About the Stroke...

I think this has been the hardest obstacle to overcome for Roland and I since Dominic has been born. His heart surgeries were predetermined and his cleft lip and palate are an inconvienience right now, but both his heart and his palate will be fixed in the future. And once they are fixed they will be in perfect working order. Both will function just like anyone elses heart or palate would function.

The difficult thing about the stroke is that it isn't fixable, and it is large. No surgery can fix what has happened. This damage to his brain is permanent. The stroke damaged about 75% of the right half of his brain. The most effected areas was his movement and coordination sections, and there is a possibility his vision and personality sections were damaged as well. When I asked about cognitive learning, the neonatologist stated that cognition is pretty much everywhere, so it can be assumed that will be effected as well.

Now, that being said, not everything is set in stone or completely predictable. Being that Dominic is SO young, and the neurologist thinks that this stroke probably happened in utero, he was still building his neuro-pathways when the stroke happened. In contrast, had this size of a stroke happened to an adult, they probably wouldn't have survived. His brain will adapt where it can, and he will have lasting effects when it can't. But no one will know what those effects are until Dominic gets to a stage in development or has difficulties in some areas or whatever. We may start to notice it when he starts to reach expected milestones in his baby development. For example, lifting his head while on his tummy, or sitting up, or walking, or talking. Right now he looks and acts like a regular baby (well, a regular baby that has a cleft lip and palate and has had heart surgery), he is not yet showing any favourtism to his right side, and he is still kicking with his left foot and grasping with his right hand. He is seeing a Physiotherapist once a day and we have also been told exercises we should do with him to help keep his left side moving and working. Meeting with the neurologist specializing in strokes and talking to the neonatologist have brought us some information that may be considered comforting or at the very least giving us less to worry about. The neonatologist stated that if he was going to have seizures from this stroke, he would have had some already, so it is unlikely he will have any in the future (the potential 22q11 deletion seizures are another story), and both the specialist and neonatologist have said that having this stroke does not make him more likely to have another one. A Neurology nurse is meeting with us on Tuesday to give us some resources on how to help him in the future, but other than that we are sort of done with this stroke. We just have to accept it, understand that his future is uncertain, knowing that we will need to help him, and move on.

What is really more of a concern right now is what is going on with his heart. We are still not sure if he will need to go back in for surgery, tests are still being run to make sure that the conduit really is the problem. The bacterial infection that could be cleared out by antibiotics is still a possibility until tomorrow. If his blood cultures come back negative between now and then, then we don't need surgery and he could be on his way home.

But, as always, for now we wait...

Highs, Followed by Extreme Lows

Today has been an absolute rollercoaster of a day.

Last night Dominic was fortunate enough to have a good friend of mine as his nurse. She is a fabulously lovely and loving person, so I knew he was in the best hands possible after I called it a night. It was great for me too, because I know that she will help me however I need while I am here, and she won't judge me or Dominic or Roland over anything. She has been extremely supportive, and it's great having a friend here.

This morning I was happy again to have one of Dominic's regular nurses attending him for the day. She has also been great with him and great with the millons of questions Roland and I ask in a day. I decided to skip the Cardio rounds today, because I have been battling a headache the last couple days (more than likely it's due to dehydration, I haven't been drinking nearly as much water as I usually do, and I never seem to think of it until it starts to feel like my brain is going to pop out of my eye sockets), plus, since Dominic's self-extubation, there really hadn't been any changes, so I didn't think it was worth waiting around for. Just after getting back to the room, Dominic's nurse called to let us know that he was getting moved out of the Pediatric Cardiac unit and into the regular Pediatric unit, because they needed the bed in the Cardiac unit. I was fine with that. If he was the kid that needed to be there the least, and thus got bumped out, I figured that was a good thing. Then just before lunch, I got called and told he was moving over to NICU. I, once again, had no problem with this. It made more sense for him to be in NICU than Peds, because he is not even three weeks old yet. I headed straight down to see him in NICU, and when I got there, he didn't have his mask on. He was breathing entirely on his own! The nurse said during the move over they had taken it off for simplicity reasons, and he had faired so well that they didn't need to put it back on. This was fantastic! What a strong little man! He REALLY didn't need that breathing tube! His oxygen levels would still drift down a little after a while, but all they needed to do was point the mask at his face from a few inches away and they would shoot back up. 

