Christopher Jr.'s Birth
Due: 11/09/2012
This is our story....
The details of the horrific tragedy which claimed the life of Christopher Jr.'s father can be found on Wonderland Wanderess, under the title of "Til Death, did we Part".
"Lachlan's Birth Story", also found on Wonderland Wanderess, details the traumatic experience I endured with my firstborn.
Once again, my mother would be by my side, just as she had been throughout Lachlan's birth. This time she would be decked out in blue scrubs and booties- "Paging Dr. Greenfield!"
When we were taken into theatre I was instructed to sit on the operating table, my legs dangling over the side. An anaesthetist cleaned and prepped my back for the required spinal block. I remember shivering uncontrollably and my teeth chattering- operating theatres are always so cold!
My second perfect baby boy was placed on my chest for some skin to skin contact. I looked at him and tears of happiness and sadness, in equal measure, streamed down my face. It was the most bittersweet moment of my life and my mother's eyes too, were brimming.
My mother commented on how much better I looked this time around than after Lachlan's birth and I actually did feel better initially. I had much more energy, though this was hardly surprising seeing as I had not suffered a massive postpartum haemorrhage as I had last time!
While I was still in hospital my doctor had prescribed Endone which made my pain bearable. I was in for the shock of my life when I was discharged and no longer afforded that luxury! I was soon brought to the brutal realisation that the life-threatening complications I'd so feared repeating, had nothing on the horrors of a cesarean recovery!
I was in both physical and emotional pain and felt absolutely useless. I was unable to do my own house work, drive anywhere, take care of myself or be a good mother to my toddler. The only thing I could do right was nurturing my newborn... but then I couldn't even do that! I learned at a postnatal doctor's check-up that the reason Christopher had been barely sleeping, throwing up almost all of his feeds and was often inconsolable, was that he was severely lactose intolerant. She prescribed him a special formula after which, I had a different baby.
Despite this, I remained dangerously depressed and in those dark days, the thought of suicide crossed my mind more than once. I remember sitting on the floor of the shower, warm water cascading over me, my mother in the room because I just couldn't bear to be alone. I wept oceans upon oceans of tears, my shoulders heaving as sobs wracked my body. "I've known this had to be coming for months," Mum said, "You grieved too well. You coped with all of it too well...."
She was right... I had plastered preparations for the birth of mine and Chris's child over the chasmic wounds his death had inflicted on my mind, depriving them of a chance to properly breathe and heal. I'd buried that emotional baggage deep down inside because I had to be a mother to Lachlan first and foremost. Aside from that, I was terrified of miscarrying as a result of stress. I am sure losing that last little piece of Chris would have sent me catapulting over the edge. So there I was, seven months after the fact, now with a toddler and a newborn, old gashes of grief torn open anew.
Some days I have absolutely no idea how I survived any of it but I guess the how isn't important in the grand scheme of things- all that truly matters is that I did survive.
Life is a lot like Poker- we don't get to choose the hands we are dealt but it is always up to us how we choose to play the cards we've been given. And sometimes it just so happens to be the worst hands of all, played with enough determination, faith and resilience, that turn out to be the winning ones... ❤
Both of these events contributed to my decision to birth my second child via cesarean section.
~
My C-section was scheduled to take place at 39 weeks gestation. While I wasn't sure what to expect from this form of birth, I assumed it had to be better than the hell I'd been through with Lachlan's induced birth. That was my first mistake! You know what they say about the word, "assume"!
~
When we were taken into theatre I was instructed to sit on the operating table, my legs dangling over the side. An anaesthetist cleaned and prepped my back for the required spinal block. I remember shivering uncontrollably and my teeth chattering- operating theatres are always so cold!
A pillow was placed on my lap and I was instructed to remain completely still. My mother stood in front of me and I clung to her. The needle wasn't pleasant but it was over quickly and I vividly recall a warming sensation rushing down my legs as the numbness took effect.
I was laid down flat on the operating table and the pillow was taken from me and placed under my head. A blue screen was set up to block the gory view of my soon to be sliced open stomach and surgery commenced at 9am.
Having not had an epidural with my first birth, I hadn't expected to be able to feel as much as I could! There was no pain but so much pushing and tugging and pressure! A final forceful ripping feeling took me entirely by surprise, causing me to cry out! My own voice was quickly drowned out by the sweet sound of baby Christopher's crying, as he came into the world at 9:05am.
His cries grew louder and louder still- he had a decent set of lungs from the very moment he was born and not a great deal has changed in that regard! I asked the nurses what was wrong with him and Mum laughed and said, "You'd probably cry too if you were somewhere dark, warm and safe and the next thing you knew, you'd been yanked into a bright, cold room!"
