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In my last post to you, dear reader, I announced the arrival of our precious, Marcus Cole Johnson, who arrived at 2056 on 6 May 2005. He weighed in at a whopping 10lb 15oz, and measured 21.5 inches in length.
However, what was not told were the whole circumstances and incidents that led to his arrival.
The story will now be told.
(Written on 7-8 May 2005)
For Colleen, the story starts with her normal OB appointment at 1115. There had been the worries about her protein levels, which were tagged at “minimally elevated,” as a warning sign of toxemia or pre-eclampsia. She had been in for a few hours during the previous week on a second non-stress test, and had been in for an appointment earlier in the week. A blood test followed by a urine test showed that her protein levels were indeed, as they had put it, “minimally elevated,” hence her admittance into the Women and Infant Care Center here at St Vincent’s Hospital at Worcester Medical Center.
I come into the story soon after 1400, as she tries to reach me through several attempts on my mobile. I couldn’t answer because I was on the phone with a customer. I was also the only one on the phones that day, as my colleague in Customer Support had left earlier on in the day, going home sick. So my mobile rings, and it’s Colleen.
(Note: this conversation is not verbatim, as I do not remember it word for word. However, you will get the gist of what was said.)
C: "How soon can you get here?"
A: "Why, what’s up?"
C: “They have me admitted, with a C-section scheduled for 1630.”
Needless to say, I did say that I would be there faster than ASAP. I informed everyone of what was going on, and within three minutes of me hanging up, I was pulling out of the driveway. I was already on the phone with Colleen’s parents before I had even hit the car, and I followed that call with one to my parents, briefing them of what was going on.
I stopped at home, grabbed Colleen’s hospital bag, finished packing mine, grabbed a few incidentals, and after fifteen minutes of pulling into the driveway, I was back out on the road for the typically-five minute drive to Medical Center.
I arrived around 1545, and found that Colleen was placed in one of the Labor and Delivery Rooms. Needless to say, she was very nervous about what was about to happen.
What didn’t help was the news that the anesthetist was severely backed up with ore urgent cases, and since ours was not considered to be an emergency, we were placed on the backlist. They were hoping to have us in the OR around 1900.
More news: our OB, Dr Nason, wasn’t going to be doing the surgery that night. However, Colleen had already met the OB, Dr Pezzella, who would be, and said that she was very nice and a very good doctor. (How true those words would turn out to be, and in retrospect, an understatement. But that’s still to come.)
Further news: due to the massive backup, there wouldn’t be a surgery on Friday night, but it would go down first thing Saturday morning. I had already planned on staying overnight anyway, so this was no big deal, really.
So we settle in. My parents had already been waiting in the lovely atrium all this time, and had already bought me a chicken sandwich for dinner from the cafeteria, but it was tough, dry, and inedible. So they bought us sandwiches from Garden Fresh in the food court in the hospital (which also has a pizza place and the ubiquitous Dunkin Donuts). We were just starting to watch Rush Hour 2 when Colleen started to feel not so hot. In fact, she started to leak, almost gush down below.
Now here’s a bit of information that I may have neglected to pass along to you: Marcus had not dropped at all. He wasn’t really in a position to go through the birth canal at all. This was another reason why our OB had her scheduled for the C-section.
Well after Dr Pezzella came in and appraised the situation, it was decided right then and there that an emergency C-section was to take place. Colleen was brought into the OB OR around 2030. I had donned my scrubs, informed my parents (who had gone home after getting our sandwiches), and was brought into the OR several minutes later.
I sat at Colleen’s head, with all the nasty surgery bits neatly hidden away behind a screen. She had already been given a spinal, and proclaimed that it was a weird feeling indeed. I kept her focused on me as the doctors went to work. We were warned when they were going to pull Marcus out, so I had Colleen focus on me and just me. They got him out and over to the warming table as they went through the post-birthing process of getting her back together. We took a look over at the table, and saw this huge, slimy bundle of arms and legs, which was then obscured by three pediatricians who began to do their thing.
Now I know I mentioned complications in my previous post. That may have been a bit of glossing over the whole problem, which was this: Colleen’s uterus was not contracting or shrinking. It was distended, and kept filling with blood, which did not stop. Medications, including pitosin, were administered in order to get the uterus to start to shrink. It was not happening. It kept swelling, and in return, filling with blood.
Dr Pezzella leaned over the screen and gave us the no-shitter: the uterus was in trouble. She would be trying various techniques in order to get it to start shrinking, but she wanted Colleen under general anesthesia. After a brief kiss, I was escorted out of the room. I went out to the atrium and in turn gave my parents the no-shitter.