While they were getting him all set up in NICU, it came up in conversation that I hadn't held him since he went in for surgery, and after them completing a quick assessment they had me cuddling my baby while they continued the rest of his admittance paper work. LOVE THAT! Then they were talking about all of his infusions and lines and what needed to be there and what didn't, basically making a plan for him, and they asked why he wasn't being fed currently. I told them that he had only gone off of feeds because of his extubation and they were worried about him asperating, so they just wanted to see how he would do, but they had planned to start him back on feeds after rounds on the Cardiac unit. Then one of the other nurses mentioned to the nurses in the huddle that he would need to be off of feeds to be transported back to Saskatoon, so maybe they should keep them on hold since he is doing so well in case they schedule him for transport. My heart soared! This is the first time anyone has said anything about him going back home without being prompted by me with questions. I was glowing inside, maybe we would be back in S'toon by next week!

Dominic had been scheduled for a CT scan prior to leaving the Cardiac unit because of this whole business with his conduit and his blood tests that had come back positive for bacterias. No one was sure where the pneumonia or any of the bacteria in his body was coming from so they decided to run a chest CT to check out his conduit and see if it was not functioning properly because of a blood clot, and also they were going to do a head scan to see if there were bacteria pockets in his head and see how far this bacteria problem goes. So just after lunch they called for him to go down for his CT scans, which he did like a champ. Then we headed back to NICU, I kissed Dominic good bye and went to get some lunch, pump, and take a quick recharger nap. Late afternoon I went back for a visit and to drop off some of my breastmilk, and the neonatologist came to give me the report from the CT scans. She warned me that the news wasn't good, but I still wasn't prepared for how bad it was. She started by saying that the problem with the conduit was not because of a clot, which she tried to put a positive spin on, saying that a big clot would have been a bigger problem, but I still figure that it's due to the bacteria and that his antibiotics are dealing with it as we speak. She then moved on to tell me that the CT scan discovered that Dominic's one pulmonary artery to one of his lungs basically tapers to the point where no blood is getting through to that lung. She stated that she had notified the cardiology team, and they would discuss options tomorrow, but he may need another surgery to fix it. GAWD I am hoping for some other options, but I have no idea what they might be, so I guess all we can do is wait until tomorrow to find out. The last, and most devistating, news that she gave me is that when they did the head scan to look for bacteria pockets, they instead found that Dominic had had a stroke. She told me that it was “old”, as in it had happened at least 2 weeks ago, but that a large part of the right side of his brain was effected. No one can tell why it happned, or exactly when, just that it did. And it is likely to have some lasting effects on him. We will now be meeting with Stroke specialists tomorrow to get a better picture of just how bad it is, and what we will need to do to help Dominic in the future. 

This whole pattern of 2 steps forward and 3 steps back is really wearing on me. Why can't good news just remain good news? Why does it always seem to be quickly followed by bad news? 

Reunited

My parents brought the kids over to Edmonton for a few days so that I could be reunited with this beauty face.

We had a great few days, but quite a few tears were shed whenever I thought of them going home. I tried to live in the moment and just appreciate the time I had with them, but in the back of my mind I was always knew that it would be tough when they left. Plus there was the added guilt of not spending enough time with either Rosalie, Brayden, and my parents, and also not spending enough time at the hospital with Dominic. I wanted to split myself in two and be both places at once. Unfortunately we didn't really do much fun stuff while the kids were here because I didn't really want to be too far from Dominic at any time, plus there was Rosalie's nap to consider, but we still had a good time, and Rosalie got to meet Dominic for the first time. She actually knows he's a real person now! But I was right, I cried an entire river when they drove away. It was super SUPER tough to see my little monkey leave.

