The End

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Insit visceribus

I've been stabbed, had my guts ripped out, and lived to tell the tale.

Previously on this blog

The Catch Up
After meeting with a surgeon a number of times last year, it was determined that I was managing the diverticulitis well, and that surgery could be postponed.  I like to think I did a pretty good job keeping it in check.  I wasn't allowed to do a lot of physical activity, as it would aggravate the condition, but suddenly, we had to move!  Even with all the help we received, and the scoldings from Trais and Diane, I still managed to do a lot more moving work than I should have and ended up aggravating my bowels.  So after many months of comfort, I found myself back at the hospital once again.

The Problem
Diverticulosis is the disease in which pouches or sacks form along the intestinal wall due to weak lining.  Diverticulitis is the condition in which the pouches become infected and inflamed.  Almost everyone, if they live long enough, will develop diverticulosis.  Diverticulitis attacks will present in maybe a quarter of those who have the disease, most of which can be treated by diet and prescription antibiotics.  A small percentage will require surgery to correct the issue.  I always told my wife I was one in a bajillion.

I am 29 years old.  Every other comment at the hospital was: "You're too young to be doing this!"  Diverticulosis is considered a later life complication, so it's a bit rare to see it in someone my age, though I know of a few people near my age who suffer the condition as well, we are definitely the exception.


After the most recent attack, my surgeon got a bit worried as it seemed the condition was spreading and expanding.  There was some concern about how near it was getting to my bladder.  If allowed to touch, the intestine and bladder could possibly fuse together, and things would start flowing in wrong directions and through incorrect exhaust ports.  It was decided that surgery was the best option for me going forward, and I was given a date.

Getting IVs and Anesthesia

The Procedure
The surgery to be performed is called Laparoscopic Sigmoid Colectomy Resection.  I freaked out a bit (I've never had surgery before) but after watching the operation on YouTube, I felt a lot better about going forward with it.  Here is a link to the video.  It's very informative but also pretty graphic, so probably don't watch it if you get queasy! 

The way the operation works, is they punch three holes in you: two for the laparoscopic equipment and one for a camera.  They do all the work inside, then make a small incision through which to pull the intestine.  They cut the bad portion outside your body, then push the rest back in and reconnect the ends laparoscopically.  I have the two bullet point scars to each side of my belly button and one under the incision where they drew out the intestine.  They took just under a foot of intestine out.

The Hospital Stay
We showed up on Tuesday at 6am for the procedure.  Catherine took me and we met with Grandma Diane in the parking lot, what a pleasant surprise!  It was very comforting to know she would be there with Catherine.


I was given a "walking epidural" which was a mite painful to put in, and altogether very weird experience.  I don't remember much from before or after the procedure, but apparently I was very intent on getting back to Asgard to help 'finish it,' whatever that meant.

My kingdom for a spritzer!  Thanks Grandma!!

There are three items I will say were indispensable while I was in the hospital: A water spritzer, a telescoping scratcher, and my phone.  It's easy to see why the phone and scratcher would come in handy, but the water spritzer was an absolute life saver!  After the surgery, I was only allowed a small ration of water.  With oxygen hooked up to my nose, and IVs of a bunch of junk, my mouth and throat were CONSTANTLY dry and irritated.  Having the spritzer meant I could spray my mouth and throat without going over my allotment of water, it was the BEST!

Oh hateful oxygen tube!!  How I loathe thee!

Post-Op
I was up and walking the day of the surgery and on a clear liquids diet the day after.  My catheter was (thankfully!) removed the day after surgery when I could prove that I was a big boy and could pee all by myself.  The epidural was removed the day after that (second day after surgery) and I was allowed to eat soft foods.  I was released from the Hospital on Friday (third day after surgery).  In all, it went very well.

The pain is very intense.  I have pain from the incisions, the cut and re-sected bowel, the internal bruising, the split muscles and goodness knows what else.  The pain meds do a relatively good job of culling the worst of it, but I can tell it will be a while before I feel normal again.  My tummy has an odd shape now too, it's lumpy in parts and more droopy than it was before, which is a little embarrassing, but honestly, I hurt too much to care, haha.

