Illy: In the Hospital.

Illiana Lillian Aiossa was born a bit before the end of the last post, or September 6th, 2009 at 3:02AM. She weighed in a 7 pounds 5 ounces, and measured 19.5 inches long.

I was transferred from recovery to the maternity department of the hospital at about 5:30AM. Rob and Illy had gone to the nursery to give me a chance to recover a bit, and since the shaking had subsided I was getting quite excited about this.

As the wonderful nurse parked me in my new room, the "mother's nurse" assigned to me was getting the room in order.

At about the same time as I was arriving, LeRoy showed up with McDonald's for Rob. My new nurse was a bit rude, telling him he couldn't have the food in the room since it was rude to eat in front of me (I couldn't eat or drink anything that day because of the surgery). I told her to back off, it was fine ... and then realized she thought LeRoy was the husband and father ...

As LeRoy went to find Rob and Illy, I waited, getting my vitals checked and closing my eyes every now and then. The effects of the epidural had not yet waned, and I was quite groggy still.

Suddenly, I heard Rob's voice and I was terrified he had left the baby in the nursery alone, but he assured me she was right behind him ... and in she came. Baby Girl Aiossa, my little Illiana. It was time for a proper introduction, and a proper introduction we had.

I stripped her down to her diaper and held her close, tucked nicely next to me, warm as could be. We attempted nursing a bit, and I held and cuddled her. We took pictures and basked in the beauty of our little girl.

Eventually LeRoy headed home to finish sleeping, and Rob's Mom arrived ... I remember trading Illy back and forth with Rob and his Mom, each of us taking turns welcoming her into the world with all the love a baby could ever want.

The first day seemed to take forever. I remember I wanted to send an email with Illy's picture from my phone, and it took me 8 hours! There were so many interruptions, not to mention the struggle against the pain meds. And did it hurt!

Actually, the pain was normal, but it was the frustration of wanting to sit up to hold and nurse Illy, but I couldn't quite get my tush back far enough to feel I was sitting up (because the c-section incision hurt) ... that was the worst!

Eventually it was time to get out of bed and walk, and so I did with a lot of help from the tech on duty. Out of bed and into the bathroom to clean up ... there was a lot of bleeding, and it tickled to have the tech squirt warm water down there! After changing my bottoms and getting into a new gown, I got to shuffle down the hallway with Rob at my side, Mom watching the baby.

Dosing on and off the whole day, at some point I had to ask for some oxygen. The pulse-ox monitor kept alarming when my saturation would dip below 90, and for some reason I had apnea ... every time I would dose off, my oxygen would dip and the alarm would wake me up (as well as the need to breathe!), so I requested some oxygen to help avoid this vicious cycle so I could get some rest. It did the trick!

We had a visit from the lactation consultant, and I remember being frustrated at all the "helping hands" around. I just wanted to be alone with the baby to get the hang of it, but at the same time, I was truly in need of help because of the c-section incision. Lifting and shifting positions was a real struggle at that point, and the exhaustion didn't help either.

At some point the day mushed into night and Mom left to sleep. A nurse had given me some broth, which was the tastiest thing I can ever remember ingesting! I was STARVING.

Rob and I kind of dosed in anticipation of 3:00AM, when they would de-catheterize and IV me, which meant I wouldn't be on a leash!

As Rob passed out from exhaustion, I had baby Illy in my arms, tucked away nicely under a breast ... I was ready to nurse at her prompting.

But for some reason, I barely remember nursing her the first couple of days. I think perhaps its because of the sleepy reflex of a nursing mother on drugs the first few days after a c-section birth. Apparently, one of the ways you can tell your baby is nursing well is if you get extraordinarily sleepy during the first feedings of colostrum.

Perhaps it was my first time out, and it just didn't occur to me to feed her as much as I should have... Or, as I've been taught by my La Leche League Leaders, the baby's stomach is the size of one of those little bouncy balls you can buy from one of those gum-ball machines at the grocery store for $.25. It doesn't take much to fill it. I remember I got her latched on a couple times the first day ... and she ate and ate and ate ... latched for 45-minutes at a time!

But when it was time to nurse on Day 2, for whatever reason nursing just wasn't clicking. Unfortunately, it was Labor Day, and that meant I wouldn't be having a nursing consultant... So poor Illy ... she would try to scream though she could barely do so her throat was so dry ... and I would try to feed her but couldn't get her latched on ... and then she would cry and I would try to comfort her in other ways ...

