My C-Sections journey will be broken into 3 parts, Scarred for Iife, Pregnancy PTSD and I Don't Mean Postpartum Depression, and Bob Marley Love. I will release these blogs in that order so my full journey is well explained. Lettuce Begin!
Scarred for Life - I was a young healthy female when I had Isabella. No complications what so ever during pregnancy. During labor I developed an infection which caused me to have an emergency c-section. I remember being transitioned into the cold surgery room and waiting for Rik to come through the doors. I'm not sure what happened but they had to immediately start, Rik didn't make it... I was all alone. I remember the doctor starting to cut me open and feeling it. I let them know and they pretended I was crazy. I spoke up about it again. They put me to sleep. When I woke up - I was in the postpartum room with my family but no baby. It had been hours since the surgery. A doctor came in and mentioned how beautiful Bella was, I replied - I wouldn't know, I haven't met her. I wasn't the first person to meet my daughter... my first born. There goes that connection.
When they brought me Bella - hours later - I fell in love. I remember all my friends and family who came to visit. I remember being in a honeymoon stage with Rik and Bella. It was so beautiful and peaceful. We stayed at the hospital for a few days due to the infection. At that time, we lived in an apartment on the third floor so I planned on staying at my mom's for a few days. We were discharged and we went to her house. We were at her house for maybe 1-2 days before "it" happened.
I woke up one day and was getting dressed to go to a doctor appointment. When my stomach started leaking. It was an orange/yellowish color. It smelled awful. Rik rushed me to the hospital while my mom got Bella together. Until this very day - I cannot remember what happened. It's like a black blockage in my memory. I remember leaking in my sisters room - then waking up in the hospital bed. Rik has told me that I was taken to a room where they reopened my c-section and cleaned it out. He said it smelled like death and I was screaming "get her out get her out". It smelled so bad he almost passed out. There went my honeymoon vibe..
After that - I was in the hospital for about 3 weeks. My c-section had become infected. I was up in a room, watching everyone come and go - including my daughter. I had to have a second surgery done to attempt to remove some of the infected tissue/skin. There was a risk I would lose my uterus - at 19 years old.. (yes I was a young mom & I own that shit) I remember being so scarred, felt so alone and cold. I remember just praying to make it through and to keep my uterus. Surgery was over. I didn't lose anything but a part of my stomach. My c-section was significantly enlarged. I had a huge hole in me. Full of gauze and pain. Where was Bella?
My mom had kept Bella the entire time. She had a flexible work schedule and was able to keep her during the nights and bring her back to the hospital during the day. I had lost that natural connection with Bella. I knew she was mine but she didn't feel mine. I missed her newborn nights and getting to know her. I was in too much pain to hold her much or even pick her up. I was stuck on the hospital bed. I developed postpartum depression. It sucks! It's one of the worst feelings ever - so I thought. I remember crying because people would leave, crying because I was there, crying because I wanted my mom, crying because Bella didn't feel mine.
In my second week there I was provided the option of a wound vac. I was so happy of the idea of going home I agreed. Raise your hand if you don't know what a wound vac is (I sure didn't). I'll explain in my real life experience terms. It is a living hell. This whole time, I am still opened up. I still have a pretty big hole open - filled with gauze. The gauze was changed every so often by the nurses, hurt some but nothing like what I would have to face. Oh! During all this I would get some type of medicine shot up my IV. Which was now a pick. What is a pick? Okay so during these weeks, I was repeatedly poked all over. My body was so swollen nothing else could be entered or a vein found. There was no way to put in an IV so a pick was inserted. It's like a central line to get all types of stuff in your body. Again - these are my own personal terms I experienced, not a Dr. This pick, was painful of course. Couldn't be any other way. But - it did help get fluids in and out my body without anymore poking. anywaysssss. With this pick I was able to get some type of shot that helped me with pain, I want to say morphine? Not 100% sure - all I know is that it helped a lot. I could only tolerate gauze changes with this shot but was expected to handle a dressing change without it in order to go home.
The wound vac arrived. The would vac was a machine, that would be connected to me and drain out all the infection. Doesn't sound horrible right? Well it fucken was. My insides were going to be stuffed with big ass foam blocks, when I say big I mean HUGE. This foam was going to be in my stomach for a day or two and my infected tissue was going to grow on to this foam and then yanked the fuck out every - Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Yanked. Yes. Yanked. When the wound vac arrived I didn't know this in details. I knew it was just my ticket out the MF door okay? I was ready to go home, and hoped it would help with my depression. I remember the first dressing change with the wound vac...... I had the shot... and I STILL could have died at that very moment. It was a horrible pain. But I was ready to go.
I got to my moms house - again. This time with a nurse. I had my own nurse that would come every Monday, Wednesday, Friday to change my dressing. Well.. one of those days were here. My nurse's name was Ciara sweetest girl ever. Without her I'm not sure how I would have got through it. So I had tape, air tight clear tape from my belly to my vagina triangle - AND - all the hair I wasn't able to shave while in the hospital 2-3 FUCKEN WEEKS!! She started with the tape.. that alone was fucken painful. Now - today, you can tear my clit off and I am sure I wouldn't feel a thing. But that was nothing for what was next.. She opened up the hole and started taking out the foam. At this point, I was on oxy's that I was prescribed. They did absolutely nothing. I was feeling every tissue part being ripped off with the foam, my insides were literally being torn out and there was nothing that I could do about it. It was a necessity for me to heal. I have never until this very day, another child later - have ever felt any pain like that. This was a ritual every Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Monday's being the worst since my tissue had more time to fully attach to the foam during the weekend. Oh! and after the foam is ripped out and new one put in - just when you think the pain is over - the wound vac was like SIKE - you have to hit the "on" button. The "on" button will turn on the wound vac and pull in all your insides through the tube that connects your hole to the machine and start sucking the life out of you. Again... this was 3 times a week......
I was on the wound vac from September to mid December. I was depressed for months. I couldn't connect with Bella. I was on 3 oxy's at a time during every dressing change. I couldn't breastfeed due to so much medication. I had nothing to look forward to but pain. People would stare at my wound vac and honestly probably thought it was was urine or shit. I couldn't really wear cute clothes. I had to charge the machine or it would beep like hell. I was miserable. Depressed and Miserable.
You know one thing that I always remember... During this time, I was still 19. As my wound was healing, the wound doctor I would visit always kept saying "your stomach is healing uneven - but we will fix it next baby". Next fucken baby... As if after this never fucken heard of shit I was thinking about another baby. & she lied.. no one would touch my scar after that. They messed up so bad its untouchable. The tissue is so scarred my stomach will never be even or corrected. It's this way for life.
XoXo Mom Bae