At Home
I had grand aspirations to get things done when I got home.  Instead, I am mostly relegated by the pain to be crashed on the couch watching Netflix (Holmes Inspection Collection is the BEST!)  I'm looking forward to being productive again, I can only hope I heal quickly!

A rejection of Islam as a religion of war.

Hating on the Muslim people for the crimes of a small subset of Islamic adherents has really got to stop.  It is akin to saying all Europeans are maniacally genocidal against Jews because of the actions of relative few.  

 

Regardless of your political affiliations, it is prudent to understand the Muslim people, and the genocidal maniacs who call themselves Muslim.  Mehdi Hasan gives an outstanding speech relative to this topic, and I'm going to let him take it from here.  Take the time to be informed and get educated; watch this video.

In the end, it's not Religion, but Politics which will destroy mankind.  Ever has it been, ever will it be.

We went to the Sequoias!

Check out this tall picture!

But first, we have to make space for the stuff in the sidebar, so here are some other pictures from that trip!

Catherine and General Sherman!

Catherine and Castle Rock!

Catherine and a Tree Tunnel!

Silly tree-hugger closed her eyes!

TALL PICTURE!  ;)





The end.

About time for an update.

How do you start a post like this?  With a hook I guess.

I like this one.

Also a warning: This might be is pretty gross.

So, there I was in the hospital, talking to my mom on the phone, and she was like, "Hey, you should put this on your blog!" and I was like "Hey!  That's a fantastic idea!"

History, minus the important, world changing bits.

I served my mission in the Merida Mexico Mission between 2005 and 2007.  In Merida, two things are constant: Soccer (¡futbol!) and Habaneros.  I loved both, so we got along. 

Once, while playing a heated game of soccer with a few youths from the area, I took a hard line shot directly to the stomach while looking the other way.  I wasn't prepared for it, and I wasn't prepared for the pain that would follow, it was excruciating!  But, being the invincible person that I was, I kept playing and shrugged it off.  Over the course of the next week, the pain would intensify leading to a decrease in work and a visit to the hospital.  I was told I had inflamed my organs, and it generally felt like nobody believed me when I said I was in a lot of pain. (I like to think I hide it pretty well.)

This is the face of an invincible person.

During the course of my mission I developed a case of gastritis, like many of my companions.  Gastritis causes some abdominal pain and leaves one more susceptible to certain infections.  It wasn't too bad, so I continued to eat WHATEVER I WANTED BECAUSE I'M AN ADULT DARNNIT!

A little more than a year ago, Catherine and I were living in Logan, UT.  I was attending USU, and she was busy being awesome all the time.  I started to get really bad pains in my lower left abdomen, but just attributed that to the gastritis and continued doing what I do.  Unfortunately for me, the pain continued to increase.  After about a week of this, and a few days of no sleep, I decided to magnanimously allow Catherine to take me to a doctor and get checked out; something she had been nagging me to do but, psh, I didn't need no stinkin' doctors.

This gentleman certainly doesn't have need of doctors.  Or badges.  But especially badges.

Upon visiting the doctor, he determined that I'd need a CT scan and sent me to the ER, which I thought was dumb.  This wasn't an emergency.  CT scans are weird.  The results came back with a scolding.  I had diverticulitis, a condition where bits of the intestine bulge out, things get stuck in the bulge and subsequently get infected.  I was advised that, had I let it continue any more I may have needed an induction into the hospital and possibly a surgery.  As it was, they could just put me on some pills and send me on my way.


I've now experienced diverticulitis about ten or twelve times over the past year.  We've narrowed it down to hot sauce possibly being the root cause of my flare ups.  I also believe it's genetic as I have relatives who suffer the condition as well. **Edit: We've determined that it was caused mainly by stress and physical activity. Diet had literally zero to do with the flare ups, and dietary 'causes' could never be consistently replicated. The only thing that was consistent with my flare ups were stress and physical activity.**

So, what happened?