That night, Illy's nurse suggested that I pump for her ... that way she could take the colustrum from a bottle ... I didn't want to bottle feed her because I didn't want her developing nipple confusion; so I had the nurse give the colustrum to Illy in a cup. The nurse was impressed with how much colustrum I was able to pump, and Illy did just fine taking it in a cup ... and so I continued pumping every three hours for 20-minutes.

The next day I had a great lactation consultant help me ... she got me set up with the greatest invention in the world; the nipple shield, and it did the trick. We were better able to get Illy latched on and eating ... and she was a happier baby for it! (I never knew I had short nipples...) Unfortunately, the lactation consultant couldn't be there for every feeding; and that meant we had to struggle with a lot of frustration and crying (screaming) on Illy's part when she was hungry. So I continued to pump; but I also continued to offer the breast before the pumped colustrum.

The evening and night of Day 3 was very difficult for Rob and me. Struggling to feed our baby at the breast, Illy had an older nurse who felt it her duty to educate us ... and to prepare us that since our baby was jaundiced (slightly jaundiced; nothing to break out the UV lights over), that we shouldn't be surprised if the doctor ordered her to have formula in the middle of the night. Oh, and she was concerned because Rob wasn't supposed to give her colostrum from the cup; only the baby's nurses were supposed to do that, and she didn't want to do that because she felt the bottle was better; perhaps I was too doggedly pro-breastfeeding so she was there to "prepare me" to give up on my dreams of exclusively breastfeeding. What a BITCH!!! According to her, since we had already introduced the nipple shield, an artificial nipple, then we should have no qualms giving her a bottle ... and that she needed formula to help her poop to get rid of the jaundice.

So, I have a lot of respect for most nurses. And I don't hold some notion that doctors have some all-knowing power after putting in their dues at med school. Nurses are there in the moment and can sometimes have a lot more insight into patient care than the doctors themselves; doctors rely on nurses for this reason! But this nurse went WAY TOO FAR, pushing a personal agenda, and presenting it as caring for her patient.

Rob and his Mom were both thankful that this nurse had saw fit to warn us of these possibilities; I on the other hand was FURIOUS. Fortunately I had sense enough to pick my battles wisely. I told her that if it was against the hospital's policy for Rob to give Illy cup feedings, and she didn't want to do it, then she could have a bottle. But the bottle had to be of MY COLOSTRUM or MILK; NOT FORMULA!!!

Despite my rigid breastfeeding stance, the nurse had managed to rattle Rob and me, and we spent that night frightened that our baby was starving to death and at risk for developing a severe case of jaundice. Add to that the exhaustion, and we were at odds with each other ... bickering a bit because of my relentless dedication to giving our baby that liquid gold ... and only that liquid gold ... that can only be found from the mother's breast. I continued to pump, and Rob continued to feed a very happily fed Illy the bottle ...

All that stress and my resulting tears ... fortunately, that old stupid baby nurse went home for the day, and the new baby's nurse reassured me that the baby was fine; but given my state of unrest, she suggested that she take the crying baby for a few hours ... from 2:00AM to 5:00AM so that Rob and I could get some sleep. Having sworn that I didn't want to be separated from my little one in the hospital, actually, the break was well-timed! And hell, if we were giving her the bottle, why not a pacifier too!

After 3-hours of dead sleep, the nurse did as she promised and brought Illy back into the room ... a sleeping bundle of joy, content with a pacifier in her mouth. I needed to get up and walk again, and I managed to get out of bed by myself ... and to my delighted surprise, my boobs were hurting!!! YAY, MILK!!! And they were hot, too ... I had been warned about the heavy, full, tender feelings ... but the warmth surprised me. I massaged my boobs as I walked; passersby be damned!

When I got back to the room, I pumped, and man did I pump ... those babies produced a ton of milk. My milk product was increasing exponentially at that point!

After pumping, I fell back to sleep ... Rob and Illy had a head start and I was lulled by their alternate breaths.

Sometime close to 7:00AM, a midwife from the Birth Center came in and asked me if I was ready to go home ... It was Wednesday Morning, and Illy had been born on Sunday morning ... although it had been the plan to go home that day, when I was given an option, I told the nurse that I wasn't ready ... Was it the pain? No, I just didn't feel ready ... I was scared, and I needed the nurses and the lactation consultants I told her. So she said I could go home the next day instead.