Dominic's recovery is going well, but there have been a few set backs that has slowed our progress into getting home. First his oxygen saturation levels were lower than expected and the doctors were really unsure of why, so it was a lot of guesswork. Eventually they figured out that the secretions in his mouth and lungs were not the mouth breathing he does because of his cleft lip and palate, but actually because of the bacterial pneumonia that they discovered in his lungs. So he was put on antibiotics and after 48 hours his saturations were far better. So once his saturations went up the plan became to wean him off of his ventilator so that he could get his breathing tube removed, and then technically he would be able to go back to Saskatoon. Then he had another set back when an Echocardiogram they did didn't come back totally clean. Part of the conduit they put in his heart wasn't moving as much as they thought it should be. The doctor said it looked "thick". They figured this could be because of one of three reasons 1) A blood clot, this would just move out on it's own eventually 2) a bacterial infection, this could explain where his pneumonia came from and the antibiotics he's already on for the pneumonia will treat the conduit. Or 3) there is a problem with the conduit that they put in and he will need to go back into surgery in order to fix it... I am hoping for option one or two, I think two is the most likely because of the bacterial infection he's already got, but I REALLY hope it's not option three. I will be devastated. No word of a lie. That would mean we would be starting all over with his recovery and looking at at least another two weeks here. I don't think I'll survive. But we'll find out tomorrow one way or another, because he has now been scheduled for a CT scan.

More interesting development this evening. While we were eating supper, I had a call from Dominic's nurse because he had decided to spit up his breathing tube. I am not totally sure how this is actually possible, but he did it. He caused quite the frenzy on the unit from the sounds of it. There was a bunch of panic because they thought he wasn't ready to breathe without it, but after they bagged him to help him breathe, they realized he was mostly doing it on his own anyway. So after some discussion, it was decided not to re-intubate him, and just put him on a ventilation mask to help him out in case he needed it. So he is breathing entirely on his own, although they are still supplementing his oxygen. My interpretation of this scenario is that Dominic decided that after he met his sister, he realized he would WAY rather be at home playing with her instead of in a hospital bed in Edmonton. So he was all, like, "Nuts to this!" and just got rid of it to prove he could do without...

So it is still completely up in the air when we will get to come home. I was told on Friday, before the Echo and Dominic's self-extubation, that it would not be unreasonable for him to be here for another two weeks in order to give him time to get off of the ventilator... but now that he is no longer on the breathing tube, that should make things go quicker... but then there is this business with his conduit that could mean more surgery, thus a longer stay... So who knows.

We're crossing our fingers that he doesn't need another surgery, but we should know a better idea of the plan in the next couple of days. Keep sending those positive thoughts our way!

Surgery Day

I didn't sleep well last night. Can you blame me?

The thing is that I wasn't even really that worried, just nervous. Like, butterflies in my tummy. And my mind wouldn't stop going all night.

I went into NICU early in order to spend the last couple of hours with Dominic before his surgery. So I was into the unit shortly after 5:30am. I was told the night previously that although I had voiced that I wanted to hold Dominic right up to the time he goes for surgery, his numbers (Carbon Dioxide and Oxgen mostly) were still unstable and that they were uncomfortable moving him around more than absolutely necessary. I had come to terms with that, and went in assuming I would just be sitting at his bedside, stroking his forehead and holding his hand. But when I arrived, they had one of the nice chairs for holding him set up next to his bed, and asked if I was still interested in holding him. I got really choked up, and in a few minutes I was holding Dominic for the last time before he went in for surgery. His nurse apologized that I wouldn't be able to hold him for longer than half an hour because they needed to get him settled before he went to the OR, but I would have accepted a one minute hold if that was all they would give me. But it was a great half hour.

They came to get him for surgery almost exactly at 7:00, which I appreciated. I like it when things are on schedule. I got to walk him right to the OR room he would be in, and I gave him so many kisses it was kinda like I was using them as punctuation for my questions and everyone else's statements. Then I watched him get wheeled in... and I went back to the hotel to cry and sleep. In that order. I basically cried until I fell asleep. I knew it was good, I knew he needed this surgery and he would then be on the road to recovery, but it is still tough to watch your baby be wheeled into an operating room to go under the knife. Anyone would worry.

After getting about an hour of sleep, Roland and I headed back to the hospital to wait for Dominic to come out of surgery. The day prior the surgeon had said that he would be out between 11:00 and 1:00, so we took up our post just after 11:00, but of course he wasn't done until 12:50. I was a bit anxious waiting, but another thing the surgeon had said was that if it took longer it didn't mean anything had gone wrong, it just meant that it took longer. The surgeon came out with glowing reviews: Dominic had done well, everything went according to plan, no surprises, his size made him a good patient (often they work on babies half his size and that is more difficult), and he doesn't expect Dominic to have any complications with his recovery.