Recently, (the day after I got a promotion at work) I began experiencing abdominal pain unlike my regular diverticulitis pain.  Normally, I get that stabbing pain in my lower left abdomen.  I immediately begin a clear liquid diet and hit up my favorite licensed drug dealer (usually the InstaCare) for the necessary antibiotics.  However, this time, the pain was more centered, almost where you'd expect to get a UTI.  Upon visiting the InstaCare, the doc there expressed some concern that this may be worse than normal due to the shift in location.  After ruling out UTI and any other issues, I was again prescribed my Batman and Robin antibiotic pills to fight diverticulitis and sent on my way with a warning to watch this closely.  I could do no other thing for a day, a night, and a day.

Normally, after starting my clear liquid diet and first day's dose of antibiotics I usually begin to feel better, however this time was different.  The pain just kept getting worse and worse.  I was a little freaked out now because of that dire warning the first time I found out I had this condition.  On the second night, I asked Catherine to take me to the hospital.

At the hospital they performed a CT scan and found that I had developed a perforated bowel due to a weakening of the intestinal lining by the diverticulitis.  I was immediately admitted to the hospital, put on IV and advised that I would be going into surgery either that night or the next day.  Lovely.

I was every nurses favorite patient.  I'm not even kidding.

Fortunately, a specialist reviewed the CT scans and determined that my body had built a wall around the perforation.  So while painful, it was no longer dangerous.  They would keep me in the hospital for observational purposes, but would not need to perform the surgery this time around (probably).

After about 10 or so needle-pokes (blood draws, IV insertions, etc) I've now been discharged for two days and the pain, while not as bad as before my hospital stay, is still quite debilitating.  I'll take that over morphine headaches any day, though the 'phine was nice to get some sleep.  I have a follow up visit in a few days where they'll perform more tests.  Then more tests, then the Bowel Resection surgery.

Yup.  I still have to have surgery.  They are waiting until the infection cools off to perform the surgery as to decrease the possibility of complications.  They will determine which bits of my intestine are worse off because of the diverticulitis, then perform a surgery to remove about a foot of intestine and sew the rest together.  yay!

The doctor was very clear that the science behind Diverticulitis is very underdeveloped.  There are a lot of "old wives tales," (as he called them) out there regarding its cause and prevention.  Diet has less to do with the flare up of diverticulitis than weight and genetics.  The only exception to this is fiber intake, as a good fiber intake *should* help prevent flare ups in the future.  When I explained my theory, that hot sauces and spicy foods caused my flare ups, he advised that he was still more likely to consider those as coincidental rather than causative factors.  This doesn't mean I'm going to bust out my longed for Sriracha bottle anytime soon, but I will be taking Metamucil or BeneFiber or something.

It's just like this. Source.

So, I have a surgery and hospital stay to look forward to.  Bowel Resection surgery will keep me in the hospital for about 5-7 days, give or take.  I don't know how I'm going to handle that, as the three days I spent in the hospital recently just about drove me nuts.  Here's a picture of Marek in a stroller for reading to the end!

Cruisin' for the ladies.

I was thankful to be discharged in time to spend the evening of Easter Sunday with my family!

 Fin. For Now.

PART TWO!!

A mother's first talk!

Editor's Note: This talk was given by Catherine on July 28, 2013 in church 6 days after giving birth to her son.  Here it is presented in draft form.

Be Not Moved           

            Good morning brothers and sisters. My name is Catherine Valdivieso. I'm Kevin and Brenda Miles' oldest daughter and they're very kindly letting us live in their basement. For those of you who know me you might notice I'm looking a little smaller this week. Our dear son decided he could not wait one more minute to join our family and arrived feet first on Monday evening. He is 8 weeks early so he's in the NICU but he's surpassed all of our wildest expectations with how well he's doing. His lungs were a little under-developed so they had him on oxygen for the first couple days but he's off of that now and just needs to keep gaining weight and reaching his milestones so we can bring him home. His name is Marek and he's currently 4 pounds 3 ounces. Brother Webb actually called and offered to let me off the hook for this talk, but we've been so incredibly blessed through our trials that I figured the least I could do is stand here as a witness today that God really does have a perfect plan for our lives.

