Pumping - It's a Lifestyle

Wednesday, November 18th, I was discharged from Mount Sinai Hospital after having spent approximately 1 month + 1 week as its guest. It was a very emotional experience - simultaneously joyously freeing, surreal and even perhaps a bit scary. After all, I'd had a huge staff of people taking care of my every need for so long, it was almost frightening to think that I would no longer have a button on my bed to answer my calls. But believe you me - one gets over this - quickly.

The most exciting part of the day was not my discharge - which came and went pretty quickly after Brad's family cleaned out the hospital room and transported everything to our new home in Hollywood, FL. Rather, the most exciting moment came when I got into the car with my mother, en route to visit Dylan at Joe DiMaggio Children's Hospital. We raced against all odds to make it in time to see him off before his afternoon surgery. It was a scary couple of hours once it began. No matter how much reassurance you get from the doctors, nurses and anesthesiologists, you can't help but think of this tiny, newborn body being operated on by a room full of strangers - barely yet cognizant of his new world. You feel guilty that he is no longer in your womb, yet you know he had to come out - but to this? It's a nightmare I wish upon no parent, ever.

When the doctor met us in the waiting room of the NICU with the exciting news of his successful surgery, we - myself, Brad, my mom, Brad's parents and brother - were overwhelmed with happiness. It was not long before we got to go back and visit him in his little incubator, and he looked amazing. No longer intubated, he had the tiniest scar from the surgical incision, and just a couple of tubes and bandages elsewhere so that we could really get a good look at him. He was so strong!

It is definitely true that the moment you become a parent, you stop thinking of yourself first. Here I was, only less than 72 hours post C-section, and I'm operating on 4 hours of sleep, pain meds, barely able to move without a wheelchair. I was in so much pain, but I kept going anyway because I wasn't about to leave my son at the hospital.

After finally leaving to briefly stop at home before heading to dinner around 8:30, the pain and exhaustion hit me - badly. I was like the walking dead simply trying to get from the car to the restaurant, much less trying to make it through the meal. I ate a few bites of the appetizers, and couldn't eat anything else though I had been so hungry. I was reclined in the booth because I couldn't find comfort, and what's worse, I needed to cough. You might imagine what it is like to cough after a C-section, with the adhesive residue still sticking your skin together no matter how many showers, and the sutures still fresh in the most unfortunate of bodily territory. Misery knew no better company.

Meanwhile, there was actually a funny moment. Our rental somehow lacked an adequate supply of toilet paper, but no one ever made it to the store to buy some. We realized this around 10:00 at night, and I couldn't bear to ride in a car headed anywhere but home. After Brad's brother Todd emerged from a trip to the restroom, we had an idea - steal a roll of toilet paper from them. As it turns out, Todd already had this idea, as he pulled a bunch of sad pieces of toilet paper out of his pocket that he apparently was hoarding for himself. Nice. So we sent my mom in next, with her giant bag with a button closure (critical, as not to expose the contraband), to get the goods. I may have been on the verge of death, but at least I would not have to suffer on the toilet as I grabbed for an empty roll.

When we finally made it home, it was midnight, and I still needed to pump (get clarification here). People, let me tell you - if I'm not pumping, I've just finished pumping or am thinking about pumping. As it turns out, the fact that Dylan cannot yet enjoy my milk does not mean I'm free from producing it. I must pump every 3 hours to make sure I'm ready for him when he is - and yes, that includes overnight hours. To give you an idea, after I finish this post and get ready for bed, I will pump. Then I will set my alarm to wake up to pump again. I pumped 4 times between going to bed last night and leaving the house this afternoon. And I could have squeezed in a fifth time if I'd been really aggressive.

At least now I've learned the reason for the double pump vs. single pump - hands-free! Consider the next time you receive an email or text from me, or read a blog post or Facebook update - was I pumping while it happened? Now you'll never know.

Dylan looked great today, and even had a couple of additional family members visit. His day nurse indicated that he would likely have his feeding test a day early due to his excellent progress - next Tuesday. And if he proves he can feed for 48 hours on his own, he will be discharged. We're not setting any timelines because we've learned not to get too attached to our calendars. But it's certainly exciting to continue to hear that he is doing so great. His breathing continues to be good, just getting a little extra help from some air flow through his nasal passages, and his jaundice is improving (though he looks way too cool under the tanning light with the sunglasses, doesn't he?). In fact, the only real sign of his surgery at this point is his chest tube. Once that is removed, he can be moved into a lower intensity section of the NICU.

As for me, I took care of myself by finally getting some sleep and enjoying the feeling of a real bed I can actually share with Brad, a real shower I can actually stand up in, and the semblance of a real...life. My pain level and body movement improved significantly today, and I expect when I head back to the doctor tomorrow to have my sutures removed, I'll feel like a new woman. After that, it's just a matter of time's healing (and doing something about the cinder blocks that are supposedly my feet - go figure - no swelling during pregnancy, just post-delivery).

One day at a time.