Tag Archives: nurses

…And Baby makes 3!

Standard

On Thursday, October 12th, I had a doctors appointment that showed my blood pressure was slightly elevated.  Nothing too scary, however, I was told I needed to stop work immediately.  I was also told I couldn’t run anymore.  I was 37 weeks pregnant.  Then, on Sunday, October 15th, we went to the hospital to check the blood pressure again, along with a blood test and urine test.  Blood pressure was still raised, but other tests came back fine.  However, I needed to have this baby in the next few days.  An induction was scheduled for Wednesday, October 18th.  I would be 38 weeks pregnant.

I am a very Type-A person who likes control and plans.  So on paper, having a scheduled date to arrive to the hospital would be a relief. However, the days leading up to the induction stressed me out a bit. I’ve been to hospitals before for surgeries–but for those, you arrive, get prepped, get drugged up and put out, and wake up with everything all done and fixed.  This time, I would be arriving at the hospital with an end goal in sight, but it would resemble a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book.

What I wore to the hospital the morning of my induction

I won’t go into all the details of my induction, labour, delivery, recovery.  But I am going to go over some key moments and takeaways.  First, induction can be done a lot of different ways.  My doctor opted to administer a pill orally every 4 hours.  I received my first pill at 6:30 am, and in total I had four during the day.  They didn’t seem to act super fast, and I just experienced manageable cramping during the afternoon.  But once they did their job, labour hit HARD.  When labour did hit me, the pain was not just in my lower abdomen (like I was assuming it would be).  I had read about ‘back labour’ and pains all throughout your torso.  Yeah…that’s what I had.  MY whole lower back, wrapped around my abdomen, to my upper thighs.  The induction drugs were overtaking my whole body and forcing it to go into labour—because otherwise, baby was completely content staying inside.

If you are planning on taking any medication for pain, ask for it early.  I had originally thought maybe I’d try a natural delivery.  Yeah, once the pains began I realized SHIT….NO.  So I finally asked for morphine.  Problem was, the doctor who could sign off on it was busy delivering not one, but two babies.  So I had to wait.  My husband thinks it was about an hour after we initially asked for it that it took to get it.  Oh, and then during that time I barfed for the first time in my whole pregnancy.

I finally got moved from the induction area to a labour and delivery room.  Here is where I let all the swears and bad language flow.  The saving grace in this location was the shower.  I just plopped myself on the chair and made Dan get in his swim trunks and hose me down like an elephant at the zoo.  I was probably in the shower from 1.5-2 hours of my labour, as I was in there initially when we got into the room and then again later on when I realized laying in the bed was too damn painful.

After the shower, I decided FUCK IT I want an epidural.  But, my body hadn’t progressed enough yet to get one.  When my water broke and I was ready to get an epidural, they put the order in.  But I had to wait….the anaesthesiologist was in the OR.  Alright….if my labour now progressed normally I would still get the full epidural with plenty of time to spare.  But, my body decided to kick into overdrive….it may not have wanted to be induced, but not that everything was working it started working FAST.  I can say with certainty that the anaesthesiologist did not arrive in our room until 11:30 PM.  I did not get a full epidural, as it was too close to when I would be starting pushing.  But, I was numbed in my lower abdomen area.  I started pushing at 11:45 PM.  Baby Andrew Allen Pottage came into the world at 12:32 AM on Thursday, October 19th.

 

Baby Andy weighed in at 6 pounds 4 ounces and 19.25 inches long

 

Let’s give a shoutout to the nurses. Everything they did for us leading up to his delivery was first class.  And we witnessed their hard work after he was born.  He had some difficulty breathing initially, and there were about 4 nurses working on him in my room.  They eventually took him and my husband down to NICU where he got hooked up to a breathing machine and IV.  I stayed very calm when they all left the room, mainly because I knew he was in good hands.  My nurse Carla stayed with me, cleaned me up, and even went to heat up my Mac & Cheese that Dan had brought me earlier that I never had a chance to eat for dinner.  I got to head down to NICU with Dan later on at around 2:45 AM and we got to spend time with Andy.

I like to say that Andy knew how to work the system from the moment he was born.  He only had that breathing tube in until the early afternoon of the 19th, and stayed in NICU to be observed until the early afternoon of the 20th.  The NICU is brand-spanking new.  It’s a Four Seasons hotel.  The maternity ward is a Motel 6 (for the record, a new maternity ward is opening within the next month, and it’ll be right next to the NICU).  Anyway, Andy stayed in style while Dan and I were slumming it.  Andy came to the slums on Friday night so we could get one evening of him ‘rooming-in’ with us before being discharged.  We were spoiled ourselves, actually, with him in NICU for those short 36 hours because the nurses there took care of his every need all while we watched and learned from a distance.


As we left the hospital on Saturday morning, it still felt surreal.  Even though we walked out of the front doors carrying a baby in a car seat, it didn’t feel real.  My pregnancy journey was now complete—it lasted actually a full year, if you take into account when we initially decided we were going to start trying, to when we had the miscarriage, to getting pregnant very quick after.  38 weeks pregnant with Andy and an early arrival…wow is all I can say.  For me, being pregnant was like following a training plan for a race.  I had weekly goals to meet, I had check-ups with my coaches (doctors) to make sure everything was on the right track.  And when it came time for the big event, I worked overtime to get to that finish line.  I think it’s fair to say that Andy is the best finisher medal I have ever received.


Advertisements

Quest in Quebec City, Part II

Standard

The post below is a continuation from two days ago. It is my recap/reflection on the experiences I had while in Quebec City!

On Thursday, April 24th, we arrived at Musee Bon Pasteur. I was looking forward to this visit—the second floor was advertised to have an exhibit featuring the orphanage my dad was born at! When my husband and I walked through the doors, the receptionist did not know any English. Dan spoke with her to let her know I did not speak French; she then asked if we wanted an English-speaking guide. I am very appreciative that they had an English speaking guide in the facility, because visiting the museum would not have been the same without Sister Claudette’s guidance!

20140430-190834.jpg

Sister Claudette met us and gave us an overview of who the Sisters of Good Shepard are, and how they were formed. The story is quite incredible, and I encourage you to go to Musee Bon Pasteur and read about how this group of women found each other. She knew we were most interested in the items on the second floor, so after her 15 minute overview on the history on the first floor, we headed upstairs.

This is where everything came out. She first asked to see what information I had with me. After pulling out the envelope with the ominous “680 Chemin Ste Foy” address on it, she quickly told us why we were confused when we went their yesterday—-because it’s actually at 1210! The addresses had shifted over the years! She gave us a postcard with an old photo of La Crèche St Vincent de Paul so we could use it when we went back to find 1210 Chemin Ste Foy.

20140430-192613.jpg

We then looked at the handwritten letter together, and Sister Claudette then had a surprise for us. The sister who had signed the letter was a very prominent Sister at La Crèche, and there was a photo of her on that floor of the museum! Sister James Philip had signed that letter in 1954! Below is a picture of the letter next to her photo—these items are displayed on the original baptismal font that was used at the original St. Patricks! This font was used on my dad’s baptism on June 10th, 1952, three days after he was born (we know this because of the statement on his baptismal abstract which was produced in 1957; we can only assume, and Sister Claudette agreed, that this abstract was needed by my grandparents for when he went through his American Citizenship)

20140430-190747.jpg

Lots of other artifacts were on site for viewing in the museum. There are pictures, which reminded me of yearbook photos, of the doctors and sisters who were at La Crèche during certain time frames. There are also pictures of the children being looked after. Sister Claudette said these photos were taken in the 1950s

20140430-190911.jpg

20140430-190928.jpg

Sister Claudette then explained to us more about the timeline of my dad’s adoption. He was born on June 7, 1952, and we knew from original paperwork that he was adopted and brought across into the US on July 4, 1954…this approximate two-year window is important. She explained to us that when a woman gave birth at La Crèche, the choice was to sign the child over for adoption right away, or wait a maximum of two years. In those two years if she felt fit to take care of the child on her own, or in some cases if she had then wed the father and came back, the child would be reunited.

My grandparents worked with the help of Catholic Charities in Illinois to set up an adoption. The Catholic Charities sent a letter in May 1954 that a boy had been selected for them. They drove up to La Crèche to meet my dad. I would love to know if photos of this occasion had existed somewhere in my grandparents hands, but they moved so much all over the world they may have been lost. One thing I should have assumed but was never certain was my dad’s birth name. We knew it was Luke, as written on the old envelope. But that was the English spelling. Sister Claudette confirmed that the name on the “Alien Registration” form that was used when moving to the US was his given name—Luc Parent. This was not chosen by the birth mother, though. We learned that the doctors and Sisters had a list of generic first names and last names they went through and gave to the children. So my dad was given Luc Parent!

20140430-192534.jpg

It was an amazing visit. Absolutely memorable. I will never forget it! We learned so much in that short time at the museum. Plus, there is still a chance to learn more. Later that day, Dan phoned a number given to us by Sister Claudette. It was for Centre Jeunesse-Centre for Adopted Youth. There’s an outside chance they will let me provide my dad’s information for the archives, in case anyone from his birth family has tried looking for him. This is something traditionally the adopted child must do, but we may as well try. Problem was, we called twice, and the person on the other line had horrific English, and Dan’s French was just as bad. An English speaking worker was supposed to call us back by yesterday but hasn’t. I will tackle this feat over the next few weeks.

And 1210 Chemin Ste Foy? Well, we went the following day. On April 25, 2014, we walked the two miles to La Crèche St Vincent de Paul. My dad had passed away exactly 10 years before on April 25, 2004. How did I feel?—rejuvenated.

20140430-192419.jpg