            The subject of my talk today is the talk by Sister Dalton that was given at the Young Women’s Broadcast this year entitled “Be Not Moved”. I had to laugh a little bit when I first heard the title because in the little over five years Navarre and I have been married we have moved nine times. Hopefully that won't continue too much now that we have a baby – the stuff that you accumulate seems to triple once you have a kid and I thought we had too much stuff to move to begin with. We've been all over Utah and down to Texas twice in all of our moves and there are three main points I want to make that connect to this idea of “Be Not Moved”. The first being – did you know that Latter Day Saints in Texas eat the same food at activities as the Saints in Utah?

Stand In Holy Places and Be Not Moved

            No, but really the first idea is the main bulk of Sister Dalton's talk which is Stand in Holy Places and Be Not Moved. Now when I heard this idea first in Young Women’s from some of the very ladies in this room, I thought obviously of the temple and church meetings and our homes as the places we should most often be found if you're living a virtuous life. Over time through the many apartments we lived in and many paths we walked I realized that a Holy Place can be wherever you are standing. Or laying, as the case was this week as I discovered what it really means to have pain that rates as a 10 as my son came into the world. Throughout the whole day even though my brain was trying to tell me to panic because it was too early and I couldn't possibly be having the baby today I was comforted and felt that I was standing in a holy place because the Lord and my husband were standing next to me holding my hands telling me that everything was going to be fine. As soon as I decided to just accept that as fact, it was like all the pressure went away because I knew that God was in charge and it was his day to drive and I was going to be happy to be along for the ride even though I didn't know where we were going. In Isaiah 49:25 it says “But thus saith the Lord, Even the captives of the mighty shall be taken away, and the prey of the terrible shall be delivered: for I will contend with him that contendeth with thee, and I will save thy children.” It seemed particularly appropriate for this week and I can say with full confidence that when God is driving you don't end up in ditches. And even if you did, be not moved because it would be a holy place.

Be Not Moved in His Atonement

            The second point is towards the end of Sister Dalton's talk and it is Be Not Moved in Your Acceptance of of the Savior's Atonement. In Ether 12:27 it says “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” When we were sitting in our last Stake Conference I was reflecting on the statement that adults make when you're a kid that you don't understand why your parents won't let you stay out all night. “You just won't understand until you have kids of your own.” I wondered if maybe the Lord would say something similar to us when we're going through the trials that don't make sense. I know the trap I always fall into is feeling guilty for not being a better person and being constantly apologetic in my prayers for things on my checklist undone. While I was thinking of this I had this moment of clarity where I imagined my son as a young man coming to me and apologizing for all the times he let me down and perhaps thinking I loved him a little less than I could have if only he'd done everything right. If only he'd done all of his chores every time or if only he'd been more diligent in expressing his love. Of course that's not true! Naturally just on merit of being my son I'd think he was the greatest thing ever already. And then to see him trying to do something and be better even though he wasn't perfect at it and made lots of mistakes would be the greatest thing ever. I realized that I wouldn't want my son to spend his life dwelling on the ways he may have offended me and worrying that every thing he did might decrease my love for him. Obviously it's impossible for me to love him any less and it would lead to a fruitless life for him. I would want him to wake up every day and just do a little better than he did the day before and live the happiest life he could choosing the right and dwelling on his goals instead of his failures. I would want him to come to me when he had a problem so we could deal with it and get him back to having a great life. In that moment I knew that that is how the Lord feels about us. He thinks we're the greatest thing ever and loves to see us succeed.  He loves to watch us try to be better people even though we make mistakes because he knows it will make us happy and bless His other children around us. So now every time I'm tempted to beat myself up about something that's not quite perfect I ask myself if that's what I'd want for my child. If the answer is no then let it go. Just keep moving forward and be not moved in His Atonement

