05/07 1ere semaine/ 1st week

Le 1er mai 2007, Florence Depinay est nee a 11:00 AM local (20h00 heure Francaise)
Empty weight: 8.8 Lbs / poids a vide: 4Kgs
Wingspan: 21 Inches / Envergure: 53 Cms

Il etait prevu de faire une cesarienne, vu que le dernier ultrason nous montrait un bebe relativement costaud. L'operation s'est bien passee, routine dans cet hopital qui voit quelque chose comme 500 naissances par mois. 5 minutes de preparation ou j'ai attendu dans le couloir, puis on m'a appelle et je suis reste avec Kate derriere un petit rideau cachant l'operation, et ca aussi ca a dure 5 minutes. Impressionnant de rapidite!

A l'heure ou j'ecris ces lignes, la fatigue est la. Nous ne sommes restes que trois jours a l'hopital, car c'etait difficile de dormir ou de s'occuper du bebe, etant continuellement deranger par des infirmieres pour verifier la pression arterielle de la maman, la nourrir, faire ceci, faire cela...

La tentative de donner le sein a echouer. Normalement, le lait maternel vient le deuxieme jour, mais lors d'une cesarienne, l'hormone declenchant ce processus n'est venue que le quatrieme jour, dans le cas de Kate. Trop tard pour Florence, qui a meme fini par etre un peu deshydrater, lorsque nous n'arrivions pas a lui donner assez de lait.
Nous n'avons pas abandonner cependant, car nous savons combien il est important de nourrir un bebe avec ce lait maternel, compare par les laits maternises. Du coup, nous avons achetes une pompe electrique, c'est pas forcement romantique ou attrayant, mais ca marche du tonnerre, et c'est un grand soulagement, compare avec le debut de la semaine, avec notre mauvaise experience a l'hopital.

Maintenant, on s'organise, il faut nourrir Florence toutes les 2 hrs, pomper du lait toutes les 4-5 heures, et tous ca avec une maman qui doit se reposer apres une operation chirurgicale. J'essaye d'aider le mieux que je peux, mais pour l'instand, je suis trop exciter pour dormir, etant attentif au moindre froncement de sourcils, changement de respiration, guettant la moindre gene.

En bref, 10 minutes d'enfer ou on se demande ce qu'on fout la, a 2:30 du matin, a rechauffer un biberon tout en s'endormant debout, suivit de 10 mns de plaisir, a regarder un cherubin ouvrir les yeux et qui vous fond le coeur.

C'est extraordinaire, ca donne des larmes aux yeux, et c'est superbe.

To sleep, perchance to dream...

Above is a picture of our daughter, born this past Tuesday, May 1, in this year 2007. All along the course of the pregnancy we were repeatedly gifted with a series of mundane doctor visits, a reflection of our textbook pregnancy. All was well and we were headed toward a textbook delivery approximately the 5th of May. However, in the last week our doctor sprung news that he wanted to take Florence via C-Section and he wanted to take her now. The apparent reason was born of a last minute ultrasound showing that our daughter may be 8.5 pounds, with a +/- of a pound. Our doctor, erring on the side of caution born of 15 years experience, decided we should deliver her via C-Section right away as, should she be so large, coupled with my anatomical structure, we ran the risk of shoulder dystocia, what is called the one condition of child birth that sends most doctors into sweats of panic. And in large babies, the rate of this condition jumps to 25%, with possible complications being cerebral palsy, various other palsies causing partial paralysis of the face, shoulder/arm, and possible entire side of her body. Also, she could suffer hypoxia, resultant brain damage and even death. Of course, these were worst case scenarios, but with the risk being so high (25%) it was a chance neither of us would consider. After all, why would one work so hard to create a healthy child for nine months only to take chances on her health which could occur in her first moments of life, only to ruin the rest of her life. So, we said "yes" to the C-Section.

Since the pregnancy was textbook up to that point, I had done no research on a C-Section and so did not know what to expect. I had time to do some research prior to the event and, frankly, was scared by what I read. To add to our stress we also had to change hospitals at the last second as our doctor stopped working at our original choice. Also, as we planned to breastfeed, it seemed that this idea, too, was destined to go the way of the wind. But none of those things mattered, only that our daughter was delivered safe and sound. Be damned the consequences, full speed ahead!

