MY BIRTH STORY- FINALE (p.s: a lot of tears were shed, in the writing of this story)

 22nd Oct 2013

DEAD OR IN TRANCE? 

I opened my eyes and everything was white all through. I looked around curiously and saw no one. Just a blank space surrounded by white. 

What happened? Last thing I remembered was, being surrounded by the whole medical team. I heard the other doctors telling the Consultant Urologist I had surgery experience, and him reassuring me I was in good hands. 

Again I wondered What happened? Then it hit me, the surgery had gone south and the expert urologist, gynaecologist and all the attendant medical team abandoned me in theatre and ran off. So what next, I thought, if things went wrong, does that mean 🤔🤔… oh no!  👀🤯 I AM/WAS DEAD!!. It all began to make sense, I had crossed to the other side which explains the all-white. I woke up to find myself dead. I didn’t know what was next, I couldn’t cry, I was blank and just staring at the whiteness all around me😕.

I don’t know for how long I stared into nothing, when I heard a voice call my name, I didn’t see anyone but recognized the voice as my mums’. Oh no! I didn’t just die, I killed my mum with my death. The shock of my death killed my mum was all I could think of. 

My mum continued to talk to me, but I refused to listen, she said something about the baby, but I didn’t answer her. I wasn’t interested, because we were both dead. Before going into surgery, I had mentally, single handedly willed all my children to different family members, but I had no liver to write it down, or discuss with hubby or anyone at all. And here I was, DEAD. 😢😢

After a while, I heard footsteps and heard my husband’s voice. And immediately, I heard his voice, I knew I wasn’t on the other side. I knew he won’t die along with me, not because he didn’t care, but I knew he would stay strong for everyone. Then I opened my eyes to look at him. Not sure I heard what he or anyone said at the time; but reassured by his voice, and presence; I willed myself into consciousness. I don’t know how long that took me, but I finally woke to the realization, that I was  in my private ward at the hospital and not the other side 😃. (Yes, I can be quite the drama queen, especially in my thoughts.)

PHEW!!! THAT WAS CLOSE 😅

It turns out, the medical team didn’t abandon me, after surgery they had willed me back to my room, and the Urologist actually spoke to me, told me he would be back later but I had no recollection of that. 

I don’t know what injections I was pumped with that had me imagining things, but I remember seeing everything in doubles. I actually remember vividly seeing one particular nurse walk behind herself, I blurted out that she was double as she walked out. 😀🙈😂.  I remember telling 1 of hubby’s colleagues who came visiting at the ward that she had rosy cheeks, think I touched it too. 

HOW DID WE GET HERE?

So, how did we get here? I’d take you back few days. It was 17th of October, I was scheduled for a CS delivery of my last born child. My 3rd CS birth. I got in early as scheduled, said bye to hubby as I was sent off to theatre. Like past surgeries, I was awake mostly with just my lower body numbed with anesthetic. 

I heard all the comments as the gynecologist and his team got to work, opening me and bringing out the baby. Immediately baby was brought out, I asked the nurse that was to clean him, if he was “white” as in very light skinned which she replied in the affirmative. (On 2 different occasions, I had dreamt of exactly how he looked: very fair skinned and tiny, so I was just confirming). After that I slipped back into sleep. 

Surgery went well, or so we thought. Mummy and baby were fine, except Mummy had some pains, seemed like there was blood in the urine/ catheter bag. As soon as I could consume fluids, I was bombarded with it, water to flush my system; and at some point Coca-Cola because of the caffeine to reduce the pain or something I can’t remember. I was placed under closed monitoring. 

OH OH! IT'S BACK TO THE OPERATING THEATRE

Then on Sunday, day 3 post surgery, I stood up, with support to use the restroom/ shower; can’t remember which but I had the worst ever piercing pain shoot through me. I screamed and was put back in bed. Calls were made, medications etc were done and I felt better. I was wheeled in for a scan and I listened to the Sonographer and my gynaecologist discuss, I heard words like fluid, kidney, we have to “go-in” etc.  I knew they were going to take me back into surgery, but all that rang in my head was Kidney & tons of dialysis. Would this be my lot, I kept thinking?

We got back into my room and the Gynaecologist said he would be back with results and all. My mum asked how it went and I couldn’t face her to tell her I was being scheduled for another surgery. Told her they are yet to review the scan results. I knew she would breakdown. My mum is a very strong, hardworking, tough cookie but deep down she’s an emotional mess. 

I don’t know how or when but eventually it was official that I would be going in for an explorative surgery and a consultant Urologist was called in to work with the team. My mum must have cried her eyes out, and prayed her heart out. I am sure everybody in my family were deep in prayer all through that time. 

I should say there had been multiple people having bad dreams/ sometimes  nightmare regarding me and my pregnancy / delivery; many prayer sessions held, so this was super scary for my mum. 

The urologist, a smallish man, and the gynaecologist, a huge man both spoke to me, explaining what needed to be done.  I was taken into surgery on the 5th day post CS surgery for another surgery. And it was after that surgery that I woke up to the whiteness all around me 😁. 

I ended up spending about 2 weeks in the hospital, for the first time ever, I wasn’t there when my child was being named. Of course there was no naming party, hubby only took him home and together with the cleric and few relatives, the naming rites were done and he was brought back to the hospital. 

The explorative surgery revealed that I had Hematuria caused a bladder injury (0.2% in primary CS, and 0.6% in secondary CS; so there was a bladder repair surgery. 

