Millie Met Wells

Millie Met Wells

My father being in the delivery room was not in my birth plan. He bought a “little brother” onesie from the hospital gift shop and to his surprise, I was mid-push in active labor when he came to show me. He watched as Wells entered the world and was placed upon my chest. My dad went out into the waiting room where his wife, my step-mom, was watching Millie. She asked my dad how I liked the onesie and was completely surprised when he told her that baby Wells was born! He explained that the baby had been delivered while he was “delivering” the outfit. Together, my dad and step-mom brought Millie to the delivery room to meet her baby brother.

Millie stood nervously at the entrance of the room until her daddy welcomed her over to my bedside. She ran with great two-year-old-gusto into his arms. He kissed her on the head as he lifted her up to see the new baby. Millie saw Wells sleeping in my arms. “Oh, baby Wells!” After the many months of telling Mille that she was going to have a baby brother, she finally was able to meet him. Chris and I were given matching hospital bracelets that linked us to baby Wells and the nurse gave Millie a bracelet that said, big sister. It was purple and adorable but Mill didn’t like it around her wrist and had the nurse cut it off. Sitting on the bed, she sang him, Happy Birthday”.

The nurse took Wells to get his measurements and Millie followed; she wanted to be where her little brother was. Millie demanded her daddy, “pick me up” so she could have a better view of Wells. She informed the nurse that she was the big sister and made a comment about her stethoscope (a word she picked up from watching Doc McStuffins). The nurse was very impressed with her vocabulary and let her wear the stethoscope around her neck. To my surprise, Wells weighed over eight pounds! I was in disbelief because my ultrasound the week prior, the tech said he was weighing in at less than seven. After having Millie, a 4.8lb baby, Wells was giant! As Wells started to fuss, Millie got upset. She was already protective of her little brother.

Millie was to come back to the hospital the next day to take “fresh 48” photos (pictures taken within the first 48 hours after birth). I found out that Millie had gotten sick after eating breakfast. She had never thrown up before. I blame the puking on her grandparents because I guarantee they gave her way too much sugar. The hospital pediatrician said it was okay that she come up as long as she wasn’t running a fever. (The world was very different a week before the lockdown.) Millie bulldozed into the room and no one would have ever guessed that she got sick earlier in the day. She had on an outfit that matched her brother’s.

We laid Wells on some pillows next to Millie in the hospital bed. She was so curious; she kept trying to pull his hair up to see how long it was. “I hold him, daddy?” She rested her cheek on his head and it about melted my heart.

Toddler Fracture

Toddler Fracture

“Does your grandmother always use the restroom in the afternoon?” – Genius Doctor at Columbus Children’s Hospital

What kind of sideways question is that? My grandmother uses the bathroom whenever she needs to! Unfortunately, on that particular Tuesday, while my grandmother was taking care business, Millie slid on the hardwood floor and fractured her tibia. There was no swelling, redness, or bruising however, she refused to put any weight on her left foot. I could touch her foot and she could move it, so I knew nothing was broken. I had no idea the process that is healing a toddler fracture.

After two rounds of xrays, neither of which I could be in the room for because I am pregnant – oh, and Mill cried for me the entire time while I waited outside the door and my heart broke in a million pieces, the doctor didn’t seeing anything unusual. The doc explained to us that because of her age, her bones would show healing calcification clearer than it would an initial injury.

It had been eight hours since Mill put any weight on her left foot and she could communicate very clearly which foot had the, “boo-boo”. The doctor wanted her in a full leg splint for one week. She explained to us that Millie could not get the splint wet, walk, or take it off. The doctor referred us to an orthopedic specialist that would retake xrays after she’d been in the splint for a week and would re-evaluate from there; hard cast or boot. I was upset for her because trick-or-treat was one week away and her second birthday was the week after. Millie’s active and time off her feet would be difficult for her.

Mill was miserable in the splint; longest week ever. She couldn’t walk around or play. She couldn’t sleep in her own bed for fear that she would wake up and stand on the splint. She loves taking baths but those were out of the question. I caught her pulling out the cotton underneath the ace wrapping so we had to cover the splint with her dads sock. The splint made her foot so large that she didn’t fit well into her swing, highchairs, or shopping carts.