They Shall Not Be Ashamed That Wait For Me

            My last point comes from a series of verses in Isaiah that have become particularly close to my heart this year. When I started pondering Be Not Moved it came into my mind as something that would naturally follow. It's the very last phrase of Isaiah 49:23 and it says: “for they shall not be ashamed that wait for me.” So together it popped into my mind as “Be not moved, for they shall not be ashamed that wait for me.” I know that all of us have reached that time in our lives where we feel like we're doing mostly everything right and still the blessings seem to be slow in coming to deliver us from the trial we're inevitably being squished to death by. The world and even our own families and friends question our choices as we continue in faith just waiting and waiting for the moment when the storm will break and we can start reflecting on the trials we've had instead of living through them.

            We tried for two and a half years to get pregnant with Marek because I have a rare physical malformation that we discovered only by chance the same month we found out we were pregnant. I know two and a half years is short for many people who have incredible fertility challenges but for us it seemed like forever. We finally came to the conclusion that we probably wouldn't be able to have kids of our own and were moving on to preparing ourselves to adopt. Then we found out about my condition and additionally realized it would probably be risky and complicated for us to get pregnant so we decided to stop trying for good. Two weeks later we found out we'd won the proverbial lottery and that we were going to have a baby after all. It was surreal and slightly terrifying to see our dreams that we had so carefully put away resurrected before our eyes on the ultrasound screen. It was incredible and comforting to realize that obviously the Lord wanted us to have this child at this precise moment in time and in this way. Even though the doctors warned me that I had additional risks the pregnancy was very uncomplicated and my confidence waxed strong that everything was as it should be. Even now that my son was born premature you might expect that I feel abandoned but it's quite the opposite. I firmly believe that there's a reason that he needed to come now even though I probably won't ever know what it is. Although as far as silver linings go in the meantime – my mom isn't back at work yet for the new school year and she's been able to take amazing care of me that would have been more difficult if he had come later. Also I got to have the natural child birth that I thought I wanted instead of having a C-Section at full term because he was likely to stay breech so my recovery has been fast. Most of all we've been supremely blessed by Marek's good health since the moment my water broke. We joke that he was calmer than we were the day he was born because his heart rate never wavered through the whole day of monitoring. I'm constantly impressed by the leaps and bounds in his progress every time I go to the hospital to see him. He was off his oxygen within just a couple days of being born and now not even a week later they're talking about doing away with the extra fluids he's been receiving intravenously besides his regular feedings. It would be easy to look at my life and this situation and let the bad things pile up around me until I drowned in it, but it's far more fun and better for my attitude to continue to see the tender mercies of the Lord wrapping up my little family like a huge warming blanket against the chill of despair.  So be not moved because they shall not be ashamed that wait for me.

            In conclusion I want to also mention that I have a firm testimony of tithing. Last Sunday Navarre wasn't feeling well and was at home and my feet were so swollen that they barely fit into the shoes I was wearing but I knew I had to at least come to sacrament meeting and pay our tithing. I know that because I did so we were additionally blessed this week when we absolutely needed it the most. This is something we've seen in our family time and time again – if you need something pay your tithing and watch the good things come to you even if it's in a way you might not expect. It has a funny way of solving your problems or at least helping you deal with them. Also I have a testimony that the Lord is intimately aware of us and our challenges and he knows exactly when to hold our hands and when to let us walk a few steps on our own just to teach us that we are more capable than we think. I have a testimony that the more we count our blessings instead of our problems that the problems will gradually take care of themselves and our blessings will increase. We talked recently in relief society about love languages and I know that the Lord talks to all of us in our love language if we're paying attention. I'd love to give an entirely different talk about that but I'll suffice to say that if you think about how you feel love you will see the way that God is reaching out to you in your life and it will make you so much happier to see it on a daily basis. So Be Not Moved because the Lord is already standing right next to you. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

 

In His Constant Care by Simon Dewey

A mother's perspective.

