Week 10: Surgery...tomorrow???

Well, the recovery road continues...

I knew that this day was a possibility as I went into my doctor's appointment Tuesday June 24 knowing deep down that this new cream hadn't worked, that my body hadn't somehow changed it's mind and started to heal itself like it should have long ago.

I guess I should back up a little, as some don't know the full history of my recovery issues.  From about 10 days postpartum I have been in and out of doctor's offices on a weekly if not daily basis.  Whether that be my OBGYN, the lactation consultant, pediatric appointments for Charlotte, or tongue tie procedures; we have been on the go from early on.

My OB noticed from around week 4 that my tear was not healing as it should and started interventions at that point.  I had also done some things on my own, including sitz baths, using essential oils, resting as much as possible.  But even with medical interventions, my tear was not healing.  They would have me try something new for a couple of weeks and then come in for a follow up appointment, where minimal, if any, progress had been made.

At week 9 my OB thought that we should go ahead and schedule surgery to assist in repairing the tissue.  She had an additional doctor come in for a second opinion and he suggested estrogen cream for one more week, and if no improvement at that point, surgical repair would be the final step.  So, I went in for my follow up on Tuesday and she said, "How's tomorrow work for you?"

It's been three days since my surgery and it somehow still feels like a dream, that this isn't really happening to me, and I'm ready to wake up from this nightmare and be back to normal.

I've never had surgery before, never had to be put under anesthesia for anything, so I was nervous to say the least.  My biggest concern was nursing Charlotte, and keeping my supply up if I had to take a break from feeding due to medications.  My doctor reassured me that I would be able to feed her once before going into surgery, and that I may have to pump and dump once, but then could go back to our normal feeding schedule.

With only 24 hours notice, I started pumping every session I was nursing Charlotte on the opposite side (BIG thanks to Elisa for sharing this advice with me!!).  I wold be gone for about 6 hours and wanted to prevent giving her formula as much as possible.  I know giving her formula isn't that big of a deal to most people out there, but it does in fact give her a bit of digestive issues, and I just feel better feeding her my milk.  So, somehow, I managed to pump nearly 10 ounces by the time I left for the hospital.

My mom, without hesitation, immediately came up to help us out.  She stayed home with Charlotte while Jeremy and I made the all too familiar trek to the hospital.  We had to check in at 1:00 pm on Wednesday and the surgery was scheduled for 3:00 pm.  I brought my pump to the hospital and was able to pump just before they wheeled me back.

My doctor came in first, after the pre-op nurse took my vitals, put in my IV and prepped me for surgery.  She reassured me again that I would be able to nurse Charlotte after pumping and dumping once and I felt relieved. She answered all of my questions honestly and matter of factually.  The anesthesiologist came in next with the nurse who would be with me during surgery.  I do feel it's important to note that he was male (and has no idea what breastfeeding and formula mean to an exclusively breastfeeding mama).  I asked him when I would be able to feed Charlotte next and he told me 24 hours after surgery.  I immediately started crying.  He explained why, and the nurses asked why I was so upset.  Other then the fact that I wouldn't be able to feed my daughter, I was scared.  I didn't know what any of this would be like, how would recovery be this time around, would this surgery actually work?  So, she offered to give me something to calm me down.  I kissed Jeremy goodbye, and they wheeled me back to surgery.

I don't remember much about the operating room.  I recall them saying they would put an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth and it would smell like a beach ball, but don't remember that actually happening.  The next thing I remember, I was was waking up in the recovery room crying.  The nurse asked what was wrong, and I said I just wanted to be able to nurse Charlotte.  She was...a witch to put it nicely.  She said something along the lines of, "why do you want to give your baby all those drungs?!"  Thanks for the empathy lady, I appreciate it!  I asked over and over for Jeremy and she said it would be an hour before I would be able to see him.

Thankfully another nurse came on shift and was so much more pleasant and helpful; amazing actually.  She immediately put me at ease and assisted Jeremy with getting me ready to go back home.  Jeremy said my doctor came out and talked to him, explaining everything had gone well.  That they didn't have to take out as much tissue as she though she was originally going to have to, and said she would call me later on that evening to check up on me.

On our way home she did in fact call.  She immediately apologized for the poor bedside manner of the anesthesiologist.  She explained that she called the anesthesiologist that she normally works with in OB surgeries (who by the way is a woman, and was out of town on vacation) and explained to her what medications I received and at what dosage.  This anesthesiologist said what my doctor had originally told me.  Pump and dump once and get back to nursing my daughter.  I have never felt more taken care of by a person in the medical field as I did at that point.

So where do we go from here?  My doctor explained to me that she believes I will heal in about two weeks.  So, I made my follow up appointment and we'll just have to wait and see.  I know that this is a very minor set back.  I didn't have any problems conceiving, my pregnancy was pretty uneventful, and although I had a long labor, I came home with a beautiful baby girl.  I'm otherwise in great health, but I can't help but feel as though my body has betrayed me.

Tuesday night, the night before my surgery, I laid in bed nursing my daughter and crying to my husband.  Not understanding why this is happening to me.  What lesson am I supposed to be learning from all of this?  Patience? Understanding that everything isn't in my control?  It just doesn't seem fair.  I'm not holding my breath this is going to be a fix all, it hasn't been that way up until this point.  My glass is half empty.  I don't want to get my hopes up and go back in two weeks just to hear it hasn't gone as well as I hoped it would.

Good vibes my way would be much appreciated!