Jon and me in Room 4222 a week before Hannah was born
Now that Hannah is 6 months old, I feel like I can actually share some of the feelings that I had back when she was first born....it was a little too "raw" at the time for me to discuss without having an emotional meltdown. But, I figure that maybe my struggles can help someone else feel normal, so here goes. Back on February 4th I received an e-mail asking how I was doing....my (very good) friend pointed out that the blog was full of news about Hannah, but didn't mention anything about me, my feelings, or my health. Here was my response:
As for how I'm doing -- that has purposefully been left off the blog -- basically, just take every adjective to describe how someone could be doing, and that is me. I cry for no reason, I sob because I want a baby at home, I'm fine, I'm scared, I'm anxious, I'm tired, I'm happy Hannah is being cared for in a wonderful hospital by wonderful nurses, I'm angry, I wish I knew about donor milk sooner, I feel stupid that I didn't ask if I could hold Hannah the night she was born, I'm sore and won't/can't take medication, I hate my breastpump, I'm upset at myself for not being able to meet the goal (in weeks) that my doctor set for me, I know that I can't control this and that it isn't my fault, I hate that my daughter experiences pain and feel like it is only because I wasn't strong enough to carry her to term, I love that I can nourish Hannah with the pump, I thrive on the hour that I get to hold her each day, I'm grieving the normal pregnancy that I never got to have, I'm mad that I never got to wear the cute maternity clothes I got for work, I'm wishing I knew how to handle everything, I know that both of our lives were at risk during my pregnancy and that it is only by God's grace and perfect plan that we're both still alive, I love my daughter more than I thought possible, I'm upset that my shoulder is still bothering me & I'm spending $75 a week on massage to try to fix it because I can't lay flat due to bedrest, I don't want to talk to anyone, I yearn for someone to sit and talk to me, I love Jon and at the same time get mad at him about stupid stuff, I'm at peace with God in control, I'm struggling because I like to be in control, I'm wishing I prayed more......and Jon is just trying to deal with it all. He is bearing the brunt of my hormonal mood swings and is doing a good job at trying to keep me in some semblance of balance.
My whole hospital experience was very challenging. When I first went into the hospital it was very hard for me to accept and all I wanted to do was go home. Those 8 days weren't awful, but all I could think about was "when am I going home?" When I was finally able to go home for a few days at Christmas it made Jon nervous that something would happen....and when I had to go back to the hospital on December 26th Jon was actually relieved that I'd have nurses caring for me in case anything happened. I, on the other hand, saw it as a horrible loss of freedom and laid on my bed at home and cried before we left for the hospital because I knew I wouldn't be allowed to come home for months (and this is after I had waited until my doctor's office opened to call and see if some issues I had overnight warranted a check-up....let's just say the nurse who answered the phone was NOT happy with me).
Once I knew I was in the hospital for good, I had to make myself okay with it to survive. My nurses were all really nice and did everything they could to make my stay "enjoyable." The nurses assistants took me on wheelchair rides so I could get out of my room (I know Riverside like the back of my hand!) and always spent extra time when I needed it. I had tons of visitors from all over....but sometimes I needed time alone and I didn't know how to tell people to not come and visit (for fear that they wouldn't come when I wanted visitors). It was hard to tell what kind of a mood I'd be in from one day to the next (even from morning to night), so planning for guests was difficult. Sometimes I think I could have grown more as a person if I had more time to myself, but sometimes I think I would have been really depressed without the contact and connections with other people.
My cousin got me a Nintendo game "Big Brain Academy" that I used to quiz myself and make sure that I could still think...I refused to watch TV during the day (except when hooked up to fetal monitors because I had to lay still for an hour each time) because I was afraid of turning my "mind to mush" (as my Dad used to say)...I read books....I worked on a cross stitch project that I first started in 1994 and hadn't finished....and played on the Internet. I was surprised at how I was able to fill my days. For the most part I was positive about my stay. I had ultrasounds every few weeks to make sure things were still going well, and the doctors in my practice checked in on me every day (and let me just say that I love all 6 of them...not just "my" doctor...they are fantastic!). But there were days where I'd sit in my bathroom and be totally upset with the fact that I couldn't even stand up to take a shower...and that I had to take a break after drying off before I could get dressed because I was too worn out...it's so frustrating to be an active person and to be reduced to dressing in stages because you're too tired or light-headed to dress yourself.
