And then there were three … part two


Eventually, we finished in the theatre and I was taken to recovery and got some skin-on-skin time with my son and was able to feed him for the first time.

However, before long I was being hooked up to machines – my blood pressure was too low, and my oxygen saturation was too low. I was already on a drip, as is normal after a section, but two other bags of fluid were added into the mix, so that I soon had a web of tubes taped to my arm with them all feeding into the one cannula. The midwife was forcing through one of the bags so that it went through quickly, and then replaced it, forcing through the next one and the next. The final one was allowed to make its own way onto my system. I was put on oxygen, first with a mask, but then with tubes that went into my nose.  My blood pressure was measured every 15 minutes.  The team in recovery were waiting for me to be moved to the maternity ward, needing the space back, but the maternity team weren’t happy to have me moved to their ward in my current state, as they weren’t well enough staffed to be able to care for me properly. I stayed in recovery longer and was eventually moved to maternity complete with the oxygen (not normal procedure), where my older children and my parents were waiting to meet the new arrival. My children seemed to take all the tubes in their stride, but my parents were worried and made arrangements to extend their stay.

My family stayed just long enough to have cuddles with baby Sid, and then my parents, older children and husband all went home for the night.  Baby Sid slept through the night, no doubt worn out by his ordeal at birth.  I continued to feel poorly.  I’d been nil by mouth since 7am but had been told I could eat after the operation as soon as I felt able. I asked for a drink of water late in the evening, but only managed a couple of sips.  A few minutes later, I vomited (thankfully, a midwife was changing Sid’s nappy, so he was well out of the way), grabbing the cardboard bowls that had been stacked on my bedside table. I vomited over a litre of bile and felt dreadful. After this performance, I was nil by mouth again.

Fifteen hours after Sid was born, in the early hours of the next day, I was finally taken off the drip and oxygen, and my blood pressure didn’t need to be measured every 15 minutes.  A few hours later, I was able to have some toast and water, and not vomit.  I was on the mend.  Through the morning and much of the rest of the day though, I felt unwell.  I would feel really hot, and as sweating a lot, and felt very woozy.  My observations showed nothing unusual, and so the doctor was called, not once, but twice during that day.  They could find nothing wrong, no signs of infection and nothing to cause how I was feeling.  The surgeon was called to see me and she too could find nothing wrong.  She repeated her warning from theatre however (which I had not heard at the time), that I should not have any more children because another c-section would be too dangerous, given the problems they had during this one.

I felt better the next morning and was able to get out of bed and have a shower, a full day behind schedule.  Sid and I were wheeled down to the clinic for his tongue tie to be investigated.  It didn’t seem to have caused us any problems with feeding thus far, but when the Doctor examined him, he decided it was as well to release it and so it was done.  Sleepy Sid opened one eye to look at the Doctor as he cut, but couldn’t rouse himself to cry. The plan was that I would feed him almost immediately, but Sid was not playing.  He wanted to sleep.

Later that day we were released from hospital and we went home to start life as a family of five.

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