My First Niece

Paul was back at work today. It was a nice one-day trial, and I'm glad that he'll be home Thursday and Friday, then his mom will be here for a couple of weeks. I can defintely go it alone with the two girls, but it's not exactly easy. Especially when I'm about a week post-partum, still feeling sore, and running a touch of a fever.

Ellie, Paul, and I all have colds. I'm the only one with a fever. I'm also sleeping very little and recovering from childbirth; perhaps these things are related. Ellie's been very weepy and needy, though still very attached to Adelaide so it might just be her cold. She melts down whenever Adelaide cries, which is touching.

But today I'm sharing someone else's story, not my own.

My sister's daughter was born one day after Adelaide, on her wedding anniversary. Middlesis wanted a natural birth experience, and read all about self hypnosis and The Bradley Method. Since her brain tumor experience several years ago, she's been concerned about her body's ability to bear children, and motherhood has always been her number one goal in this life.

She was due 5 days after me, which means that she too was overdue when her water suddenly broke late the evening I gave birth to Ada. So Middlesis and her husband headed off for the hospital. My mom had already left me in the recovery room to head north, so she got there in the middle of the night, as Middlesis was laboring.

Things didn't progress quickly, so she ended up with a pitocin drip. She was displeased with this, but much more than displeased when she was examining the IV stand between contractions and noticed that they were giving her a narcotic along with the pitocin. Without even telling her, let alone asking her permission! This proved to be a telling sign of the care she was to get at this hospital, the only one covered by her medical insurance.

Eventually, the pitocin contractions were too much for any of her coping strategies, and Middlesis got an epidural. Things were wonderful for a while, and the nurses kept ramping up the pitocin. Then the epidural stopped working. The pit was at 18 whatevers per whatever, then the nurse bumped it up to 20 despite my sister's obvious agony and the clear fact that the epidural was no longer effective. (20 whatevers per whatever, I'm told, is the maximum usual dosage for a pitocin IV.)

My mother said that seeing two of her daughters in such agony so soon after one another was very very difficult for her.

During a routine vitals check, Middlesis learned that she was running a fever, despite the antibiotics she'd been given. (My theory is that the fever had something to do with her body's response to the extreme pain she was in.) That was the final straw; these people didn't want to try a vaginal delivery "with her history" anyway, even though her neurosurgeon signed off on the idea. C-section time.

She prepared herself mentally. And she got bumped for a sicker baby. Again. Again. Finally, shortly before midnight, 24 hours after her water broke, my sister delivered a healthy, hearty baby girl. 9 pounds, 20 inches, and thighs like she could kick a field goal, according to my father (who was also there in time for the birth).

48 hours later, they decided to send her home. She talked them into letting her stay the night (!) then went home just over two days after giving birth rather traumatically. (There's more to the story, including the fact that she got stuck with the same nurse anesthetist for her surgery as for the failed epidural, but I'll leave out some of the infuriating details.)

At home, the baby never slept, cried all the time, and breastfed contstantly. At her 5 day check-up, the pediatrician was concerned about her weight loss and sent them back to the hospital. Where the baby became hard to rouse and was found to be quite dehydrated with low sodium. And she ended up in pediatric ICU, receiving fluids and other care.

Finally, finally, finally, in the PICU Middlesis found good doctors and nursing care that she could trust. And a really good lactation consultant. The baby is doing well now, and they expect to go home tomorrow.

Yes, I had a rough first day home alone with both girls. But I'm glad that my mother is with my sister right now; she needs more help. I just wish that I could be there too.