It's a funny title but that is what I yelled through the house when I finally was able to have a BM. OH the pain. It was like giving birth all over again. I felt ripping and stinging and burning and that hot knife again. I rinsed with that stupid Peri bottle again (it quickly became my nemesis) and used the tucks pads. I think I had ice on the incision for days on end until this point.
After this (painfully) successful movement, I took a long, hot shower. The heat of the water made my milk let down really fast and shoot all over the place. This was the first time I noticed my milk actually "come in". It made me laugh... I was a fem bot... a milk shooting fem bot.
Michelle and Alicia had to leave after only being here for a couple of days. It was really hard to let her leave, we had a tearful goodbye. Michelle didn't want to leave her "turtle". Dad and Sara were still here for a few more days, so we had some help.
Boy did we need it.
After I got out of the shower, I thought it would be a good idea to take a look at my "vaganus" wound. I grabbed a hand mirror, a flashlight and awkwardly stood over the toilet to see. I saw the incision, and it was leaking. Not just a little fluid, it was leaking stool. You know that feeling when you are a little kid and you can't find your mom in the grocery store and you think the world is over and you don't know what to do? I PANICKED. Full on Flipped the F out.
I yelled for John to come into the bathroom, I was shaking hysterically and sobbing... "It's leaking, It's leaking!" He wanted me to show him, I was embarrassed, but I let him see. He tried to calm me down and told me to get dressed and that we were going to the ER.
John loaded Johnny up and told Sara and Dad what was going on while I got myself as ready as I could without passing out. We went to Ft. Belvoir, the military hospital where I delivered, which was about a 40 minute drive. Usually it is a first come, first serve to be seen situation, but the fact that I couldn't sit down, couldn't stand up, was crying and shaking made them treat me differently. They hurried me into a private room and took my vitals. I changed into a hospital gown. Johnny cried, milk sprayed everywhere and the gown got soaked. The Dr came in, we explained what was happening, he gave me some pain medicine and told me he would get a specialist, because he honestly didn't know what he was looking at. Great.
Enter, Dr. James. Oyekan. The most insanely beautiful, deliciously dark skinned, 6.6 foot tall man. (Sorry honey, had to add drama, You are still WAAAAAY more handsome! Did I mention that I love you so so so much and you are the best husband and daddy ever?)
I am supposed to show this hot Dr. my vagina that is leaking poop? In a Milk soaked hospital gown. With my mascara smeared all over my face. I think this is about the moment when what little bit of modesty I had remaining went right out the door. (You lose a lot of it during labor, a LOT.... but I had a little bit left! Not any more. Gone.) He looked and confirmed that it was indeed stool. My incision was opening and needed to be repaired. He didn't have time that day. (He was the only Urogynocologist at the hospital that specialized in vaginal reconstruction) He packed the wound with gauze, showed me how to keep it clean (Peri bottle FU) and booked me for surgery the next day.
Back to my blue font. You get the idea with the brown. I was told not to eat or drink after midnight and to arrive at 8:30 am the next morning. Surgery was scheduled for 2:00 pm. A nursing mother is already always hungry and thirsty. I was famished. I was developing a migraine and It was almost impossible to sit still. Dad and Sara, John and Johnny were all with me in the pre-op waiting area. Finally, around 5:00, they told me they were ready for me.
Everyone came back with me. I had to get changed into a hospital gown, get an iv and lay on a gurney until the OR was ready for me. I begged for some anxiety medicine. The anesthesiologist came to do paperwork with me and explained that I would need to "pump and dump" for 24 hours, because it was not safe to breast feed right after surgery. Cue: MELT DOWN #2. I had JUST established my milk supply. I had none reserved. I had none to give him while I was dumping... I was PISSED. John was Pissed. Johnny was Pissed...... actually I think he was hungry, so I nursed him once more before surgery and John and I decided with Dr. Oyekan's approval that I would just receive a Spinal Tap and go into twilight sleep rather than go under. Essentially, an epidural and some laughing gas. The anesthesiologist came to introduce me to the woman who would be placing my epidural, it was none other than.... the STUDENT who screwed mine up during labor. I politely told her I wasn't allowing any student to touch me. The anesthesiologist seemed offended but I couldn't have given a crap.
They wheeled me into the OR. It was bright and cold, and it smelled like antiseptic. I can actually still smell it thinking about it. Oddly enough it doesn't give me anxiety thinking of the OR. Someone placed my epidural into my spine, I lay back and they put an oxygen mask on me. They put several warm blankets on me and I was actually very comfortable. The warmth of the epidural spread to my toes and I was finally pain free. The next thing I remember is waking up with John sitting next to me and it was dark. We were in the recovery area. They were letting the spinal tap wear off a bit so that I could walk. The nurse to my right was explaining all of the new medications to me, some Motrin, some dilauded, some antibiotic. Surgery took something like 3 hours.
As soon as I was able to somewhat stand up, they released us and we went home. John and Sara tried to get me comfortable in bed and Dad went to sleep. Johnny was sleeping too. I think I might have slept for about 2 hours or so. I woke up around 1 am in so much pain I couldn't lay still. I was writhing and kicking and rolling around. I felt like I was going to die. I begged John to take me to the ER for pain control.
Sara and John took me to Potomac Hospital because it was nearest. Same thing, I was rushed back to a room because of the state I arrived in. I explained that I had an outpatient surgery and told them my Dr.'s name and phone number. They looked at the wound and were instructed by Dr. O to give me pain medicine and make me comfortable enough to get me through the night. We spent most of the night there. John was too tired to drive us home so Sara did. Dr. O. followed up with us the next day, I believe it was a weekend and he was going to be out for a few days and he wanted to make sure we had everything we needed.
A few days went by. I was in a medicated haze. I was trying to stay ahead of the pain. I couldn't handle another episode like that. It wasn't possible. Was it? I became very constipated from the medicine. This was a new nightmare. I was in constant contact with Dr. O through text messaging. He recommended Mira lax. Next he recommended Milk of Magnesia. There was one other that he guaranteed would produce a bowel movement, I can't remember the name, it didn't work either. He said, Have your husband give you an enema. I repeat. "HAVE YOUR HUSBAND GIVE YOU AN ENEMA" Oh. my. god. So that's what we did.
John gave me an enema and I finally had relief from the pressure in my guts. After the enema, I felt a rip. I did the acrobatic mirror pose again, and cried out in absolute horror and panic "I CAN NOT GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN. I AM GOING TO DIE"
My incision was tearing open all over again.
to be continued......
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