We got to see him about 45 minutes later after he had been released from the OR and settled into the Pediatric Cardiac Recovery unit. He had a LOT of tubes and wires coming out of him and he was still completely unconscious from the surgery drugs, but he was there and alive and we were assured he was doing well. Roland had a tough time seeing him like that, but I was just happy he made it through the surgery and now the recovery could begin. We only stayed for a bit and then headed back to the room to give Roland a break from the hospital and so that I could take a nap. And did I ever nap! I think I was out within 30 seconds of walking in the hotel room door.

When I went back at 5:00, his stats were still a bit all over the place and they were just trying to figure out what they needed to do to keep him stable but still try to let him do what he could on his own. I think that is pretty standard for after a surgery. He was awake and making efforts to move around, probably because he had been sedated for so long he was craving movement, but what they really want him to do at this stage is sleep. He needs sleep to recover, and moving around too much after any surgery can lead to problems, so they were planning on having to sedate him a bit more again. But I got to see those big beautiful blue eyes again, so that was nice for me. By 9:00 when both of us went back he was pretty stable, he was still more awake than they wanted him to be, but he was less active, so Roland still got to see his eyes, but we just tried to sit down with him and do what we could to help him relax. What we were doing seemed to work... that, and more of his meds started to kick in. ;)

So let the rest of the recovery begin!

Thank you so much to everyone that has sent their well wishes and prayers our way! Your support means so much to us and they really did help us through this, knowing that we have so many people in our corner, rooting Dominic on to get through his surgery and move through his recovery. THANK YOU!!!

Crash

I suppose I was overdue to have a breakdown.

We have been through a lot this past week, and honestly, I felt I was doing fine up until today. We've had a lot going on, but there has always been something for me to do. On Dominic's birthday we met about a million different doctors that would be helping him for the next few years of his life, we met counsellors that would help us through the process of coping with all of his difficulties and travel for surgery and stuff. Then there were the plans we had to make when we found out that we would have to travel to Edmonton for his surgery earlier than we initially thought. Then once we got to Edmonton we had a lot to do to get settled and manage the situation here, get to know in and around the hospital. It seemed like that all sorta wrapped up on Friday, we got settled in the hotel, got groceries, got an official date for Dominic's surgery... Being busy helped me keep my mind off of everything that is difficult. If I had a job to do, I was distracted enough to not really think about how my son is going in for open heart surgery in less than 2 days, or that I am over 500km away from my home and my daughter...

I actually think that it sorta started to hit me last night. I had been waiting all day to hold Dominic but something always got in the way. X-rays, blood work, nursing shift changes, etc... So when I finally got to hold him it was about 10pm, and it was somewhat of a process to get him into my arms. He has so many tubes and cords and wires coming out of him right now, I couldn't really move around that much. I determined that I didn't really like holding him when he was like that because I was worried I would accidentally pull something or move wrong and it would hurt him. Plus he is sedated, so I don't get to see those big beautiful blue eyes because he is too tired to open them. So I feel that it's not best for hold him right now, and I have no intention of asking to do so until right before he goes for surgery on Monday.

Then today his Oxygen and Carbon Dioxide levels were all off, and somewhat unpredictable, so they needed to put him on a drug that would paralyze him so that they had more control over his breathing and thus, more control over those levels. This drug can cause problems with his gut and so they need to feed him though his IV, and would be doing so until he goes for surgery.

Taking a step back, it is important to note that Dominic was not being breastfed or fed from a bottle prior to this. He has a feeding tube because he often needs to be sedated (and is until after surgery now because of this paralysis medication), so he can't bottle-feed. So I had been going in routinely (6am, 9am, noon, 3pm, 6pm, 9pm, and midnight) to hold the syringe for his feeding tube so that I could somehow be involved in the job that my body really aught to be doing for him. A job that almost all mothers get to take part in. I also like schedules and routines, so it gave me a time to go in next.

Now, I don't need to go in for those times, and I don't feel that there is anything I am doing for him now. I hold his hand, or stroke his forehead, but I am not really DOING anything for him. I am not taking care of my baby. There is nothing for me to do.