And so we went in on the morning of 5/1/07. Both of us were very nervous. It did nothing to allay Richard's fears of our pending future that I had to turn in an Advanced Directive with directions on how I would be willing to die. We arrived early at this new hospital, something I wanted to do to give my nerves time to adjust to the fast moving changes of late. We were placed in a room and starting procedures were started, an IV, baby monitoring, amd a disinfecting shower. We were then told that our surgery would be postponed awhile as a woman in natural labor was needing to now have a C-Section. So we relaxed a bit with this extra breathing room. However, none too late our nurse came back and announced "it's time."

Richard donned a protective gown so he could follow me into the operation and stand guard. And I was removed into the operating room to start procedures. Richard had to wait outside and would not, as it turned out, be allowed in until I was "pretty" meaning that all the gross, ugly stuff was already done to me for prep and when he walked in he would only see me laying down, wrapped in clean, white operative protective gowns and drapes.

For me, I was quite nervous. I was to receive an injection in my back called a Spinal, which, in the manner in which our anesthesiologist did it, would numb pain from my chest down. I am not a fan of needles and especially needles in my back as I had, in my past, had both severe spinal meningitis and also a car accident, both of which required multiple needle probes along my spine while fully awake, measures which were excruiciating.

The doctor did the injection and I was amazed at how soon I lost use of my limbs. Within seconds I could not move my legs and within subsequent seconds I lost movement up my body, just below my neck. The doctor warned me that I would feel as if I was suffocating, as this type of injection shuts off the lungs communication with the brain, resulting in the brain sending a 911 signal that you are not breathing. This can cause panic (!) and he warned me as a precautionary so I could practice "mind over matter" to get through the fear.

Unfortunately, I have severe reactions to narcotics and as a result began to immediately dry vomit (anyone want a C-Section at this point?). It is a strange feeling to heave, especially when you have no voluntary control over either your stomach or chest. My doctor, however, was right on top of this, as we discussed this issue right before the operation, and he began pumping anti-nausea into my IV to stop the reaction. Apparently, morphine and I will not be becoming best friends anytime soon, as the doctor had to continuously pump anti-nausea at this once every 30 seconds to get my reaction under control so they could start. But, regardless, thank God he did because he took care of the problem once and for all. I am eternally grateful. Nothing is worse that being in such a volunerable state and feeling you are not being attended to.

After that was under control they prepped, spreading my limbs this way and that, like a chicken being gutted and stuffed. Then drapes were placed.. To this point, Richard was not in the room and I feared they would forget about him. But a minute later he appeared and stayed at my side. The operation then began. Per Richard, it lasted 5 minutes. I could barely turn my head due to the block but could see him out of the corner of my eyes. I felt bad for him because I could see in his eyes his concern. It did him no good when I grunted as a result of my body being manipulated.

I became very startled when the numbing sensation began to climb upward toward my head, my throat feeling constricted. But, again, the doctor was immediately responsive and asked me what was wrong and, as a result of my response, made another medication correction.

The "rooting reflex"... It is a strange, and hopefully rare, feeling when a person is rooting around your gut. The incision for the operation was just above my private region and to deliver Florence the doctor had to reach all the way up just below my sternum to grab her out, and then the placenta. It was not a pleasant feeling, as he constricted the lungs in the process. Poor Richard's face, when I again grunted as the doctor made his final pull to deliver Florence.

I could hear Florence cry but not see her due to the numbing and placement of the drapes. I did get to a spy a head of hair, however, and noted that I was delivered in the exact same way. Florence was then moved to be examined while the doctor finished his work, taking out the placenta and doing whatever he must do to finish the operation.

Richard left my side briefly to see Florence and wish her Happy Birthday. At this point I hated the operation, as I lay helpless, unable to move, hearing my daughter cry and being unable to respond or move by her side. A nurse finally brought her to my face so I could kiss her briefly and, instantly, she was gone again. I was then moved to post-op. Richard followed the baby to examination.

Hours later, I finally got to see Florence. And in doing so, before me, lay my daughter, the culmination of a 40 year old dream....

