Happy Thanksgiving!

It's been a busy past couple of days, which is why you haven't heard from me since Monday - and ultimately, all is excellent!

Dylan's feeding test was Tuesday morning at 9 am. Brad and I watched the live X-ray of his successful feeding, which featured nothing more than sucking and swallowing, the two actions we were looking for. These are things we take for granted, but for Dylan, they represent huge milestones. Regardless of his surgery, his gestational age (36 weeks tomorrow) still presents challenges in these areas. We also learned that boys tend to be slower feeders than girls, and Caucasians tend to be slower than other ethnicities (not sure how that plays out here). In any case, we are thrilled with his progress.

The goal for Dylan since then has been to consume 10-15 cc's in 20 minutes about every 3 hours (perhaps contributing to his new 5 lb. 10 oz. weight!). He's been gradually meeting this goal - seemingly preferring night feedings to day feedings, though I suppose 2 days of data is insufficient to draw any real conclusions. Perhaps his most impressive take was earlier this evening, when he had 12 cc's in 4 minutes! Exciting as this is, we are not pressuring him. Right now, he's still feeding from a bottle whose nipple most simulates the real thing (this is more challenging for him, which is by design). And we will work with him on breastfeeding simultaneously - the goal here being to acquaint him with the breast more than anything else. Please note, this is probably the only time in my son's life when I am okay with him becoming acquainted with anyone's breast.

Of course, this story simply would not be consistent without some wild drama. So don't worry, things haven't been perfectly comfortable all week. Shortly after delivering, I began experiencing night sweats. It's disgusting. I don't wake up hot, which is what I would have expected. Rather, I wake up a bit chilly because my PJs...even the sheets...are more than damp and less than drenched. Combine with this the fact that the A/C is usually on (because after all, it's the end of November in Florida), and the situation can become quite unhappy.

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 5 am, feeling particularly cold. I didn't think anything of it, and just tried to go back to sleep until 7, when I wake up to pump. Then when I got up at 7, I was nearly freezing, but again, figured the whole night sweat thing combined with the A/C and the mere sound of pouring rain (which I mistakenly equate with cold) was screwing with me. So I pumped.

After I got back in bed, things quickly plummeted downhill. We were supposed to meet Brad's Uncle Jack for lunch, but I couldn't even get out of bed. I was shivering and whimpering like a homeless kitten. Brad encouraged me to get up and take a hot shower, which seemed like a good idea - only it took me 1/2 hour to get there, and then did absolutely nothing to warm me up. After wrapping me in several layers of clothing, Brad put me back in bed and doubled up the covers on top of me. He called Dylan's nurse at my urging, in hopes of some advice - not surprisingly, none was given except, "You should call her doctor or send her to the emergency room." Strike One. He then called "my doctor's office (read: Mount Sinai)," who offered, "You should bring her in or take her to emergency." Strike Two. Then he called my mom. "She needs to go to emergency or back to Mount Sinai - I think Mount Sinai makes most sense." Strike Three. I was going back to Mount Sinai - again.

In the meantime, I'd taken 2 Aleve, and frankly, I don't remember a whole lot transpiring over the next hour or so. All I know is that when I did wake up, I'd stopped shivering - and eventually, I was able to shed most of the layers.

Around 1:00, my mom and I headed back to Miami Beach while Brad went to spend time with Dylan. Thankfully, I did not have to wait long before seeing the doctor, who confirmed something I wish I'd known, oh, I don't know...last week? Yeah, so as it turns out, a dull and persistent stomach ache is in fact not par for the course with a C-section. That's called a uterine infection, or endometritis, for which I met 5 of 7 noted risk factors - who knew? Not the Mount Sinai doctors, apparently. Awesome. So all this time, when I struggled so severely getting into or out of bed, it wasn't because I was "slow to recover." It's because I was "infected."

2 days into the 5-day course of antibiotics, I already feel amazing. And not that fake amazing I experienced that would last for a day here and a day there. I enjoyed Thanksgiving today with Brad's cousins nearby, which was fantastic. What a treat to enjoy the holidays with family, despite being so far from home. Frankly, I even look a lot better - but that may be the new boobs I'm sporting. Come on, I deserve that small victory.

