and our friends back home have sent so much love. We are so touched by all they have done for us.

5) The military community we live and work in has shown us so much love and support, it really is a special thing to be a part of.

Gray's birth didn't happen anything like I had hoped and planned for but I'm learning to accept and love the way it did.