I was at a loss as to what to do. I felt helpless in the entire situation, but I also realized that there was nothing that I could do at that moment, except for sending out positive energies. Of course, several “What if?” situations crept into my head, but I dismissed them. I didn’t need the bad energies.
I changed back into my street civvies and tried to get myself together. My parents waited in the LDR with me, and Dr Pezzella came in to give us a second no-shitter: Colleen had to have a hysterectomy. Her uterus couldn’t be saved. It just wouldn’t shrink down; it was too weak from the size of Marcus. She had lost about a third of her blood, and had two units pumped into her during the surgery. However, she was pulling through it. She left, saying that she would be back when Colleen was going to another recuperation ward after being released from the recovery room. It wasn’t long before she came back to grab us in order to see Colleen being wheeled out. She had already been extubated, and was awake and coherent. I wasn’t allowed to go up with her at that point, so I waited alone in the LDR for Dr Pezzella to come get me and see Colleen up in the recuperative ward. We were then informed that Colleen’s recovery was progressing extremely well, and she wouldn’t be going into the ICU overnight at all. In fact, she was being transferred to a Post-Partum Room, the same room in which I’m typing this entry.
She was wheeled into the PPR sometime after 130. My cot was already set up and I was hoping to settle in for a few hours of sleep.
How wrong I was.
Every time I put the lights at a decent level and the door shut, in burst a couple of nurses in order to check things with Colleen, leaving the door wide open so the hall lights can shine right in my face, and turning the lights all the way to beyond daylight bright, at least in my opinion.
Johnny arrived around 330, and they brought Marcus in for him to see. Colleen’s parents were about an hour or so behind him, and got to see him as well. Colleen was the one to break the news to them about her ordeal, fearful that everyone would be upset or angry or whatever. No one was. Everyone was thankful that both mother and baby were alive and well. That’s all anyone could ask for, in reality.
I don’t know when everyone left. I managed to conk out sometime before 500, I believe. I woke up for good sometime around 830 and decided to drag myself out of bed.
Colleen’s recovery is currently going well. She’s off of the morphine drip and is on Percocet for the pain. She’s already been breastfeeding Marcus, who’s getting used to the idea. Me, I’ve already changed his diaper twice and fed him formula from a bottle twice. Everyone can’t believe that I’m just doing this like an old pro, like I’ve done this before. First-timer here, but somehow it’s just coming naturally. Perhaps it’s a sign.
So here’s the gist of what happened: the placenta had sheared away from the uterus, which isn’t good. There was a decent-sized clot behind the uterus, which isn’t good. Marcus’ size was on the large size, which caused the uterus to be distended, which isn’t good. On the whole, while the birth portion of the operation went without a hitch, the reconstruction, for lack of a better term, wasn’t going according to normal planning. If Dr Pezzella had tried everything she knew, it would have taken more time than the Fates were allowing, and Colleen would most likely have bled out. There was no choice but to remove the uterus.
Marcus is our only child, at least child created by the two of us. He is and always will be special, our Precious. We think of what could have happened, but we will always be eternally grateful and beholden to Dr Pezzella, who saved Colleen’s life.
In the end, both the mommy and baby are just fine. True, there exists a reason for people to be sad about things, but there are many more reasons to be happy and thankful.
Me, I’m still in my Holy Shit mode, not truly believing that Marcus is finally here. I’ve held him in my arms many times now, and I’ve talked to him. Told him what I would be teaching him in the coming years. Fed him. Changed him.
And he’s changing me.
So now I’ve told you the circumstances behind Marcus’ birth.
My next installment will deal with the emotions and personal observations that are going along with everyone.
I’d start working on it now, but it’s fast approaching midnight, and I would like to get a better night’s sleep before too long.
Signing off…
However, what was not told were the whole circumstances and incidents that led to his arrival.
The story will now be told.
(Written on 7-8 May 2005)
For Colleen, the story starts with her normal OB appointment at 1115. There had been the worries about her protein levels, which were tagged at “minimally elevated,” as a warning sign of toxemia or pre-eclampsia. She had been in for a few hours during the previous week on a second non-stress test, and had been in for an appointment earlier in the week. A blood test followed by a urine test showed that her protein levels were indeed, as they had put it, “minimally elevated,” hence her admittance into the Women and Infant Care Center here at St Vincent’s Hospital at Worcester Medical Center.
