And then I peed in a bed pan

Below are a few things that I never really mentioned about my birthing experience.  It’s not that I intentionally left them out…but I actually kind of forgot.  Over the last few months, details have come swimming back into my head.  I’ve questioned their realism, but these instances have since been confirmed.  I was not in fact dreaming.

Proceed with caution.  These are probably major TMI.

Just after having my IV pain medication administered, I realized I had to pee (how I realized this when my brain was off in some weird chess board world, where the playing pieces were bunny rabbits, I really don’t know – *true story*) but obviously was in no state to get out of bed at the time.  So, much to my complete embarrassment, a bed pan was brought in.  Yes. A bed pan.  Seriously, the most humiliating thing ever.  I remember getting help lifting my hips and sitting on whatever that thing was…I could barely feel it from the complete out of body experience I was in, but I remember it being cold.  And then I think I just hung out for awhile.  Eventually I must have realized that people were hanging around, waiting on something…and that’s when I think I said something like “Oh wait, I’m supposed to pee, aren’t I?”  So I peed in a bed pan.  And yes, it was awkward.  You try peeing on a bed, with you hips elevated, in a pan, all the while thinking this feels an awful lot like what I can imagine peeing in your sleep feels like. Oh and remember, I was still in Bunny Rabbit ChessWorld.

If there is one thing that delivering vaginally guarantees, it’s that ALL of your inhibitions will be thrown out the window during pushing.  At the very beginning of my practice pushing, I noticed that my nurses hands were all up in my business.  Like.ALL.UP.there.  I’d heard that this may happen, depending on my labour and delivery experience.  Maybe you’ve heard of it, perineal massage/stretching.  Well, I guess part of me always thought that it was something you asked for, or you signed a waiver for…or something?  Yay…apparently not.   For a second I cared.  I was embarrassed.  And then I remembered that she could see more of me at that moment than I had ever seen of myself before.  And I got over it.

After giving birth, while The Hubs was off giving Ariadne her first bath (seriously, I.am.so.proud that he did this, as well as her first diaper) I was hanging out with my Mum and Brother.  Throughout my entire Gestational Diabetes stint, I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I just wanted some freaking Cadbury Mini Eggs.  I look forward to them every year, and then the one season when I actually had the excuse to eat to my heart’s content…I end up being forced to ban sugar.and carbs.and fruit. basically everything worth eating. Obviously my Mum was under strict orders to bring me Mini Eggs the second that the baby was out.  So, while we were hanging out, I gorged on Mini Eggs.  (note:do.not.do.this.)  I then proceeded to throw up, non-stop for a good ten minutes.  And I don’t ever throw up, people!  But hell yes, I sat there in that hospital bed, and spewed Mini Eggs into the pink bucket over and over and over again.  Mind you, this episode wasn’t entirely due to the Mini Eggs, but mostly due to the fact that I was pumped full of millions of steroids and other things – as described below…

When you imagine yourself giving birth, you most likely think of the pushing, the baby coming out, being lifted to your chest…and the awe that follows.  You are prepared for the things that happen after birth…you know, the afterbirth but you most definitely aren’t thinking it’s going to be some big thing.  And maybe some of the time it isn’t.  But for me.  It was.  I hemorrhaged people.  Like, not the normal amount.  I barely noticed that my doctor was still hanging out between my legs while I was wrapped up in Ariadne Cloud Nine.  It didn’t phase me when she started doing the usual “belly smooshing” because I knew that was to help the placenta detach if it wasn’t coming out on it’s own.  It only started hitting me that something wasn’t normal when she was down there, with her ENTIRE arm inside of me, pulling out stuff, and saying “Oh geez, this is a lot of blood, okay, she’s definitely not clotting.”  This went on for a good ten minutes, while I tried to remain calm, watching Ariadne get weighed and measured.  It was scary folks.  I bled, and bled, and my doctor kept pulling out more stuff, for a long time.  I had nurses shoving needles in my legs, IV and putting my oxygen mask back over my face (oh yay…I had an oxygen mask.)  Eventually I asked my doc “Umm…should I be concerned??”  She said no, that everything would be fine…but umm…it just didn’t seem like it.  There was blood EVERYWHERE. The Hubs tells me it was right out of a scene from Dexter.

Of course, in the end, she stopped the bleeding, and I was as good as new.

I think it’s funny that I had forgotten about these little details.  Even though I wrote my birth story in the days immediately following, there are still things that at that time I had already forced to the back of my mind.  But every now and then I get hit with a memory and it all comes right back to me.  Flooding back to me.

It’s kind of like what I imagine peeing in your sleep feels like.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “And then I peed in a bed pan

  1. I had a lot of similar experiences (excessive bleeding, oxygen mask, etc… no chess piece bunnies, though, haha). I like to think that pre-Ryan, I was a pretty modest person. But birthing a kid leaves you no choice but to completely abandon any shred of modesty you once had.

  2. I just have to comment. Boo, you did not gorge yourself on Cadbury mini eggs… you had maybe 4….5 tops. Too much for your poor overwhelmed system at that point, but you definitely did not over-indulge by any standard.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: