One Project Finished

May and June comprised one of the busiest periods I’ve had in a long while.  As my BSN program drew to close and deadlines ticked down, I found myself running around completing a sixty-five hour practicum class that involved setting up and then interviewing community leaders on my chosen topic as well as doing the research for my classes to prepare for papers.  June finished out with an absolute orgy of writing as I wrote three major capstone projects totaling over seventy pages.  It was, to say the least, completely exhausting.

However, it was also rewarding as I got the notice on Monday that my final paper passed and my advisor recommended me to receive my diploma!

When I decided to go for the BSN, I initially rolled my eyes a little.  I already have a BA (in English) and I figured this degree would be more of the same.  However, with more and more push for RNs working in hospital settings to have BSNs, I knew I needed to go ahead and get the degree.  Otherwise, I risked a situation where, if I ever found a position I wanted to pursue in another hospital system or my system changed rules or ownership, I might find myself either unable to apply for a different position or told that I needed to complete the BSN within a certain number of years.

I was surprised at how much I learned.  While I definitely had a head start since my degree in English had taught me a good bit about research and writing, in my new coursework, I learned how to really evaluate scientific research.  I also learned about statistics and worked through the steps of problem-solving in a nursing setting.

In short, I know I’m better at what I do thanks to earning this degree.  Eventually, when I’m ready, it will also set me up much better to complete masters’ level coursework.

At this point, I’m looking forward to catching up with reading blogs, commenting, and writing here a bit more often.  I’m hoping to watch the documentary “Vegas Baby” about the Sh.er Inst.itutes IVF contest when it comes to Net.flix and read Belle Boggs’ The Art of Waiting.  I recently finished Kate Hopper’s memoir Ready for Air about the premature birth of her daughter and D. Knight Smith’s Letters to Ellie.  I’ve been thinking about infertility and NICU quite a bit.  It’s as though suddenly I’m really starting to process some parts of the experience that perhaps I couldn’t when I was going through them.

Bittersweet

When E was about six months old, I organized and decorated her room.  It was, literally, the only room in the house at that time I’d managed to do anything in remotely resembling organization.  The whole project had gotten kicked off with me wailing at Arthur one day about how I “hadn’t even gotten to put together the nursery” before I’d gone into the hospital and then had been too busy in NICU to even try to deal with it.  From there, we’d had oxygen equipment for months (even after E had stopped needing oxygen, our doctors had us keep the equipment a bit longer just in case) and needed a place to put the apnea monitor.  All this meant that the room was beautifully arranged to fit the monitor and oxygen equipment, but not really optimally for living without them.  We’d recently gotten rid of both the oxygen compressor and the apnea monitor, but the room was, like the rest of the house, a mess.

To placate me, Arthur told me that I should let the rest of the house go for the time being and see if I could work up a way to make E’s room nice.  He’d help with as much as he could and also with the lifting/arranging of furniture.  We decided to make a little bit of room in our budget to get a few things to decorate the room as well.

One day, I found a neat collage frame at a store.  It held six photos, organized around a central photo.  It was a little more expensive than we wanted, but I couldn’t resist.  I bought it and eventually put a photo of E in the center with a picture of us, one of my parents, one of Arthur’s family, one of the twin cousins once they were born, and one of my brother and his girlfriend in the outside frames.  It’s one of my favorite parts of E’s room.

As E has learned to talk and recognize people, Arthur started explaining who the people were in the frames when he was getting E dressed in the mornings.  Or so I found out when E startled me one morning by pointing up at the picture of my brother and announcing, “Unca E-!”

It wasn’t that I minded at all, in fact, it was lovely and I am really glad that Arthur is teaching E who the people in the frames are to her.  It was more that I wasn’t expecting it and it took me off guard for a moment.  I treasured the moment and didn’t think about it again for awhile.

A few weeks ago, I got some photos from my mother that I asked her for and downloaded from her phone, a whole mishmash starting at the beginning of E’s life.  As I was going through them, I found one that made me stop and stare, one I hadn’t been entirely certain existed.  E was born about seven months before my brother died.  He saw her once in NICU and then once in September of 2015.  Only during that September visit did he get to hold her.  At the time, it didn’t seem extremely noteworthy.  I didn’t know if anyone had snapped a photo.