Upon doing the laundry tonight, Brad discovered 2 pairs of disposable hospital underwear! They are now washed and ready to be worn, believe it or not. I have no idea how they made it into my bag back home from the hospital, but you know what? I'm going to go ahead and wear those puppies, at least overnight! As it turns out, they're really freakin' comfortable. And I deserve that.

It's Not Gas - I'm Smiling!

While Dylan's health improves, so does mine. I actually got into bed last night like a normal person instead of a disabled 90-year-old, and got up similarly comfortably. When I got ready this morning, I even blow dried and flat ironed my own hair - and lo and behold, I look like myself again (okay, minus the volleyball that's deflated from a basketball in my belly)!

Today, we met our friends Callista and Peter for lunch. The universe is a funny place. According to the original plan, their wedding was the one we were headed to more than a month ago after our few days in Miami. While we are so sad to have missed the big event, we can all agree we were best off in Miami vs. Grafton, IL given the circumstances (despite the number of OB-Gyns and Neo-Natologists in attendance). In any case, what are the chances that this pair, who got married more than a month ago in the midwest, have been living in Liberia, Africa for the past year, and are returning to Swaziland, would be spending time with family in Delray Beach, FL?

I actually enjoyed the brief feeling of being on vacation for the first time since waking up the morning of October 12th. We lunched at a cute little spot right on the water here in Hollywood where the portions of burgers, chili cheese fries and the like were HUGE - couldn't have been happier about that. I also couldn't have been happier about the key lime pie we ordered - twice. So yeah, while I never said, "I'm eating for two," now I can say, "I'm soon to be someone else's sole food supply, and from what I've heard, that burns 600 calories/day - so bite me."

The best news of the day came when we learned Dylan's feeding is going to be tested tomorrow at 9 am! The jury is still out on whether the feeding will come directly from me or one of the many bottles I've been storing at the hospital (I was actually congratulated by one of the nurses today on my ample supply). Regardless, it's very exciting, because the outcome of this feeding will largely determine what happens next for all of us - so please think good thoughts!

Stay tuned for tomorrow's update...

Happy One Week!

The past couple of days have been excellent for Dylan. When I met Brad at the hospital yesterday afternoon, the wonderful man we now refer to as "Uncle Richie" was there. Uncle Richie, or more formally, Richard Auerbach, is the reason we ended up at Joe DiMaggio Children's Hospital in the first place. Our friend TP's uncle, Richie reached out to us the second day we found ourselves in this scary situation back in mid-October. He never let up, checking in on us and providing great advice and simply acting as a sounding board on at least a weekly basis. As an administrator here at the hospital, he assured us of its excellent neo-natal program, and in the end, there was no question this was where we should have Dylan transported for the surgery. Jackson Memorial, the alternative hospital suggested to us by Mount Sinai's Neo-Natologist, is a large county hospital in Miami renowned for its trauma center - but it just didn't seem the best fit for Dylan. We are so happy to be where we are - thank you, Uncle Richie!

Yesterday, not only did Dylan come off of the photo-therapy treatment for jaundice (so no more cool sunglasses), but he lost his nasal air flow tubes and was moved to a private room! The private room is absolutely beautiful and comfortable, allowing Brad and me (and my mom, who still remains with us) to relax with Dylan 24/7 as we wish. But the best thing about it is it's indicative of his significant health improvement. The private rooms are lower maintenance, still with assigned nurses and constant monitoring, but they are not in the primary area of the NICU. Frankly, this room is nicer than either my Labor & Delivery or Post-Partum rooms at Mount Sinai - the only thing it's missing is a TV (though Dylan provides us with ample entertainment)!

Dylan has continued to progress today. All of the tape that was once holding down his nasal tubes has been removed from his face, after proving he could make it 24 hours without the assisted air flow. In fact, relatively little remains on his body except for his diaper (which has been sized up). His weight is now up to almost 5 lbs. 2 oz., and let me tell you, this kid is ready to eat. He sucks on his pacifier with a vengeance!

