The Grand Finale

I have been putting off writing for some time simply because I am unsure of where to begin. It has been 6 1/2 months since our precious little addition was born and that is a lot of ground to cover. I have considered fast forwarding that time to the present and just moving on from here, but I feel like I need to lay to rest the situation you were following. Therefore, I will be reminiscing D-day today. So sit back with a cup of coffee… or maybe just skip ahead to the next post ;)

Jonathan and I left the kids on a Wednesday morning, stopped by RIH for my second steroid shot (OUCH!) and off we went, bound for Vancouver yet again (have I mentioned how thrilled I am that those trips are behind us?!?!?!). We arrived Wednesday night, got settled into our new "home" for the next little while and had a restless night. Thursday was prep day. We had to be at the hospital at 8am to find out where we would be going, to do the preparatory bloodwork, non-stress tests, etc. Once that was done, we had the rest of the day to walk around and managed to get in some pre-black friday deals at staples and old navy. Some retail therapy helped us keep our minds off the next morning and Jonathan had fun pushing me around in the wheelchair. But alas, the next day was soon approaching. So we had dinner before my fasting began, I made "if I die" letters for my kids, anointed with tear drops each one, and we tried to sleep.

It was an early morning, we had to be at the hospital at 7am for surgery, and I needed to use this special pre-surgical scrub. Determined not to look like a total hag, I did my hair all nice and we were ready to go. They brought me by myself to a prep room with about 6 other people in it. Here I waited for a while in my breezy little gown. Shivering as much from nerves as from the cold. Dreading what was to come and wishing Jonathan was there with me. I met my main anaesthesiologist, a student in her last year. She was so kind and understanding and spent a good 20 minutes just getting to know me as she began her preparations. (I had 2 other anaesthesiologists that were in the room BTW, so it wasn't just a student, she just had primary care of me). They started 2 IV's, which took some time, some hot packs, and some coaxing as my veins had shrivelled up in a state of wary protest. Jonathan joined me for the last 10 minutes and then we were separated once again as I was taken to the OR to begin the rest of the preparations. I was taken to a huge OR that was FILLED with equipment. There was at least 12 people in the room from nurses to the paediatrician, to the three anaesthesiologists, to the doctors, to the students, to the interventional radiologists, to the ultrasound technicians, etc. etc. etc. There were lights and carmeras and I was ready for action. Have you ever lain on a table shivering, cold, scared out of your whits, losing all facade of modesty, with cameras aimed on you at EVERY angle (yes, even the most awkward of ones), lights blaring? My arms were held down on each side as someone tried to get in an arterial line. This took about 10 separate attempts. They froze me first but HOLY SMOKES that hurt. Digging, trying, failing, bleeding, pressure pressure pressure, and try again. Meanwhile, down at my lower half, interventional radiology was having the opposite problem with my arteries in my groin. He was trying to insert balloons through my arteries there that would thread into the main arteries on either side of my uterus to cut off blood supply while they worked. Instead of the ten minutes we were advised, this took over an hour. They had to share ultrasound with the vexed anaesthesiologists poking and prodding my arms to try to find the right arteries, as my veins were so big he was putting it in the wrong area. More ultrasounds, x-rays, and jiggling needles later and I was strung like a bow. with tubes in my back (epidural), legs, both my arms, and FINALLY the production could begin.

Jonathan was called in, my stomach was swabbed with iodine, and I waited in total horror while they started cutting. Worst thing EVER. Hoping that the epidural is going to work well. *insert shudder*

Once it was started it wasn't so bad, it only took about 5 minutes until our screaming little peanut was out, and now the real work could begin. As soon as she was out, about 4 of my "attendants" dropped off to deal with her and everyone else got pretty serious. I hate how no one talks to you. I was trying to find out about the baby but they were trying to inflate the balloons, deal with anaesthesia as I was pretty uncomfortable, and try to remove the placenta as gently as they could. Within about two minutes, it was clear something was wrong from the tone of their voices. I was listening intently to what I could make out over the curtain, and it didn't sound good. Sure enough, a small portion of my placenta was attached and would not release. It was turning my entire uterus inside out in its attempt to expel it. I heard "what is happening? What is it doing?!!!!"and then my doctor popped her head over and said "ya, we're going to have to do the hysterectomy Rebecca". and that was that. Jonathan came over to say goodbye, I cried, and then asked them to put me out under GA so I wouldn't have to be awake for the rest. I woke up around noon in recovery, with the interventional radiologist coming to remove the balloons and put pressure, for 20 minutes! on the arteries so they wouldn't bleed.

All in all, I needed no blood which was a miracle in itself. In the end I was just happy to be alive, I had had my doubts. The worst was over, we had a healthy baby, and I couldn't be more thrilled. (fast forward to when the epidural wore off and it was a different tune I was singing ;) 

Now I look back on it all with a kind of resigned acceptance. I was, and still am if I admit it, pretty angry that it came to that. I question whether we should have tried to leave it in and see what would have happened. Then I remind myself my uterus was turning inside out, it probably would have been impossible to leave it in, but it doesn't stop the war in my mind. I know that 90 percent of you won't understand. You will look at my brood of 5 kids and think I am crazy for the fact that I am sad about it. But I wanted more, and I can say that once the baby high wore off, I have been pretty devastated by the surgery and I am still working through my "loss". As ridiculous as that may sound. 

So now, 6 1/2 months later, people ask me if we are done, and I finally have an answer. We are done. Our little family is complete. We may consider adoption down the road, but for now, we are just adjusting to the chaos that is 5. God has been so good to us. I am so thankful that we found out about this long before she was born so we could prepare ourselves both physically and mentally for what was to come. I am so thankful that I came home 10 days later with my healthy daughter. I feel totally normal and recovered now, though it was a long painful haul. And we are moving on with our life as a family of 7.

Im hoping to start writing again, especially in the fall once we are more into a routine. And now that this drama is behind us, it will hopefully resume its simple hilarity of everyday life. 

In other related news, I have been asked to head up an accreta awareness blood drive. This condition is so incredibly rare, but because of this, women often die. It is just not caught. Unlike my situation where we were prepared, we had blood there, a stocked OR, balloons in my arteries, etc. etc. A lot of women don't find out until it is too late. I had accreta with Aliyah, and I nearly died because we didn't know about it. I had increta with Janiah and we were prepared. As rare as the condition is, it is becoming more common due to the rising amount of C-sections (your risks increase after c-sections because the placenta adheres more tightly to the scar tissue). So I will be sharing my stories and heading up a blood drive on January 9, 2015 and I am pretty excited to be doing something so near and dear to my heart. So stay tuned for more details.