There it was, though.  E hurried over, took one look at the photo and went “Unca E-“.  She made me go back to the photo several times as I scrolled through the folder, even trying to use the touchscreen on my laptop to go back to look at it anytime I’d try to move forward.

It was beautiful and so, so d*mn sad at the same time.

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Arrival

Content note: birth, pregnancy.  If you’re not in the place, take care of yourself and skip this one.

In the end, the birth was noteworthy simply for its ordinariness.  I attended my last uneventful prenatal appointments, packed my bag, and rode the elevator to the third floor of the hospital on the morning of my scheduled c-section.  Even getting my IV in was drama-free, as despite my twisty, valve-covered, rolling veins, the nurse got it in on the first try.

The only slight hiccup was that after weeks of perfectly fine weather, the region had gotten blanketed in a coating of snowy, icy last-bit-of winter precipitation the day before I was scheduled to be at the hospital at 5:30 in the morning.  After a little bit of debate, Arthur and I opted to check into a hotel across the street from the hospital, even though we only live about twenty minutes away from where I was set to deliver.  There’s one stretch of road that tends to get really ugly, and neither of us wanted to be rushing or worried that morning.  It turned out to be a good thought, as the roads were slippery and my mother-in-law told us later that E had woken up three times in the night.  As it was, we got a good night’s sleep and an easy start to the day.

I walked into the OR on the early side to get my spinal started.  The scrub tech had the Beatles playing on the sound system, so I sat on the table hunched over listening to “Yellow Submarine” as I felt the sting of the local, then some pressure.  It took two tries to get the spinal in, but before I knew it, I felt the familiar tingling as my legs started to go numb.  Quickly, the staff had me on the table, the drape in place, and were bringing Arthur into the OR to start.

Despite knowing the anesthesiologist and knowing that spinals are typically pretty effective, I’m terrifically paranoid that the block won’t work and I’ll feel everything.  This was no exception.  “Don’t do anything until I’m numb,” I said.

“Can you feel this?” asked the scrub tech.

“I felt some pressure.”

“Trust me, if you’d felt anything real, you’d be swearing at me by now.  I just pinched you with an instrument very hard.”

“Oh,” I said.  I was having a weird feeling, an almost overpowering thirst combined with nausea.  I almost asked someone to get me something to drink, even though I knew I couldn’t have anything.  All of a sudden, the anesthesiologist told me to take a deep breath, there was going to be a lot of pressure.  I felt the hard push, heard my OB call “wait, wait!”  Then my OB instructed the staff to drop the drape a bit.

And there she was.

Tinier than I’d expected, with a cap of downy, dark hair, taking her first halting breath.

They took her over to the warmer, and then I heard her first outraged wails at being born into this cold, bright world.  Arthur went over to see her, and within moments, the staff brought her to me.  Arthur held her as I stared at her beautiful, tiny face.  “It’s a good thing you didn’t try to labor,” my OB remarked.  “The cord was wrapped around her neck three times.  I think you would probably have ended up in a c-section no matter what.”  That was what the “wait, wait” had been about: getting the cord unwrapped safely.  My OB finished closing me up, the anesthesiologist put in a TAP block (to block the nerves in my abdomen to prevent incisional pain), and before I knew it, I was in recovery.

Arthur placed the baby on my chest.  So very, very normal and every day for a birth, but so new to me.  I couldn’t hold E until five days after she was born.  This felt like the most extraordinary of miracles as I stared down at the sleepy baby.

We named her M (like this actress, though we picked out the name long before the actress was in the news) and gave her middle name after my late brother (the female version of this first name).  E came that afternoon with my mother-in-law and stared down at her new sister.  “Keep, keep,” she told us as she patted the baby, staring into the bassinette.

There was no NICU stay.  No incubator.  No restrictions on when we could hold her or touch her or kiss her.  No daily wondering if this would be “the day” we got the call that something had happened.  M came home with me and we placed her in the cradle that Arthur’s great-grandfather made for Arthur’s birth.  M latched on immediately and I’ve been able to nurse her.

We are all doing well.  The block after this c-section made a great deal of difference, and I didn’t need much help with pain.  Not being on various forms of bed rest for 18.5 weeks prior to delivery has helped me get moving faster and heal better.

It was, truly, everything I hoped for when we saw the second line in July.  I don’t know how it happened, but I am grateful.  Beyond grateful.

Born March 14, 2017 at 8:10 am.  7lbs, 9oz and 20.5 inches long.