This entry is being written to the best of my ability from memory 8 days later.
This morning, I woke up sad. I miss my boys and want to meet them. I miss Skip and I miss Calista. I’m lonely, and I am in pain. I realize no one has sent me flowers like they did when Calista was born. I’m sure it’s because they had hoped I’d leave right away and get down to Seattle, but it’s just one more thing to bring me down at the moment. I am stressed out by the phone calls as the phone in my room seems to ring constantly, and there’s always a nurse trying to do something to me while people are trying to call. I want to be left alone from the calls and questions that I don’t have answers to, like who do the babies look lie? and how long were they are birth?
I call Skip early and I think I woke him up. I’m trying to tell him how I feel and I’m sobbing hysterically. I don’t want to be stuck in a bed looking at pictures of babies I don’t recognize. I cry when I see pictures and I don’t know which baby I am looking at. I want to see, hold and get to know my sons and I can’t. I want to be with my family and I can’t. Everything — physically and mentally — is hurting.
After talking to Skip, I call my mom. I sobbed and told her how miserable I am and have used an entire box of Kleenex by the time I am done speaking her Skip and her.
I try to send a text message from my phone to my friend Jessie. After spending a few grueling minutes typing, I accidentally hit send before the first sentence is done. I am so frustrated that I decide to just call her, and despite my best efforts, I lose it while talking to her and again dissolve into tears.
I feel so helpless.
Flowers arrive from my mother-in-law later that day to try to lift my spirits and Lindsay brings Calista by before they head to Seattle to meet the babies. They, too, bring me flowers from Skip and Calista. It does brighten my mood a bit, but not as much as seeing my sweet girl.
Lindsay snaps a few photos of Calista and I and they head down for my big girl to meet her brothers.
Calista and Mommy
Calista seeing Nate for the first time
Calista seeing Ace for the first time
Later, a nurse comes to get me to start trying to stand up. I get partway up but it hurts so much I have to lay back down. Another nurse tries again later. She is pulling me to my feet and I am crying that I can’t, it hurts so badly. She says, “But you’re on Percoset!” as if there is something wrong with me, as I fight her to let me lay back down. I am crying, repeating, “I can’t do it. I can’t do it…” She leaves me to lay back in bed.
By evening, I am contracting again and feel as if it’s Friday night over again. The pain makes me cry, which causes more pain, which causes more contractions. I’m near hysterics and the doctor is called in. my incision seems to be seeping and Dr. K thinks I might have some clotting or something interfering with my healing.
She takes a swab and tries to gently open the edge of my incision to let the oozing out. It hurts so badly that I beg her to stop. She gives me the option to let her try to gently open it with the swab, wait until morning to see what happens or let her re-open the incision to see what the problem is. I can’t bear to let her try to open the edge of the incision with the swab again, and am in too much pain to wait until morning. I sign the consent for surgery.
Soon, I am asleep in the OR and when I awake, Skip and Calista are by my side and I am groggy. The second surgery is done, and now I have staples in my belly to keep the incision closed. I’m too out of it to know what happened during the surgery and fall asleep for the night.
Let the recovery begin again.
