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Where to start?
Well let’s start at the beginning of
Thursday February 23
at about 6:30 in the morning.
I got out of bed like any normal day,
fed the
dogs
then went to the bathroom.
I still had some time before my NST
(non-stress
test)
so I decided to climb back in bed.
I was supposed to be on modified bed
rest ya know.
Once back in bed I had the strangest sensation,
like I wet my
pants.
Now don’t get me wrong,
throughout a pregnancy
one may question the efficiency
of their bladder
but I had never wet myself!
I got back up, went back to the
bathroom,
decided to shower
and once I got out of the shower
I realized there
was no way I had this much urine in my body.
I woke up the hubby and tried to
remain calm,
but once the words, “I think my water broke” came out of my mouth
I immediately started to cry.
This wasn’t supposed to happen not yet.
I was
only 33 weeks.
He was calm and said, “Call the doctor” so I did.
When the nurse came on the phone I told her,
“I think my water broke because there is no way I have this much urine in my
body.”
She laughed and told me to come on in so away we went to Aviano AB
Clinic. By the time we got there I had
soaked through
1 pair of underwear,
a pair of Ken’s boxers
(don’t ask me, during
my thought process I thought his boxers would provide more absorption than
another pair of underwear),
a pair of pants,
and a towel.
I begged Kenneth to walk behind me going into
the clinic
because I didn’t want anyone to think I wet my pants.
The staff at Aviano Labor and Delivery was awesome
and so caring,
explaining to me that yes my water had broken and I was in
labor.
According to the monitor I was
having pretty strong contractions
a minute to two apart.
I didn’t feel anything
honestly.
I was still in shock over how much water came out of my body.
I was
pooling at the foot of the bed, they had to bring in a mop! (TMI?)
Since Aviano
isn’t prepared to handle a premature baby
I was informed that I was being
transported to Pordenone.
This is like
hearing your 5 star resort that you had planned on staying at overbooked
and
now you were forced to stay in the hostel next door.
So the ambulance came and
off I went.
Within in 5 ½ hours of my
water breaking Emerson was here via emergency C-section (she was breech).
So what’s the big deal about delivering at Pordenone?
First
was Kenneth was not in the room with me when I delivered.
He was not allowed in there.
I tried to just
breathe and stay strong throughout the surgery
but honestly I just wanted my
husband there.
Imagine being strapped to a bed, can’t feel your legs, and
everyone is talking in a language you really don’t understand.
Then the second horror came, I
wasn’t allowed
to see her for 24 hours.
Since she was in the NICU they couldn't bring her to me
and they didn't want me in a wheel chair
or walking
due to my C-Section.
Talk about
being set up for postpartum depression!
Rip the baby out of my belly,
stick me
in a 10x10 room without a TV
(TV’s aren’t in the Pordenone hospital),
and tell
me I can’t see my premature child.
Thankfully they bent the visiting hours so Kenneth could see more of
her.
I will discuss visiting hours
later.
Then the hunger striked.
I hadn’t
eaten since the night before.
Wonderful
friends brought food, snacks, etc
only for the Italian nurse to tell me “No
mangi domani”
(No eating until tomorrow).
Oh goodness….
Can’t see my child,
can’t eat,
no source of entertainment….
I was a hot mess.
A calm hot mess but internally I was a
mess.
Kenneth brought up an overnight
bag for me
including a computer with movies and my ipad.
However, he couldn’t stay the night
so at 9pm
prompt
the nurse asked him to leave.
Another horror:
Pain control
Pain control in an Italian hospital consisted of IV drip of
the equivalent to Motrin
and the next day
when the IV came out
the equivalent
to Tylenol.
But when they finally told
me I could walk the next day,
I did,
despite the pain.
I do believe the lack of narcotics,
and me
having to face my pain,
helped me recover faster.
Either that or I have a higher tolerance of
pain than I give myself credit for.
The next morning!
Sweet Jesus I can eat!!!
Imagine my
thoughts when they brought me this for breakfast.
A bowel of hot tea…..
And for the next day and a half
I was on a
liquid diet
so chicken soup for lunch and dinner
and tea for breakfast.
I was about to die of starvation.
Then they came and told me I could see my
daughter
but it was only 11:30
so Kenneth couldn’t go see her.
Remember I mentioned visiting hours…
yes,
Kenneth was only allowed to see her from 12-2 and 7-9.
I didn’t want to see her by myself.
I feared
I wouldn’t recognize her (I had only seen pictures)
and I wouldn’t be able to
handle seeing her in a NICU.
I was very
much blaming myself for her preterm delivery.
I felt cheated out of so many pregnancy events
and feared for her health
and well being.
So I cried, and told the nurses I wouldn’t go without my
husband
and how dare they try to break up the family unit,
why didn’t they
respect the family unit,
didn’t they understand the importance of a father in a
child’s life,
pretty much my syllabus from my Family Therapy class from grad
school.
Gotta love hormones.
At noon, my husband and I went as a family to
see our daughter.
It was a great moment.
We didn’t get to hold her until that evening
but that day
despite the
rocky beginning
was wonderful.
Three days later I was released.
Leaving her there was so hard.
Another
pregnancy dream of going home baby in tote was shattered.
But we came back
every day twice to see her
and when I felt comfortable driving
I would go in
the morning to bathe her
so I saw her three times a day.
These
were good days.
Our time was getting longer and longer in the NICU
and we
were getting more impatient to bring her home.
She had been there 10 days
when she was back at her birth weight
and
eating all the required feedings.
They
still were not showing any signs of discharging her.
However, after we showed our ‘angry American”
side,
me more so than my husband,
on day 15 she was discharged.
We’ve had her home two days now,
and looking
back on my Italian delivery,
I realize three things,
1) they do care for their
patients which ultimately is the most important things
2) my italian grew by leaps and bounds the 15 days I was forced to use it
and
3) Americans are
very spoiled by their hospitals
(and I miss being spoiled!)
****
Pictures of an Italian hospital
First there are no "birthing suites"
typically there are three women to a room,
however,
since I was American
they put me in the "American" room
(the only private room)
my 10x10 room
and there wasn't a bathroom
just a sink and a locker
If I wanted to use the bathroom
I had to walk down the hall
to the community bathroom and shower
please don't ever accuse me
of not emersing myself in Italian culture
this was pure immersion!
and since my food was tea
wonderful friends made sure we had real food
well snacks
when I was finally allowed to eat
I swear the Italian nurse wanted to take my food away!
she kept looking at it......
it's italian tradition to decorate the door with appropriate color bows, ribbon etc
of the new baby
here is my decoration thanks to kenneth's aunt, uncle and cousin!
finally a look down my hallway
and most importantly
our emerson
going home!!