Editor's Note (Ha!  I'm an editor!  What what!): 
This post was written by Catherine.  Every so often she can be coaxed into putting down the cross-stitch writing something for the blog!  :)




My eyes opened at 10 am halfway through the nap I was taking before leaving for work. I was leaking everywhere. I hauled myself up to the bathroom with a change of clothes and was relieved it wasn't blood, but it felt an awful lot like what you hear about when your water breaks. Still leaking but now equipped with a pad I came downstairs and told mom what was happening. She said to call the doctor and they said to go down to the hospital so labor and delivery could test the fluid and make sure everything was alright. Feeling kind of shaky I called Navarre and told him I was going to pick him up from work and we were going to the hospital just to have the fluids tested.

Trying desperately to not panic I drove the longest 10 minutes ever to Navarre's work where he had already left and walked half a block towards me. I was trying not to think of the fact that I was only 32 weeks and according to my handy book I had read just 2 hours ago Marek was only 4 pounds. I couldn't bear the thought of his tiny body coming into the world today. We drove straight to AF hospital just because it was close by; I was still leaking and heavily soaking through my second pair of sweats for the day thinking "why hadn't I brought a change of clothes?"

At the American Fork Hospital, I got changed into the hospital gown and the ultra nice nurse did 2 simple PH tests that both said I was not leaking amniotic fluid. They did a third test just to be sure with a long cotton swab that they took to the lab and it came back positive. I think that was over the course of about 2 hours. At that point it seemed I was probably going to need a c-section at a hospital with a nicu to catch my poor premature son because AF didn't have a nicu. We waited for several hours for them to call around and find out where we could go; Provo and IMC in Salt Lake were both on "divert" because they were full. The baby was stable and still had some amniotic fluid left so we weren't in too much of a rush. They monitored his heart rate the whole time and he seemed even calmer than we were. Our insurance finally made a special provision for Timpanogos even though they were not in-network because we had nowhere else to go. (Timpanogos has been nothing less that stellar by the way.)

At long last the ambulance guys came about 3:30. Navarre followed behind us in the car because we were going slow with no siren. I found out that the particular ambulance we were in had no governor on the speed which I thought was pretty cool and something legitimate to think about besides all the fluid I was losing and my impending surgery.

When we got to Timp around 4pm they got in touch with Dr. Dayton who was on call for Valley OB and I was relieved because I had just met with him a few weeks earlier and I liked him. They said he'd leave his office in Provo at 5 pm and come up to see me. I was happy because finally it seemed this might be close to being over. They were trying to get me into the hospital computer and the nurses determined that I was allowed to eat. The tray came in but I couldn't touch it even though I hadn't eaten in almost 8 hours. My contractions had started the moment I hit the bed at Timp and even though they weren't that strong yet it was still enough to distract me from the consent forms I was supposed to be reading. Every five minutes another contraction would hit and they were quickly gaining intensity. Every time Navarre saw my face squinch up in pain no matter what he was doing he would dutifully come over to have his hand squished to death while I held it in a vice grip counting down the seconds and trying to breathe.

My break time between the contractions was slipping quickly from 5 minutes to 4 minutes to 3 and there was less and less time with no pain even when I wasn't having a contraction. I was starting to get concerned because I knew for regular pregnancies this was the time you leave for the hospital because your baby is fairly imminent. I also knew Marek was squarely feet down and could not come out the regular way without a little more of a fight. I was just thinking something should probably be done to either prep me for surgery or stop the contractions when suddenly my whole conscious thought exploded with pain. It built and built until my body convulsed and I could actually feel my body bearing down pushing my baby out without my consent. I yelled something about the baby coming out and I was vaguely aware of my mom disappearing and Navarre still holding my hand.