It was a valid point! Lachlan hadn't cried at all when he was born, so it was a whole new experience for me. We'd actually wondered if Lachlan even could cry for while there! The first time he did wasn't until after he'd had his first bath. He then cried after he was taken out of the nice, warm water and I cried too just from hearing him cry- those dang postnatal hormones!
~
My second perfect baby boy was placed on my chest for some skin to skin contact. I looked at him and tears of happiness and sadness, in equal measure, streamed down my face. It was the most bittersweet moment of my life and my mother's eyes too, were brimming.
"Chris should have been here," I murmured, "It's not fair..."
A nurse took little Christopher to weigh him and measure him and Mum went to take some photos for me. He was 49cm long and weighed 7 pounds and 8 ounces. His weight was exactly the same as his brother, Lachlan's had been- what are the odds of that?!
Once my spinal block wore off, I was in far more pain than I had been after Lachlan's birth! Any and all movement was excruciating but that pain paled in comparison to the agony of my uterus contracting back down to its normal size each time I breastfed. It isn't exactly a pleasant experience after a natural birth but after a cesarean, when the uterus is full of stitches, I found I had to clench my teeth to keep from crying out!
My mother commented on how much better I looked this time around than after Lachlan's birth and I actually did feel better initially. I had much more energy, though this was hardly surprising seeing as I had not suffered a massive postpartum haemorrhage as I had last time!
While I was still in hospital my doctor had prescribed Endone which made my pain bearable. I was in for the shock of my life when I was discharged and no longer afforded that luxury! I was soon brought to the brutal realisation that the life-threatening complications I'd so feared repeating, had nothing on the horrors of a cesarean recovery!
~
Being unable to pick Lachlan up was the hardest thing of all. He was at the age where all he really wanted was to be picked up and cuddled constantly- that was his main source of comfort and the way he communicated his own affection. Sadly, my doctor had told me he was far too heavy and if I did attempt pick him up, I'd likely burst my stitches.
Lachlan was less than two and a half years old at the time and he had only begun speaking clearly in the weeks before Chris Sr. passed away. After the death of the only father he had ever known, Lachlan barely spoke for months. I think the trauma and grief he too suffered really set him back developmentally, particularly when it came to communication. He has come such a long way and I could not be more proud of his resilience and courage but at the time of Christopher Jr.'s birth when Lachlan was almost entirely non-verbal, I'm not sure he really understood that he was going to be a big brother. To him I think it seemed more like this demanding little thing that cried all the time and took my attention away from him had just appeared out of thin air!
Lachlan soon came to adore little Christopher (who he called "Baby") and he became so very protective of him. During that first week of Christopher's life though, Lachlan scarcely glanced in my direction at all and would only glare at "Baby".
The fact I was incapable of comforting Lachlan to his level of satisfaction, coupled with Christoper barely sleeping more than two hours at a time, around the clock, sent me spiralling into postnatal depression.
~
I was in both physical and emotional pain and felt absolutely useless. I was unable to do my own house work, drive anywhere, take care of myself or be a good mother to my toddler. The only thing I could do right was nurturing my newborn... but then I couldn't even do that! I learned at a postnatal doctor's check-up that the reason Christopher had been barely sleeping, throwing up almost all of his feeds and was often inconsolable, was that he was severely lactose intolerant. She prescribed him a special formula after which, I had a different baby.
Despite this, I remained dangerously depressed and in those dark days, the thought of suicide crossed my mind more than once. I remember sitting on the floor of the shower, warm water cascading over me, my mother in the room because I just couldn't bear to be alone. I wept oceans upon oceans of tears, my shoulders heaving as sobs wracked my body. "I've known this had to be coming for months," Mum said, "You grieved too well. You coped with all of it too well...."
She was right... I had plastered preparations for the birth of mine and Chris's child over the chasmic wounds his death had inflicted on my mind, depriving them of a chance to properly breathe and heal. I'd buried that emotional baggage deep down inside because I had to be a mother to Lachlan first and foremost. Aside from that, I was terrified of miscarrying as a result of stress. I am sure losing that last little piece of Chris would have sent me catapulting over the edge. So there I was, seven months after the fact, now with a toddler and a newborn, old gashes of grief torn open anew.
Some days I have absolutely no idea how I survived any of it but I guess the how isn't important in the grand scheme of things- all that truly matters is that I did survive.
~
Life is a lot like Poker- we don't get to choose the hands we are dealt but it is always up to us how we choose to play the cards we've been given. And sometimes it just so happens to be the worst hands of all, played with enough determination, faith and resilience, that turn out to be the winning ones... ❤
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