The night my water broke I'd had a mini-breakdown after brushing my teeth. I was crying in the bathroom for quite some time wondering if I'd really have the strength to go another 6 weeks in the hospital (my doctor had already told me he was planning on taking the baby at 36 weeks if I made it that long) and why this all happened to me. I was so frustrated with everything. Then, when my water broke a few hours later I was racked with incredible guilt -- that my inability to be strong in the situation had put my baby at harm...there was certainly nothing easy about the situation. Of course Jon tried to comfort me and tell me that wasn't the case, but hormonal pregnant women are a force to be reckoned with.
My wonderful cousin Susan made it to my delivery and stayed with me in the hospital to help take care of me. I can't say enough about how she helped me cope. Hannah was born on a Monday night and it was 2am before we got to bed. Susan spent most of Tuesday helping me shower and dress and get to the NICU....oh, and learn to pump.... Susan ran my 1st mL of colostrum that I got down to the NICU even though the nurses on the maternity ward said it really wasn't enough to save and spent the whole day cheering me on and doing all she could to make me comfortable (including screening all of my phone calls and re-scheduling my hairstylist who was planning to come to the hospital to give me a cut before my baby shower).
On Wednesday, I went to the breastfeeding class the hospital gives every day and the lactation consultant running the class kept asking the moms if they'd noticed this or that about their babies...I lost it walking back to my room. Susan spent most of Wednesday trying to comfort me. I was supposed to check-out at noon....and I discovered that if you're not in your room, they can't check you out....I think I left at 8pm that night. Boy was it hard to leave that hospital. After thinking about leaving for weeks, the thought never entered my mind that I'd leave without my baby. I felt like my heart was being ripped from my body...I cried saying goodbye to her, I cried getting in the car, and I sobbed through an entire pack of tissues until they disintegrated onto the floor of Susan's car. I was totally unprepared for all of that.
Over time, leaving the hospital got "easier" but there were still days that I'd cry when leaving for no reason. Jon and I fought a lot about my need to be there all of the time. For some crazy reason, he thought that I needed to rest and recover....but all I wanted to do was sit by her incubator. I reasoned with him that I was resting there by taking a nap in the recliner in her room...and that I'd rest when I was holding her....we went round and round on that, but he finally gave up and just tried to get me to rest when he could. I had to get up to pump every 3 hours at night when we were home, so he took care of the cleaning and storing so all I had to do was pump and go back to sleep. I don't think he slept much at all. We have favorite foods at the hospital cafeteria....we know the attendants in the "blue lot" parking by name....we were at the hospital every day until she came home.
The hospital stay for me and Hannah was very challenging - not just for me, but for Jon too (and our marriage). Lots of people asked how I was doing and how the baby was doing, but very few people asked about Jon....and he struggled with worrying about us, trying to run our household, working, and spending all of his spare time at the hospital. It wasn't easy for him either, especially since he was the "backbone" holding our family together the whole time. The whole situation was very challenging and if I'm honest about it, I have to say that we're still rebuilding our relationship because it really took a back-burner to everything else. Long hospital stays, pregnancy complications, and a preemie are really stressful. Hopefully this will be a situation that we use to grow in our faith, as a family, and with each other.....and hopefully we won't go through something like this "next time."
I'm A Cutie Pie!!
The 11 Kids
On Saturday afternoon we went to the pool...Hannah is still too little for sun, sunscreen, or the pool, so she just sat with Mommy in the shade for a little while and then spent the rest of the day indoors. Daddy went swimming with the "boys" and kids and had a good time. 
