Fading in and out of consciousness. I could only think of my baby boy.
Was he okay? Can he breathe okay? Is he in pain? Are they hurting him? Does he feel alone?
These thoughts kept me going even though there was seemingly nothing left in me. And I was still numb. And my arms felt heavy even though they were empty. I'd been having the shakes pretty bad for awhile now. And all I wanted was to hold my baby and make sure he was warm and fed and okay.
_____ had met me in the recovery room. He looked defeated, exhausted. I remember laying there looking at him for a good while. I knew we had a lot to process through. He had this blank stare across his face. I can't even remember what words were exchanged. His father had called him and I could hear his voice booming over the phone. "My son, are you okay? Do you need anything?" The conversation they had was very...strange, self-centered, and gross. No concern for Roux or myself. No asking if either of us were okay. No asking to come and visit. Nothing. Just: "my son, my son."
One of the nurses or doctors came in to give me the details of what happened and what they were doing since I hadn't been in the room with him while _____ and him were whisked away. Roux had been taken up to NICU to receive CPAP and a feeding tube. His oxygen wasn't so great and so they wanted to make sure his levels came up before bringing him to me. I asked if he was okay or if he was in pain. She told me he was okay. I was a worried wreck. She wanted to collect colostrum for his little feeding tube. I got 2 oz of the golden milk for him. I asked if they cut him because I did not want him to be cut. She assured me he was unharmed in any way. I asked when I could hold him and feed him. She told me that they hoped for him to be out of NICU by that evening.
And what a damn wait it was.
I refused to rest and close my eyes until I knew he was okay and in my arms. I did anything I could to keep going, even though by then, I had been up for 2 days straight.
As they were bringing me up to the room we'd be staying in, they made a quick pit-stop by the NICU so that I could see my little boy and kiss him so many times.
Seeing his little face with the O2 on him and his little feeding tube made me feel so sad and upset. I just wanted to hold him to my chest and warm him up and let him know I was there and that he was not alone. That he was loved. I blamed myself too. For not trusting in us, me and him, during labor. He was right at the exit and I feel like I could have safely pushed him out if we hadn't of stopped to try and turn him. I mean, he literally went back up and turned around! Poor guy. And I didn't talk to him...instead I listened to the nurse. Being a birth doula, I shook my own head in disappointment.
I think through a mix of exhaustion, stress, fear, and the epidural, I gave in.
He panicked. I blame that on myself. I should have made him feel safe. And the first experience he had with the outside world was fear and distrust.
And now, here he was with tubes and not being held by anyone.
That being said, he was alive. And he wasn't all covered in bruises or bleeding. All his organs were intact. He was breathing. He was not crying in pain. And for that, I am forever grateful. I kissed him so many times. I told him over and over that I was so proud of him; that he did so good, that he was so strong, and that I couldn't wait to feed him and hold him forever so hurry up and get all better so it could happen! I think he listened...
I was brought up to the room we'd be staying in. It had a nice view. I hadn't even known what time of day it was. I didn't know how long I had been in recovery for. I didn't even know what time Roux had been born. (It was 2:56 pm...the time of his birth).
After a 36 hour labor and an emergency cesarean, I felt like I had been run over by a train. What's worse about cesareans if you didn't know, is that the nurses come in every so often to press down, not very gently might I add, on the top of your uterus and bring it down to help it contract down and expel more blood. Going over that sore and sensitive incision is not a joy. And I remember squeezing ______'s hand while she did it the first time, and feeling fluid and blood come out between my legs. I did my best to breathe through it and remind myself that this was all a moment that was temporary, and I'd never experience it again.
After a little while of sitting in silence, ______ was there and he looked at me and said, "Well, you're probably starving! I know I am. I was thinking about heading over to the apartment real quick, check on the kitties and Hershey, and bring back some sustenance for you, yeah? You want me to bring those broths you made?" Some relief, "Yes, please that would be amazing. Thank you." "Heard! I'll bring that right back for you, my dear." He kissed me on my forehead and off he went to make the 1.2 mile trek back to the apartment.
A few texts and calls to my friends and family letting them know we were going to make it out alive. That _____ had left to the apartment to grab my broths, that I was waiting for Roux to be brought to our room, and how the nurses hoped that it would be this evening. I looked at the clock and realized it had been a little over 2 hours since ______ had left. I checked my phone, no missed calls or texts.