A nurse came in to check me and I think she honestly thought I was just dilated a little with painful contractions. When she actually checked her eyes got really wide and she leapt over me to hit a button behind the bed. The next words I was conscious of the nurse saying through the haze were "feet in the vagina". At that moment I knew 2 things for sure. The baby was coming out NOW probably with no pain killers and after only a little over an hour of contractions. I also realized that the wiggly feeling I was experiencing "down there" was Marek's little feet kicking back and forth. Suddenly the room was full of people and there was a nurse gripping my hand looking me straight in the eye telling me everything was going to be ok and that I needed to keep breathing. It was strangely and instantly calming and it helped slow the contractions. I was rolling around the corner to the OR desperately just trying to keep looking her in the eyes and breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth like she was saying over and over.

They transferred me to a new bed in the operating room and they put an oxygen mask over my face as my body convulsed again. They were desperately trying to get me to stop pushing because the doctor wasn't there yet, and I think they were still considering doing an emergency c-section, but my body wasn't super interested in slowing down. It was like trying to stop myself going down a water slide once I was already moving. It was getting harder and harder to look at the nurse and easier and easier just to close me eyes and scream through the waves pain but somehow I managed to hold it together. Probably because they kept insisting that the doctor would be there any minute.

I became groggily aware that Navarre was off to my left and a little behind sitting next to the anesthesiologist who was behind my head. The anesthesiologist had this really soft voice and he would update me periodically and make me feel calm. He told me that they might have to put me out if they were going to do a c-section because there was no time for an epidural. There were two nurses monitoring Marek's emerging legs and they told me his feet were really cute and crossed over each other at the ankle. The doctor finally got there and was quickly apprised of my situation.

My sense of time was questionable at best but I think he spent just a couple minutes feeling the baby and deciding we were past the point of no return. Then as desperately as they were trying to get me to stop pushing earlier they were begging me to push now. As much as it hurt it was a relief to finally give into what my body already wanted to do. It also helped that they let me scream as loud as I wanted so that's exactly what I did. I could see his little purple legs flailing in the doctor's hands and I knew we were almost there. Another push and he had one shoulder out and one more after that I felt his head pop through. After that I think I checked out. I just watched as everything unfolded so relieved that my part was over. The doctor squeezed the blood in the umbilical cord to my little baby and then a few minutes later they eased the afterbirth out completely painless. A few blurry minutes later he was placed in my arms wrapped in a little white blanket with a little white hat looking at me so quietly. I said something to him I think and kissed him on the forehead before they had to take him to the nicu to get hooked up to the monitors and warmed. 4 pounds 7 ounces, exactly the opposite of me when I was born. The last uncomfortable part was the doctor stitching up my episiotomy. The local anesthetic he gave me in a shot hadn't quite had time to fully take effect so there was just a little more pain.

Marek was born at 5:35 and I think I made it back to my room around 6:20. I already felt so much better and I was just so sleepy. They gave me an antibiotic through my IV to make sure my stitches wouldn't get infected. Around 8pm I think they finally eased me into a wheelchair and let me go down to the nicu to see Marek. He was in a c-pap machine to help expand his underdeveloped lungs and he had wires all over his body monitoring everything from heart rate to oxygen level. He was really stable and his eyes were open looking right at me. He was amazingly alert and involved with what was going on around him. He only had to wear the c-pap machine for the night and then he graduated to the regular oxygen tube in his nose. They let me hold him this afternoon and he was so warm and small. According to the staff he really doesn't fuss much at all and he slept through even us changing his diaper until he felt the cold wipe where he wiggled a little but didn't cry. He spends a lot of time on a Bili Blanket with these cute purple foam goggles to protect his eyes. Apparently it helps his mild jaundice and keeps him really warm. His legs are still really purple and bruised from the delivery but the color improves almost every few hours. I'm not allowed to nurse yet because he's still not able to suck and swallow very well but I can pump and they'll feed it to him so he can nurse eventually. He's a content little baby and we're so happy he's doing well!

Marek already into tanning.  Should we be worried?