Tomorrow, the doctor will examine Dylan to determine his final course of treatment. We're very hopeful that the prognosis will be positive and he'll be allowed to start feeding. Then, it's only a matter of time before we're on our way back home!

Hands-Free and Pants-Free

Recovering from a C-section is a rocky road. One day, you feel great and like your overall pain and movement is totally improving - the next, you feel like you've endured...well...major abdominal surgery. Go figure. So today is one of those days when I'm not feeling quite as up and about, and thus decided to get some more sleep, rest with my feet up, and meet Brad at the hospital later. It's tough, because despite the fact that I'm struggling with my own recovery, I feel very guilty not being by Dylan's bedside 24/7.

Meanwhile, as you all know, one thing that I continue to do for him seemingly all day, every day, is pump. It's not a particularly enjoyable experience, but as you may recall from my previous post, I've learned how to make it as productive as possible for myself (beyond the whole me being milked like a cow thing).

Yesterday, what I perhaps hadn't yet learned was just how conscious of my wardrobe I must be for this exercise. I pump both at our "home" and at the hospital. It's still very warm here in southern Florida, and dresses are all-around more comfortable than anything else (note the discharge day mistake of wearing yoga pants - not good). So I'd pulled on a long, knit sundress over a tank top for the day. This would also work well for my trip back to Mount Sinai (the last!) to have my sutures removed, and transition nicely to dinner, when we met up with Brad's cousins.

As I sat down at the hospital for my first opportunity to pump since getting dressed in this get-up, I set myself up as usual - diaper bag with my supplies beside me on the floor and feet elevated on an ottoman. I then went to pull my arm out of the dress sleeve hole - not budging. I tugged harder. Still, nothing. I ratcheted the dress up a bit and tried the other side. Zero movement. Now I'm writhing around in the chair like Houdini trying to escape a straight jacket.

Finally, after beads of sweat were forming on my forehead, I realized what I had to do. I had to take my dress off. Completely. No longer was I behind the curtain of a pumping room - I was behind the curtain of a full dressing room. And so I stood up sheepishly, and did what had to be done. Then, to avoid resting my ass directly on my chair, I wrapped the dress around me. Did I mention it's freezing in the room? Now shivering, I proceed to pump - hands-free and pants-free.

Mortifying? Yes. Liberating? No.

Horrifying? Yes. Exhilarating? No.

Humbling? Yes. Satisfying? No.

And so another day, another lesson learned.

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.

Free At Last!

I'm writing this on a cocktail of 800mg of Motrin and who knows how much Percocet. So we're going to make it very, very brief before I pass out and/or say something awkward - like, awkward, even for me.

I'm being discharged tomorrow - Halelujah! And Dylan's surgery is scheduled for late morning at Joe DiMaggio's Children Hospital about 1/2 hour away in Hollywood. He should be in excellent hands there.

Tomorrow, Brad and I, plus my mom and his brother Todd, will move into a condo a couple of miles from the hospital. The hospital is also providing us with free, on-campus housing that we will use simply for basic conveniences.

We expect Dylan to fully recover and be ready to head home in 2-3 weeks if there are no complications. So that Thanksgiving arrival date is no longer on the horizon. But hey, we've been here this long...what's a little while longer?

Stay tuned for more updates from this incredible saga. While my posts will no longer feature long diatribes about molesting nurses and general invasions of privacy (the USC chop-chop doctor walked in on me pumping today - behind the drawn curtain in my room - even after I'd hollered, "One moment please!"), I'm sure the residents of Hollywood, FL will offer plenty of food for thought...

Dylan Zachary Presner - 4lbs 15 oz. and 16 in.

Last time we talked, I was preparing for my second induction on Sunday. And then, you may have noticed I went MIA. So what a wild ride it's been...

