I called the hospital and spoke to a midwife. She told me in a rather annoyed voice that bleeding was normal and called lochia. She told me to call my General Practice (GP) in the morning and hung up. I was upset.
She hadn’t asked me how heavy the bleeding was, or if I’d had a c-section, or if I had any other problems. I didn’t see a point in calling my GP since they would have no record of what was going on with me, and had not yet been released from midwife (hospital) care due to the symptoms I’d been having.
So the next morning I decided to call the community midwives. I left a message on an answering machine and waited. Near the end of the day I finally got a call back and I told the midwife what was going on. She asked the right questions and then spoke with her supervisor.
I was told to go to the hospital and check myself in. We packed our bags quickly and checked in. After an exam that night I was told that the doctor would see me in the morning. It was a rough night because once again, there was no place for my husband to stay. After all of the sleepless night we’d already endured, staying in a hard chair isn’t much of an option.
So I had my first night alone with the baby. He peed on me for the first time while I was changing his nappy. I didn’t have an extra set of pajamas this time around so I was ill prepared and had to wear a t-shirt.
The next morning I was scanned and then I had lunch. Immediately after lunch they told me that I shouldn’t have had lunch because I needed to go under general anesthesia that day to have a procedure to remove part of the placenta from the womb.
I had to sign a form stating that I understood the risks ranging from bowel perforation to the c-section scar re-opening.
I was terrified. General anesthesia has always terrified me. I wrote out a letter to my son in case I didn’t wake up. I kissed them goodbye and then I was wheeled off once again to the same room where my c-section took place.
The room looked much smaller this second time around and I was able to look at everything from a different perspective. In a way, it kind of helped to put the c-section trauma into perspective. I said “hello” to the same anesthesiologist who was there when I gave birth and had the same name as my husband.
I was told to lie down and I was given oxygen. There was no countdown like I’d seen in movies. I was already hooked up to an iv, but they had to inject my other arm. When they did, it hurt and I could feel the pain and medicine rushing up through my arm towards my shoulder. I started to panic a bit and my breathing became rapid.
Then I awoke to my name being called. I thanked the staff for not killing me, and they laughed. My husband said I was talking nonsense when I was wheeled back in.
I immediately fed the baby. I was shocked that he hadn’t wanted to feed during the procedure as he seems to be the world’s hungriest baby.
The procedure was successful but I had to stay in for another night because once again, my blood pressure was too low and I needed another iv.
Three nights and four days in the hospital and finally, I was able to begin recovering.