One week later, I was so relieved to find out that Millie would be given a boot and not a cast. The orthopedic doctor took an X-ray of his own and saw a tibia fracture above her ankle. Thankfully, the doctor referred to the fracture as, “stable” which meant it was unlikely for it to get worse. By staying off of it, she would heal quickly. The boot was clunky but she would eventually learn to walk with it for the duration of her healing. We were able to remove the boot for bath time and outfit changes. The boot was a part of our fall festivities but was able to be taken off just four weeks after the incident. We met with her pediatrician, who gave us his blessing to remove the boot, and he put her on a calcium supplement due to our vegan diet, just to make sure that she is getting enough calcium for her bone development. Once the boot came off, she walked differently for about a week – like her left foot was still booted.

Needless to say, my grandma hasn’t used the restroom since.

Raising and Rupturing

Raising and Rupturing

I assumed labor was the end of my gut-wrenching pain, doubling over from cramping agony, but cue ruptured ovarian cyst.

I delivered my beautiful baby, naturally. I dilated quicker than expected and therefore, could not receive an epidural. People have asked, “What does natural, childbirth feel like?” Well, have you ever been set on fire? Labor was long, exhausting, and painful but I kept telling myself that when it was all over, I’d be able to hold my precious baby. I love my daughter and I’m so grateful that she is here and healthy however, the birthing experience is not something I look back on with a smile.

Fast forward 14 weeks and I started back to work. My Wednesday was interrupted when I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my abdomen. I gasped, grabbed my gut, and leaned forward. Appendicitis? Cold sweats, dizziness, nausea – the pain wasn’t going away. I had to stop teaching, I didn’t want to pass out in front of my students! All too soon, I found myself laying in a hospital bed again with my post-traumatic-delivery-anxiety triggered.

After I told the nurse that my left arm was best for IV insertion, she persisted to dig around in my right arm, fishing for a vein. Why?! She switched arms and the IV went right in. I told her so. The saline flush had a skunky smell and the IV fluid made me feel cold. The pain meds were inserted and I immediately felt delirious. I was given additional meds to help subdue the nausea that the pain medication caused. With both medications administered, I couldn’t help but to worry about what was being filtered into my breastmilk. The doctor thought it would be safest if I would, “pump and dump” for the next 24 hours. This was an issue – My body does not create excess milk and while working full time, my storage isn’t built. I knew with this hospitalization, we’d go though every ounce that was stored.

I was wheeled into the CT scanning room and was given an iodine-contrast through my IV. My body felt warm for thirty seconds as the contrast entered my blood stream; my throat, bladder, and ears especially. Unfortunately, this was another med that one probably shouldn’t breast feed on. I was instructed to lay still as the scan took place; it didn’t take long, but the stillness allowed my mind to wonder about scary what-if’s. Once the scan was complete, I was wheeled back into my room and instructed to drink lots of water to flush the contrast from my kidneys.

I had dozed off waiting for the CT results. Wow did it feel nice to sleep without a baby. All too soon, I was woken up by the doctor with the results of the scan. Due to the amount of fluid in my abdominal cavity, he could conclude that I had a 2-3cm ovarian cyst rupture. He informed me that this is not uncommon 6-12 months after pregnancy, due hormone irregularities. Apparently, cysts occur often during ovulation but they don’t always burst nor cause horrific pain. Naturally, I wanted to know how to prevent the cysts in the future and he gave me two options; get on birth control to stop ovulation or get a hysterectomy. What?! I’m not ready to kiss my reproductive years goodbye! I also was not about to start taking birth control pills – hormone altering, cancer causing, weight gaining, mood swinging, “birth control” pills. As grateful as I was to not need my appendix removed, the possibility of painful ovulation every month was concerning.

Now, it’s just a waiting game; will the cysts return? Will they continue after I finish breastfeeding? It’s possible that if the cyst is 7cm or larger, it could twist my ovaries during rupture and cut off my blood flow to my reproductive parts – terrifying! The heating pad helped, so did hot tea and the fetal position however, dealing with that intense pain every month will significantly decrease my quality of life. The doctors don’t know the future anymore than I do, and in the meantime, I will be diligently praying big. Go away rupturing cysts; I have a life to live and a baby to raise!