I was watching whatever was on the TV at the time, doing what I could to stay awake for my little one. I was eyeing the hospital menu trying to decide whether to wait for the broths ______ was going to bring or if I should just order something. But then I realized the time to put in dinner orders had already passed. "Ugh, of course." I shrugged.
Every time the nurse came in, I'd ask her about Roux. "He's making good progress since you came to see him! Don't worry. You should try to get some rest!" I just slumped my head back into my pillow and stared out the window, a few tears rolling down my face. I could see it getting a bit darker. And I wondered where _____ was. Still no missed calls or texts.
The sun had set. It was dark. Over 4 hours had passed. I still hadn't held and fed my baby boy. I still had not eaten anything but ice chips, apple juice, and tea. I was beginning to worry. The bad butterflies came in and decided to stay.
It must have been about 9 or 10 pm when I got a text from ______ saying something about having gone somewhere but that he'd be there soon. Oh, this was something I'd recognized. I was starting to get really pissed. I had not even held or fed my son from my own body, and he was already off somewhere trying to escape reality.
I was laying there trying to process through everything. Like this entire experience of having moved away from home in California to come back to Colorado and how I ended up getting myself into this pickle. Why had I allowed these people into my life. And just how much I really needed to know my baby was okay and that I could hold him in my arms.
By midnight, I felt I was starting to lose my mind a bit.
By midnight-thirty I was starting to shut down.
The night nurse came in to check on me and told me to try and go pee. Right then, _____ stumbled through the door. You could smell him immediately. His eyes were glazed. He couldn't look me in the eyes. He held a brown paper bag. Inside were my broths, though I assumed they contained other things first. He slumped down on the chair. "Well, I think I got my job back at ______." He exclaimed.
(This was the job he left so that he could be home every day by 5:30 to be with his "family." This was also the job where he was overworked, taken advantage of, treated like a dog, and gave him the excuse to abuse substances. This was also the job that he got his ex a position at. Yes, the one who was so upset that we weren't together).
I looked at him confused. "I was just taking a breather, you know. I went and hung out with ______ and we had a few drinks. Then I came back down to ______ and got together with my buddy from _____ and we had some drinks too." The nurse and I exchanged looks at each other. I felt so ashamed and embarrassed.
So instead of going home 1.2 miles away to bring back some sustenance for me after having not eaten or slept for 2 days, he went all the way to _________ to get wasted with his ex, then go and drink more with another friend after that because clearly, he hadn't had enough. And no, these were not celebratory drinks. This was him choosing to finally leave us. Even if he'd never say the words. But if his actions that night had words attached to them, they would say, "Hi! My name is _____. This is who I am. And this is the life I choose to live. I will not change. I will always choose booze and sex over anything. The only person I'm sorry for is myself."
I slid over to the edge of the bed and stared out at the floor. I told the nurse I was going to head to the restroom to try to pee. That's when _____ came over in desperation to try to help me up and over to the restroom, like some sort of hero. He stood there in front of me, drunk swaying, trying to find my hands and properly grip them. I couldn't even believe this was happening. I told him to let it go and go sit down and sleep. He huffed at me, "I can carry you! I will carry you the bathroom!" As he started to attempt to grab my legs and waist, I pushed him away and told him to just let me go on my own. He huffed at me again, mumbled words, and went over to the chair and slumped back down. I carefully stood up, grabbed my IV stuff, and walked over to the bathroom.
Peeing after having a catheter sucks by the way. Every time.
When I got settled back into my bed, I looked at the clock and it was 1 am. The night nurse was still with me, I honestly think out of concern that he was here in the state he was in, and I was alone. I mouthed over to her, "Thank you." She smiled and winked at me and went back to typing on the computer. That's when the door opened and my Little Roux Bear was tube-less and ready to be held and fed. ______ threw his shirt off immediately and held out his arms. The nurse and I looked at each other in disbelief and then I looked over at the doctor who had brought Roux in and I told them, "Please bring him to his mother." ______ huffed again and turned over in his chair and passed out.
Oh yeah, and not a word from ______, his ex.
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