On Saturday, you may recall I was 1 cm dilated. Well, on Sunday, I woke up and immediately went back on the Pitocin. The contractions felt stronger and were properly spaced. But two more exams that day revealed that I was still just 1 cm dilated, with no change in my cervix. In other words, there was no way I was going to deliver a baby vaginally. So after more than 24 hours preparing for and trying to induce labor, the game plan changed - which I was ready for.

After speaking to the anesthesiologist about my pain management options, it was determined that I'd have a spinal block. The advantage of this method over the epidural is that it supposedly more intensely manages the pain.

Around 4:30 pm, I was wheeled back to the operating room. I was very nervous, simply because no amount of preparation can really ready you for surgery. But the doctors and nurses made the experience as pleasant as possible, playing music and making conversation. Frankly, it was a real party in there, with about 8-10 medical team members in the room.

You receive a spinal block by sitting on the edge of the operating table in a c-curve position. This is actually more uncomfortable than the administration of the drug, because you have to remain like this for 10 minutes. They numb the lower area of your back, and then inject you - but only after a lot of other steps have been taken. I suppose it's a good thing they take their time stabbing you in the spine.

After the drug had been administered, they had me lie down, and shortly thereafter, I began to feel the sensation of the drug. My legs were getting numb and tingly. "Great!" I thought. "It's working." After a few minutes, they performed a series of prick tests to determine whether or not I was fully numb. Um, yeah, so I wasn't. "No big deal," they said. "You're tall - it'll take longer." Okay, fine. Another few minutes pass, and I feel more pricks. After a few rounds of this, one thing became clear - the spinal block failed me, and we'd have to move to Plan B.

Plan B sucks. It's general anesthesia, and was mentioned to me pre-surgey only as a "last resort" that carried with it a series of drawbacks - the main one, in my mind, being that I'd be out for the entire procedure, and Brad could not be in the room. As it turns out, it also sucks because it only lasts for as long as you are unconscious, which means that as soon as you wake up, you feel all of the pain - more on that later.

At 5:36 pm, Dylan was born. I woke up in a recovery room (which I initially thought was the operating room, simply remodeled), where it was expected I'd be for 2-3 hours. However, I was in such severe pain, and being treated with so many different pain medications, that I was there for 8 hours. I suffered like I have never suffered before. The worst pain came with the contractions I was being forced to have by the Pitocin they administered. The reason for this is that the uterus needs to keep contracting post-delivery, and decrease in size. Unfortunately, with every contraction, I experienced a horrible muscle spasm that made my entire body shake in agony. They tried at least 4 or 5 different pain meds to soothe me - including Morphine - and none of them worked.

At 2:00 am, after coming in and out of painful consciousness, they broke protocol and wheeled me back on my stretcher to see Dylan in the NICU. This truly wiped away the pain. Holding his little body in my arms was a transformative experience I cannot describe.

After the first sleepless night in my new postpartum room, I awoke to the same pain. Not until mid-afternoon did I finally get some relief, largely as a result of Percocet and the cessation of Pitocin. I finally got out of bed and on my feet around 5:00, with a great deal of nurse help. And then came the sweet reward - another visit with Dylan, this time with Brad.

On the second day, he already looks so different! His cone-shaped head and crooked nose, apparently the result of him having wedged himself face-up in my pelvis (and the reason my cervix never changed) are quickly correcting themselves. He also began receiving phototherapy for mild jaundice, a very common newborn condition.

Dylan is definitely a fighter. He received a perfect 9/9 Apgar score - pretty atypical for a preemie. In fact, the one problem he does have is unrelated to his young gestational age. This week, Dylan will undergo surgery for Esophageal Atresia and Tracheoesophageal Fistula. Essentially, his esophagus does not connect to his stomach, which means that he has to be fed intravenously. It is a serious but straightforward condition to treat, and the sooner it is taken care of, of course, the better.

It has been a very long road, but I'm confident that the past 5 weeks and the weeks ahead will only make me stronger and even more appreciative of so many things. We're excited to get back to San Francisco, but we're taking it one day at a time.

Thank you, once again, to all of you for your support!