I've been asked by several people about my Gavin's story. I love to share it, and it usually ends up being an hours long conversation where I bring the other person to tears. I don't try to do that, I promise, but I'm pretty open and honest about it. There's your warning.
I suppose the beginning would be a great place to start, but I'm not sure where that beginning really is. I've had several pregnancy losses over the last few years. Devastating, those little buggers. So be assured, Gavin was very very very very wanted. I spent the first few months of my pregnancy with him afraid that I would lose him too. Once we got to the 20 week mark, I finally relaxed a little and started to believe that I might actually have a baby! Around that time, we had some abnormal test results that sent us to the cities for more testing, and I wrote about those visits already so I won't bore anybody with those details. As I write this, I realize there may be others with similar problems and I want to be able to help if I am able, so if there are ever any pregnant people reading this, my abnormal test results were from a quad screen, and I tested high for a neural tube defect, which turned out to not even be an issue. I find that I can't delete my words after I speak them, and I like to blog how I talk. It often ends up in random unorganized messes, but such is my life!
Anyways. Pregnancy was pretty difficult on me, physically. I literally threw up for 6 months. I had polyhydramnios, too much amniotic fluid, and that makes every aspect of life just plain uncomfortable. At the end of my pregnancy with a 2.5 lb baby in there at 32 weeks, I was measuring at 40. I couldn't sit, I couldn't lie down, if I stood for more than half hour my legs swelled to the size of tree trunks, I just hurt all the time. Then one random Monday (32 weeks and 5 days, I believe) I went for a check-up with my normal doctor and my blood pressure was 180/112 and I was apparently having regular contractions, although I wasn't feeling them. She sent me to the hospital in the cities via the ambulance service I work for, lights and sirens, with my co-workers in charge of my care. I was pretty embarrassed about the whole thing and really just wanted to go by private vehicle, but apparently I was at a pretty significant risk for a seizure or a stroke, so my doctor was having none of that idea. I got to Riverside around 4:30, Nate got there probably around 6:30. They did several UA tests, because the triad of pre-eclampsia is hypertension, edema, and protein in the urine. My first UA came back negative, and they explained to me that sometimes when your protein gets so high it kind of cancels itself out. The second UA tested it in a different way and as they expected, it was off the charts. That's about when Nate arrived, and they informed us that our baby would be arriving that night. They gave me the choice of how I wanted to attempt to deliver, but said if we tried the normal method there was about a 50% chance that he would be in distress and we would have to go with an emergency c-section. There is nothing that scares me more than the words "emergency" and "surgery" in the same phrase. I just picture mass chaos and scalpels flying everywhere.. so I chose the planned, much more relaxed surgery. (I know this is warped thinking and that's not what actually happens.) Around 8:30 pm, we were wheeled down for surgery, my first ever.
I was given a spinal block, and then the curtain went up. A spinal block is very misleading, as it turns out it only blocks pain, and everything else is very very much felt. I could feel the cutting, I could feel the pulling and yanking and I felt when they broke my water. (I also heard it when it hit the floor! No joke!) I felt when they pulled my baby out and told us he was a boy, which we already knew. 9:08 pm. Nate went over to see him as the NICU team did their thing and I got to hear Gavin squawk a few times from across the room before he got his tube put in. I remember being so happy about that tiny little cry, because it made me believe that he was going to be okay. I knew that he was getting the best care he possibly could, and everything would be fine. That was the point I finally let myself relax, and I rolled over as well as I could and threw up. They brought Gavin over for me to see and he was all bundled up so all I could see was his face. I thought he was so so tiny, but he looked good. I cried, and he was whisked away to the NICU.
That's pretty much the end of my part of the story, because that's where Gavin's begins.
I wrote earlier about the pregnant part of this whole equation, and I do have to add that as much as it sucked, I wouldn't change it for the world. I will never ever whine or complain about being pregnant, because without the 7 months of crap, I wouldn't have gotten my Gavin. I'd go through worlds of pain for that boy, if only that would help.
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