I come into the story soon after 1400, as she tries to reach me through several attempts on my mobile. I couldn’t answer because I was on the phone with a customer. I was also the only one on the phones that day, as my colleague in Customer Support had left earlier on in the day, going home sick. So my mobile rings, and it’s Colleen.
(Note: this conversation is not verbatim, as I do not remember it word for word. However, you will get the gist of what was said.)
C: "How soon can you get here?"
A: "Why, what’s up?"
C: “They have me admitted, with a C-section scheduled for 1630.”
Needless to say, I did say that I would be there faster than ASAP. I informed everyone of what was going on, and within three minutes of me hanging up, I was pulling out of the driveway. I was already on the phone with Colleen’s parents before I had even hit the car, and I followed that call with one to my parents, briefing them of what was going on.
I stopped at home, grabbed Colleen’s hospital bag, finished packing mine, grabbed a few incidentals, and after fifteen minutes of pulling into the driveway, I was back out on the road for the typically-five minute drive to Medical Center.
I arrived around 1545, and found that Colleen was placed in one of the Labor and Delivery Rooms. Needless to say, she was very nervous about what was about to happen.
What didn’t help was the news that the anesthetist was severely backed up with ore urgent cases, and since ours was not considered to be an emergency, we were placed on the backlist. They were hoping to have us in the OR around 1900.
More news: our OB, Dr Nason, wasn’t going to be doing the surgery that night. However, Colleen had already met the OB, Dr Pezzella, who would be, and said that she was very nice and a very good doctor. (How true those words would turn out to be, and in retrospect, an understatement. But that’s still to come.)
Further news: due to the massive backup, there wouldn’t be a surgery on Friday night, but it would go down first thing Saturday morning. I had already planned on staying overnight anyway, so this was no big deal, really.
So we settle in. My parents had already been waiting in the lovely atrium all this time, and had already bought me a chicken sandwich for dinner from the cafeteria, but it was tough, dry, and inedible. So they bought us sandwiches from Garden Fresh in the food court in the hospital (which also has a pizza place and the ubiquitous Dunkin Donuts). We were just starting to watch Rush Hour 2 when Colleen started to feel not so hot. In fact, she started to leak, almost gush down below.
Now here’s a bit of information that I may have neglected to pass along to you: Marcus had not dropped at all. He wasn’t really in a position to go through the birth canal at all. This was another reason why our OB had her scheduled for the C-section.
Well after Dr Pezzella came in and appraised the situation, it was decided right then and there that an emergency C-section was to take place. Colleen was brought into the OB OR around 2030. I had donned my scrubs, informed my parents (who had gone home after getting our sandwiches), and was brought into the OR several minutes later.
I sat at Colleen’s head, with all the nasty surgery bits neatly hidden away behind a screen. She had already been given a spinal, and proclaimed that it was a weird feeling indeed. I kept her focused on me as the doctors went to work. We were warned when they were going to pull Marcus out, so I had Colleen focus on me and just me. They got him out and over to the warming table as they went through the post-birthing process of getting her back together. We took a look over at the table, and saw this huge, slimy bundle of arms and legs, which was then obscured by three pediatricians who began to do their thing.
Now I know I mentioned complications in my previous post. That may have been a bit of glossing over the whole problem, which was this: Colleen’s uterus was not contracting or shrinking. It was distended, and kept filling with blood, which did not stop. Medications, including pitosin, were administered in order to get the uterus to start to shrink. It was not happening. It kept swelling, and in return, filling with blood.
Dr Pezzella leaned over the screen and gave us the no-shitter: the uterus was in trouble. She would be trying various techniques in order to get it to start shrinking, but she wanted Colleen under general anesthesia. After a brief kiss, I was escorted out of the room. I went out to the atrium and in turn gave my parents the no-shitter.
I was at a loss as to what to do. I felt helpless in the entire situation, but I also realized that there was nothing that I could do at that moment, except for sending out positive energies. Of course, several “What if?” situations crept into my head, but I dismissed them. I didn’t need the bad energies.
I changed back into my street civvies and tried to get myself together. My parents waited in the LDR with me, and Dr Pezzella came in to give us a second no-shitter: Colleen had to have a hysterectomy. Her uterus couldn’t be saved. It just wouldn’t shrink down; it was too weak from the size of Marcus. She had lost about a third of her blood, and had two units pumped into her during the surgery. However, she was pulling through it. She left, saying that she would be back when Colleen was going to another recuperation ward after being released from the recovery room. It wasn’t long before she came back to grab us in order to see Colleen being wheeled out. She had already been extubated, and was awake and coherent. I wasn’t allowed to go up with her at that point, so I waited alone in the LDR for Dr Pezzella to come get me and see Colleen up in the recuperative ward. We were then informed that Colleen’s recovery was progressing extremely well, and she wouldn’t be going into the ICU overnight at all. In fact, she was being transferred to a Post-Partum Room, the same room in which I’m typing this entry.
