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.