Poor Rob ... The pediatrician came in a little later and said "you're going home today, right?" Rob said yes, and I shook my head no ... Rob was surprised, and the doctor said, "Well, you know the baby could have gone home two days ago ... you're only here because of you." I asked about her jaundice and he said, she's fine! The jaundice was only ever slight and hasn't increased at all. He was surprised the nurse had made a big deal of it. This was a relief; and also infuriated me even more; I had WORRIED and WORRIED for NOTHING!!! Of course, this is par for the course when you're a parent; but still ... that nurse!

Rob, along with his Mom, convinced me that we should go home that day; and so I got the nurse to change the chart and get the obstetrician to release us ... it was time to take our baby girl home.

And so our lives as The Aiossa Family had begun...

Labor Day ... During Labor Day Weekend!

Saturday, September 5th, 2009 ...

Scheduled to go to the Birth Center and have our water broken, we got up ... I did some more induction stuff (treadmill, pumping, and popping those sweet little homeopathic pills) and got our bags and things together. Finally, FINALLY, it was time to go to the birth center.

When we arrived, the nurse hooked me up for some fetal monitoring ... then the midwife arrived, and we got started. At 10:30 she checked me, and then broke the bag of waters (which we have on video ... from my perspective). Of course I had no idea what the water breaking experience was going to be like ... it was quite gross, actually. The smell was awful, and the stuff just kept coming and coming ... DISGUSTING. I kept going through pads and pads and pads ...

The contractions picked up a little ... but I didn't really have my first labor contraction until about 11:15 when I laid myself down to take a nap. As soon as my head hit the pillow my uterus contracted and I was jolted and taken aback by the intensity. I remember it was frightening. I immediately knew that lying down was NOT the way to go ... I had to get up, but I didn't want to move, I was paralyzed by the sensations. So I started my groaning ... and thus began my ritual of burying my face into Rob's belly to make it through each contraction.

Still sporadic, the contractions came and went ... we walked outside in the parking lot, and around the Birth Center ... making it our home. I ate some lunch, and we had some visitors come to be there for us. More walks and face plants into Rob's belly ... things progressed fairly well through the afternoon. I remember being frustrated if too long went between contractions ... I was so ready to GO ... how silly of me!

The contractions started to seem a bit much for the birthing ball and Rob's belly to handle ... okay okay, I started getting tired at about 6:00PM, so I asked to get into the tub. The water helped so much ... awwwww ... at this point, we were still hoping for the contractions to start coming more quickly and regularly, so the midwife and I talked about how I would jump out of the tub at 7:00PM to get checked and allow labor to speed up. I dreaded being checked; not only did it hurt to be examined, but that meant I had to lie down, and contractions while lying in a bed were the WORST.

Hoping for some good news, I got out of the tub and immediately contracted. And then as I was lying down to get checked, Rob heard me start to contract, which meant his belly needed to be there for my face ... but he was on the other side of the bed. He jumped out of the bed and started running around to my side but the birthing ball got in his way and he didn't quite clear it as he jumped and then tripped, nearly planting his face into the tile. Watching this in slow motion, it seemed, my contraction stopped in its tracks as I wondered if my hubby was going to need medical attention himself. It later occurred to me to take a picture of his injuries!

Once I was sure that he was okay, I contracted again when the midwife was checking me ... 5cm ... not the best news, but okay. At that point, my contractions went wild. They were right on top of each other, and I was desperate to get back into the tub. But needing to make more progress, I managed to wait a bit longer ... finally, at 7:45 I got back into the tub, but this time it didn't afford the same relief. Rather, I said to the nurse, "I thought there would be more time between contractions." Instead, I moaned through one right on top of the other ... and with these contractions I was feeling the pressure in my pelvis more and more ... the sense of urgency was worse than the pain. I think this was the first point when I thought to myself "What did I get myself into? I wish I was in an operating room, feeling nothing ..."

At that point I asked for some pain relief, and my midwife administered a narcotic of some sort via injection. Nope, didn't work. At this point, I got back out of the tub as I was getting more and more desperate for a break ...

I asked for more of the pain reliever, and the midwife said she wanted to give me an IV for fluids first, but couldn't find a vein to do so (I'm a tough stick). It must have been about 9:45PM at that point, and I was at the end of my rope. Rob had been by my side through every contraction, and since there was hardly a moment between them he hadn't had a chance to hydrate, nourish, or relieve himself for a few hours. The midwife abandoned the IV and gave me the second shot, but I wasn't finding any ease to the edge of the pain or urgency at all.