She was wheeled into the PPR sometime after 130. My cot was already set up and I was hoping to settle in for a few hours of sleep.
How wrong I was.
Every time I put the lights at a decent level and the door shut, in burst a couple of nurses in order to check things with Colleen, leaving the door wide open so the hall lights can shine right in my face, and turning the lights all the way to beyond daylight bright, at least in my opinion.
Johnny arrived around 330, and they brought Marcus in for him to see. Colleen’s parents were about an hour or so behind him, and got to see him as well. Colleen was the one to break the news to them about her ordeal, fearful that everyone would be upset or angry or whatever. No one was. Everyone was thankful that both mother and baby were alive and well. That’s all anyone could ask for, in reality.
I don’t know when everyone left. I managed to conk out sometime before 500, I believe. I woke up for good sometime around 830 and decided to drag myself out of bed.
Colleen’s recovery is currently going well. She’s off of the morphine drip and is on Percocet for the pain. She’s already been breastfeeding Marcus, who’s getting used to the idea. Me, I’ve already changed his diaper twice and fed him formula from a bottle twice. Everyone can’t believe that I’m just doing this like an old pro, like I’ve done this before. First-timer here, but somehow it’s just coming naturally. Perhaps it’s a sign.
So here’s the gist of what happened: the placenta had sheared away from the uterus, which isn’t good. There was a decent-sized clot behind the uterus, which isn’t good. Marcus’ size was on the large size, which caused the uterus to be distended, which isn’t good. On the whole, while the birth portion of the operation went without a hitch, the reconstruction, for lack of a better term, wasn’t going according to normal planning. If Dr Pezzella had tried everything she knew, it would have taken more time than the Fates were allowing, and Colleen would most likely have bled out. There was no choice but to remove the uterus.
Marcus is our only child, at least child created by the two of us. He is and always will be special, our Precious. We think of what could have happened, but we will always be eternally grateful and beholden to Dr Pezzella, who saved Colleen’s life.
In the end, both the mommy and baby are just fine. True, there exists a reason for people to be sad about things, but there are many more reasons to be happy and thankful.
Me, I’m still in my Holy Shit mode, not truly believing that Marcus is finally here. I’ve held him in my arms many times now, and I’ve talked to him. Told him what I would be teaching him in the coming years. Fed him. Changed him.
And he’s changing me.
So now I’ve told you the circumstances behind Marcus’ birth.
My next installment will deal with the emotions and personal observations that are going along with everyone.
I’d start working on it now, but it’s fast approaching midnight, and I would like to get a better night’s sleep before too long.
Signing off…
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From:
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Please please please hug Colleen and Marcus for me. Tell them both that I am glad they are here.
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... I can't imagine going through that... I'm so glad that mom and baby are alive and healthy, and I'm sorry that you won't be able to have more biological children... at least there are other options you can explore down the road, if you so choose.
Hugs to you all and am sending lots of healing vibes from Canada to speed up her recovery.
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One of these days you'll have to post a pic of the little one. Does he look more like you or C right now? (knowing that'll change, of course)
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Anyway, just questions... :) I'm glad she was under the best possible care and that everything is ok. That's the most important thing.
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I know it must have took a lot to share that story. Thank you for sharing with us.
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Colleen was saying that she'd rather have people know about this and not make an inadvertant faux pas by mentioning future children. I agree on this. Plus I think it's part of the healing process.
As was said once before through the master storyteller Spider Robinson:
"Happiness shared is increased; pain shared is lessened." (Or something to that effect.)
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Perhaps in a few weeks if you guys are up to it you'd like to come over for a BBQ? We'll talk :) Tell Colleen I've been thinking of her and we can't wait to see pictures of little M :)
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A BBQ sounds good to me. Let us know what we can bring.
Pics will be on the way, as soon as I DL them from our new toy.
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congratu-friggin-lations on the arrival! sounds like you've got a rugby player there!
You are a dear friend to me, as i hope you know, Pink, and i am sending all the warmest wishes and sincerest love to you and yours at this time and always.
kiss the little 'un for me and tell 'Mom' that, eventhough i've never met her, i am damned proud of the woman.
be well, the three of you, and start sending pics straight away before i have to swim home and take them myself! ;)
*massive hugs*