The operation was horrific. The afterward a breeze. How so? At that point I had to thank a 15 year old car accident which required repeated injections along my spine while awake, the sum total of which was potentially in the thousands of injections. The after effect of the C-Section, while not pleasant, could not equal the pain involved in one of those injection sessions I had to overcome my car accident. So, fate being the strange creature that it is, and God working in his mysterious way, I came to be grateful for that accident, even though it caused me to quit college and give up on a career which required one be fuly physically functional. Now, it made sense and had purpose. Now, 15 years later, holding my daughter, I would not trade having that accident, because the damage it did was now my delivery from evil.

I had no intention of losing more time with my daughter due to this operation so Richard and I immediately had Florence stay with us, taking over her care from that moment forward. I refused for her to stay in the nursery. I had not waited 40 years to have this child only to have her removed from me. I didn't care about the operation, my recovery, my anything. This was my child and I would be her caretaker.

We had lots of trouble in this new hospital. Our nurse assigned to care for Florence was against breastfeeding, leaving us alone to figure it out. It didn't work, "winging it," nearly starting our daughter on the road to dehydration. Why? The C-Section had taken it's toll on both me and Florence, due to our long separation after the operation, the medications in me making me paralyzed for hours after the birth, etc., making us both out of sync to successfully breastfeed. On the first day, however, with our determination we were successful with our feedings. All was well! She latched on with no fuss and ate well. How lucky! However, everytime I would establish a sucessful breathfeeding session staff would insist I must stop to let them check my vitals, etc. or they would come to check Florence, tossing her around to and fro, making her cry horribly, then handing her back to me in this state.

It would take sometimes hours to get her to calm down and back to breastfeeding, only to have staff again interrupt. This happened continuously at the hospital to the point where Florence was so hungry, frustrated and anxious that she stopped eating. As I was panicked at how little food she was getting, I would not sleep each day, attempting repeatedly to get her to eat. Hours would drag by before I could get her to feed again, only again for staff to repeat this problem, again and again and again.

I told staff that I had no intention of stopping feeding sessions, that my daughter had not eaten in hours, that her health was more important than having my blood pressure at some specific time. One nurse, upon my telling her this, would huff and puff and insist that if I didn't cooperate then I wouldn't get discharged.

The result was repeated failures causing Florence to spend a large majority of her first few days in constant screaming, hunger and panic. This led us to be in a state of constant fear for her health. We had a lot of difficulty getting help in the hospital, with Florence's nurse being entirely unresponsive to our requests for help and second hand help being offered from everyone, wherein each person's directions were in direct opposition to the next person's directions. We were in a state of no sleep, constant fear, and total helplessness. Even Florence's doctor assigned during our stay kept contradicting himself at each visit. Worse yet, he showed little interest in our problem getting her fed.

Due to these problems, I insisted we go home ASAP. Richard was worried about my bleeding so we stayed until the next morning. Again, during that long last night, we fought to feed her, again only for staff to interrupt. Richard and I kept fighting for help. Florence's nurse only kept responding that we wouldn't have trouble if we'd just agree to formula feed. We fired Florence's nurse that day in the hospital and insisted we go home right away. We raised a stink such that five separate hospital big wigs came to apologize for our treatment. Regardless, I didn't care about their hospital, their nurse, or their problems. All I cared about was my daughter and to care for her we needed to go home.

So we arrived home and in the calmer atmosphere she responded. However, the damage was done for breastfeeding wherein our true pediatrician, who were went to see immediately, said after all these problems with her feeding sessions being interrupted, Florence was frustrated with the process and essentially gave up. So, in order to get her on the road to health we began feeding her breastmilk via a bottle and this is how we care for her now. And she is doing just beautifully.

Richard has continued to shine as the greatest thing in my life, equaled only by my daughter. He has been supportive, consoling, determined, and all the things I needed to get us all through this hard time. And now being home, he continues to shine, trying so hard to learn to care for Florence while taking care of me so I can recover.

So while the experience at this hospital was well below grade, it gave me a chance to see again what a diamond my Richard is and also it gave me the porthole through which I was delivered my one and only little girl, our most precious posession. And she was well worth every horrible moment, an adventure we'd gladly redo if such a prize await us.

Thank you, my husband, for making all my dreams come true. And thank you Florence, for allowing us to be your parents and for giving us such a worthwhile cause for the remainder of our lives.

"To endure is greater than to dare; to tire out hostile fortune; to be daunted by no difficulty; to keep heart when all have lost it; to go through intrigue spotless; and to forgo even ambition when the end is gained--who can say this is not greatness . . . " William Shakespeare.