The time had come and I asked the midwife, "Is it too late for an epidural?" She told me no, but stuck to the birth plan and tried to convince me that this was all part of a normal labor ... She told me that based on my contractions I must be in transition, and that was the worst part of labor ... "You can do it, you can do it," and "You're doing a great job," were her mantras. As she was walking down the hall to get the nurse so they could attempt an IV again, I looked up at Rob and said "I want to go to the hospital." Rob had no interest in trying to convince me otherwise at that point, and he jumped off the bed and went to find the midwife to tell her we were going to the hospital. The midwife came back and said "Let me ask you one question. If I told you that this is the worst part of labor and it's almost over and you'll have the birth plan you asked for, would you still want to go to the hospital?" I looked her dead in the eye and said "I want to go to the hospital."

Rob started running around to grab the necessities from the room and round up his Mom (who had arrived at about 1:00PM) to drive us to the hospital (right next door). All the while I was contracting and moaning and crying for help ...

As we got to the hospital, I remember dreading how long it was going to take to get relief. Now that I had made up my mind, I couldn't get that epidural fast enough! I remember being frustrated that I had to sign the paperwork before being seated in a wheelchair ... and then frustrated that we didn't know where to go when Rob was pushing me through the hallways ...

We were rescued by some nurses who led us to the room where I was to get that never-wanted-so-much epidural ... I had to lie in a bed and be hooked up to all the monitoring devices as the two and three nurses scurried around to help me ... At this point I was flat out begging for the epidural, and the nurses kept explaining to me what they were doing and that the anesthesiologist was on his way ...

Once I was hooked up to the monitors, the nurses were all impressed that I was contracting every sixty seconds for sixty seconds ... with no break between contractions! At this point the midwife arrived and was also surprised at how quickly and hard I was contracting ... she called the obstetrician to come in and consult with her about a game plan.

Meanwhile, back on the epidural story, the nurse to my left was trying desperately to give me an IV because I couldn't have an epidural until I had an IV with fluids in place. She was searching in vain for a vein, and said that "your blood is as thick as mud." I remember saying "just stick me and find it later." Eventually, as she was sticking me a third time she was apologizing for having to stick me so many times ... I looked at her and said "Really? You think I care about THAT? JUST STICK ME ALREADY!"

After several sticks, finally one took and the IV fluids began their descent in the tube to my veins, and not a moment too soon. The anesthesiologist, the only one working that night, had postponed a c-section to take care of my epidural having learned how desperate I was, and in he walked. He spouted the laundry list of "informed consent" points like one of those speed-talkers at the end of a commercial, all while he and the nurses prepped me for the epidural. And just like that, a little poking here and prodding there, the well-known "bee-sting," and poof ... I was epiduralized, even as I was contracting ...

The countdown was on ... at this point, my friend and massage therapist had arrived to try and help, and her hands on me (even before the epidural took effect) made a huge difference ... Looking back, I would have had her there much sooner, before the contractions got "bad" so to speak. But those few moments of peaceful, soothing, and calming touch were much needed for both the love and encouragement.

I wasn't aware at the time, but that's about when Rob had to take a breather. Having had to be super strong for me nonstop for four hours, he was ready for a much needed break and emotional let down. A few deep breaths in the hall with his Mom and a friend apparently did the trick.

Five minutes and finally I started to come back to life. My body had been consumed by the pain of all those contractions, but I was starting to notice they weren't bothering me as much ... and then, nothing. I never knew feeling nothing could feel so good! My legs became heavy, and unless I had my hand on my belly, I didn't know if I was contracting or not. Of course I was, still, nonstop in fact.

What seemed like the next minute but must have been a little later, following the c-section he had to attend, the anesthesiologist came into the room, pausing at the door to say "Who's your friend?" I told him he would be my favorite person in the world until the baby gator was born... He checked to make sure my epidural was doing the trick, and boy was it ever!

It was at this point, about 11:00PM that they checked me again. Transition? Nope that hadn't occurred yet. I was only between 6 and 7cm ... but my contractions were CRAZY, so the midwife and obstetrician decided to give me some drugs to slow down the contractions, to give both my uterus and the baby a break. At that point they also put monitors on the baby gator's head so they could make sure the baby was handling the stress of a very stressful labor okay.