Anyways, I was discharged after about 2 weeks in hospital, with catheter in me; and I’d go to the hospital for follow ups. The hospital was close home, maybe like 15 minutes outside traffic, so I was happy to be discharged. That didn’t mean I got the all clear. I was recovering from a Uterus surgery, Bladder surgery and healing from what now looks like an upside down T (⊥) scar. 

Upside down T scar (⊥) and a Sneeze 

The CS scar was a bikini line, for all 3 birth surgeries, but the explorative surgery had them reopen the bikini scar and open another opening that went towards my navel giving this inverted T "⊥" shape. 

The pain though managed with painkillers, the discomfort had no cure if you ask me. It was tough and I’d look at my catheter still with signs of blood, we’d take pictures as it got clearer and clearer. The catheter was removed after some 5/7 days and I had to transition to adult diapers. The Urologist nicely explained to me that it’s a slow process to fully regain control of my bladder, I had to “diaper train” to pee. 

It was very painful and difficult to pee, I’d feel sharp pain when the urge comes and I’d be shaking/ vibrating, and in the end the pee would come without my control. I had no say on when or how to pee. 

As if that wasn’t tough to deal with; I had a tiny spot that got infected on the scar site, then one day I sneezed and the intersection of the “inverted T scar” popped open. What! Right? Oh yes it did open. 

Back into Surgery? Never Again

At the hospital, I was told I might need to be taken back into surgery to sew up the opening; to which I replied no way, that never again will I enter the Theatre, or let a surgical blade touch me (don’t judge me) I was done and done with surgery. Plus, the skin on the scar site has been stretched from 1, 2, 3, and 4 surgeries. Isn’t that the reason it popped opened after a sneeze 🤔? I couldn’t imagine where they will get the extra skin to cover it up, if not from other parts of my body; or maybe they would patch it up and I have to worry about the next sneeze. 

Based on my refusal to go in for a suture, I was told recovery process will be slow and long; to which I agreed. And girl, was it slow? It was very slow. The hole became wider and deep too, definitely not a pleasant site to look at.  Unfortunately, I cant share pictures, that would be a little TMI. My earliest picture with baby R (Konkolo) was when he was about a month old.

I made daily trips to the hospital for dressing, except for few odd days where hubby had to assume the resident attendant nurse. 

For about 2 months, I was mostly on my back or reclined a bit with supporting pillow to eat, breastfeed or express milk. Yes, I somehow still breastfed exclusively apart from the days I was
in hospital and completely unavailable. I don’t know how I did it, but I did; I guess the fact that I always lactate excessively it would be painful/ unrealistic of me not to breastfeed. I mostly expressed anyways, and hubby or any of the available grandmas would feed him from the bottle. 

To worsen matters, I developed a massive boil around my groin, an aftermath of the catheter I had on for long or just my system getting dealt with one more pain. The doctor said they could cut it and get rid of the pus, but then again, I was anti sharp blades, so again we took the longer route. I really can’t remember what it was that was done but I remember I was in physical and emotional pain (a tiny scar from the boil remains on me till date. That period remains most trying time of my life, I was tired, mentally drained, and frustrated, I queried why God decided to punish me with all that was going on. 

Thinking back, the only reason I probably didn’t go into post natal depression would have to be having a strong support system. Hubby was there physically emotionally and spiritually, as he reminded me that instead of this being a punishment from God; it could be God actually saved me from something worse. And I couldn’t disagree. 

From the daily hospital trips, to the countless errands he had to run, playing nurse, husband, daddy, buying diapers for Me since, I brought enough diapers for little man via cargo. He was present in every way, even when he had to deal with the ever demanding work of his. I made sure he took pictures of the wound as many times as possible. He also had to deal with reassuring family members that were not with us; at my slightest smile, he’d take pictures of him and send to the family group. Yes it was that important, every smile was calls for  picture. 

Other family members were not left out, my mum, Mum in-law who took over from my mum to take care of me and the baby. My sis in-law who’d show up with one thing or the other or just provide moral support, my siblings separated by distance but never far away at heart, praying and following up on phone. My in-laws, family and friends, the many mummies I have in Lagos; nothing really beats having a strong network of supportive people in your corner and for that I am forever grateful. 

One of my girls checked up on me, towards the end of my recovery process, and she said “pele, you should write a book about your experience.” To Ewere, I didn’t quite write the book, but here I just told my story, well, what I remember as at now, of my story. 

See, just like with my 1st CS surgery, I read all the fine prints on delivery, but never CS, or "Placenta Abruptio" because it wasn't for me,😄 afterall, it happens in only 1% of pregnancies; I also paid no heed to the possible complications of repeat surgery I had read about before, and even signed off on my pre-surgery consent form while in UK. As always, I felt 1%- 6% wasn't me, but I lied. I am the 1%.  

Summary of my birthing experience is the 1% or less than 1% chance, could be you & I; and in my case, I have been the 1% on more than one occasion. If like me, you are one of the 1%, remember you are alone; I hope you look back in years to come with gratitude for standing despite the 1%. 

Also dedicating this write up to my very dear friend Billie, who passed on few days after birthing her 2nd baby due to complications; she would have been a year older on July 3rd. Please say prayers for her, and the beautiful boys she left behind. You are gone but lives on forever in my heart.

    My beautiful baby, Konkolo