Oh yeah! There was a baby gator in there! I had forgotten up to that point ... somewhere about 7:00PM I had lost sight of having a baby at the end of the whole experience, but as I started to be able to concentrate on things other than contractions and pain, I could start getting excited (albeit exhaustedly) about the baby gator again.

Fortunately, the baby gator had survived all the commotion without incident ... not even one dip in the heart rate.

With the epidural and contraction-slowing drug on board, it was time to get some rest. I was checked again at about midnight and had made it to 8cm ... The midwife was going to go get some rest, and we were advised to do the same, with the instructions that if I started to feel like I needed to push, we should call her.

We tried sleeping, but the excitement was still winning ... so we alternated between dozing and chatting quietly in the dark room. Our Moms (Rob's Mom and my Tucson Mom, Gini) were waiting in the lobby.

At about 1:30AM I decided that I was feeling the urge to push. It seemed to take forever, but the midwife finally came in at 2:00AM to check me ... and I was at 8cm ... not great news. The midwife explained that I had stalled for two hours, and what was left of my cervical lip was feeling swollen to her ... meaning I probably wouldn't dilate any more than that. She said we could wait it out a bit longer to see if I would dilate, or we could have a c-section ...

As if to help us make the decision with less turmoil, the baby gator had a heart-rate dip ... just one, but one nonetheless. We talked about it for a minute, and decided that the c-section made the most sense given the circumstances. Our midwife called the obstetrician, who asked if I minded if she checked me just to make sure she and midwife concurred, and when it turned out that she felt the same thing the midwife felt, we started prepping for surgery.

The nurses were all doing their thing, getting me ready, and Rob had to disappear to get prepped himself. I remember the anesthesiologist the most. He seemed to replace the midwife as the medical cheerleader ... explaining to me exactly what would take place, giving me codewords so as we got to a particular point in the c-section, he could let me know things were okay ...

I was so groggy at that point. 16-hours of labor is no joke, let me tell you. I pretty much closed my eyes and let it all happen at that point. I remember Rob taking his place by my side as they started the surgery ... and the anesthesiologist telling me that I would feel this and that (pressure here, pressure there) ... and then they asked Rob if he wanted to watch ...

He told me he could see the baby gator's head ... and then as they pulled the baby out, Rob turned to me and said there's the baby, and with tears in his eyes he said "it's your son, honey." I remember saying, "It's Tebow, really? I wasn't expecting that ..." And then he leaned into me and said, "No, honey, you got your girl. It's Illiana."

At that point, I was listening for a cry, which seemed to be immediate ... then they were carting Illy over to the table to clean her up and assess her ... It hurt to try and look over at her ... my eyes couldn't go far enough to the left, but I already knew she was perfect ... I said to Rob, "She's perfect, isn't she?"

At some point they wrapped her up and handed her over to Rob, who held her close so I could take a quick look at her and give her a kiss. I sang her happy birthday song to her, which I had been planning to do (and practicing) the whole pregnancy ... and then I reminded her that the first and most important thing she needed to know was that Mommy and Daddy love her beyond measure.

That was about all I had in me. They took the baby (and Rob followed) back to our room ... and they started stitching me up. And I closed my eyes and tried to zone out. The anesthesiologist and other doctors and nurses sounded so far away as I tried to rest ... and then I realized my resting was really trying to keep from shaking. I wasn't cold (hadn't been for months, actually), but I was shaking uncontrollably, which I knew was a side-effect of the epidural.

Still shaking, they finally finished getting me all sewn up and ready for the ride back to the room, where Rob and Illy and the Grandmas waited. I was so excited to see Illy, and really quite anxious to get to her so I could nurse her ... but when I got there, I was shaking so badly that holding her was trying ... and nursing her was impossible ... After a few attempts, I told Rob that he and Illy had to let me rest, and suggested that he go with her to the nursery so that I could get her back to me sooner rather than later.

With love and kisses, they departed and I was alone in the room, darkened now ... and I could focus on not shaking. The shivering and shaking in and of itself probably wasn't that bad, but following such a stressful labor day, it was quite excruciating. All I wanted to do was to be able to hold my baby and inspect every inch of her ... and then rest ... but it was all I could do to hold still, which was all I could do to prevent very painful spastic shaking.

Finally, after nearly an hour, the shaking started to subside, and it was time to move me to the maternity department rather than labor and delivery. The nurse was very kind, and I remember thanking her for everything, and asking her to please pass on my thanks to all the doctors, particularly the anesthesiologist, for taking such good care of us.

And thus began my new adventure into motherhood ...