The other thing that was devastating, is that I decided to skip the 9am feed this morning because I was SO tired. I went in for the 6am one, but could not get myself out of bed for the 9am one. I figured I was going to go in for rounds anyway, I would just hang around until his noon feed and make for an extra long visit to make up for my skipped feed this morning. But instead, I found out at rounds that his noon feed wouldn't be happening because of this drug. So I skipped the last opportunity I had to feed my son before his surgery in exchange for an extra hour of sleep. It was NOT a good trade.

So I hung around for a bit, and tried to ask some questions, but I kept tearing up. I kept it under control and was able to avoid any tears actually falling, but as soon as Dominic's nurse asked me if I was OK, I broke. I bawled. I told them that I missed the last chance I had to feed him, and that now I couldn't do anything for him. And I wasn't sure he would even know I was there if he was all sedated and paralyzed. I was now useless to him. His nurse and doctor assured me I was not, but I still felt like it. I left there at about noon, and came back to the hotel to cry in bed for a few hours.

Basically, I started to have everything catch up to me. Without a routine or something to really do, I started to think about everything. I started to feel the gravity of Dominic's situation, and I started to feel sorry for myself. And I still kinda do.

Really, all I want is to go home. I want to be with my son with his heart all healed and perfect. I want to hang out with Rosalie and be there for her routines. I want to be at home with my family like most people are when their babies are a week old.

But that's not possible right now. Maybe in a couple of weeks...

The Big Day

Surgery did not happen today, which wasn't really a surprise. I figured someone would have told us prior to this if surgery was imminent.

But now we have a date and time: Monday August 18th, 2014 @ 7:00 am.

I like this because it is on Dominic's 10 day birthday, and when we first talked to the cardiologist after Dominic was born, he seemed to think that his 10 day birthday was an ideal time for surgery. He's had so many struggles lately that I was starting to hope for it to happen earlier than that. Today would have been nice, but alas, it was not meant to be. But I'll take the 18th. I also like that it is first thing in the morning. I wouldn't like to wait around all morning to have it done in the afternoon. Morning is good. It means it will be over earlier.

Granted all of this could change at a moment's notice with someone needing surgery more than he does, but we'll hope that doesn't happen.

So think of us on Monday at 7:00 am! Send all of your best wishes and thoughts!

In Edmonton

What a crazy week it has been. It's hard to believe that Dominic arrived a whole week ago, yet at the same time, it's hard to believe he has ONLY been here for a week. I think I said that about Rosalie too. Everything is craziness when it comes to babies.

It has been quite the whirlwind week though.

All day on Dominic's birthday he did really really well. He was only on an IV and didn't need any medication or apparatuses of any kind. We tried feeding him with a special needs bottle, and it didn't go awesome, we both had some learning to do with how to get the best results, but we did make progress.

Saturday morning I showed up for rounds (an update for each baby with the whole team for the day), and saw that Dominic now had a CPAP on (which is like a face mask that provides forced air), and was told that this was because he started to have trouble breathing in the very early morning. I had wondered why they hadn't called me to come feed him after about 2am, but figured someone just forgot. They also decided to just feed him through his IV so that he could get used to the mask without having to worry about asphyxiating on breast milk. I was disappointed, but I hadn't had much milk coming in yet, so I thought taking a day to get it in would help me out a bit.

After that things just kept seeming to go downhill. I don't remember what order things happened in, but they found a clot near his liver, his blood oxygenation levels weren't ideal, he needed a tube in his belly button that would prevent me from being able to hold him... a bunch of things.

Tuesday was the day that his cardiologists had a conference call with all of the other Western Canadian cardiologists to discuss their patients and make a plan for their surgeries and treatments and stuff. Dominic's cardiologists presented his case and it was determined that transferring him to Edmonton as soon as possible would be ideal. We were told he could go as early as the following day, Wednesday. Roland and I panicked a bit. We weren't ready, we thought he would go that week to be ready for his 10 day birthday (the following Monday), but we didn't think he would go SO early. We cracked down and figured out a plan, and tried to get as much done as we could that we needed to take care of before we left.

Wednesday morning, we were told that the NICU in Edmonton was at capacity, so he probably wouldn't be going today, but likely tomorrow, but definitely by Friday. We relaxed a bit, went out for lunch at the Berry Barn, Roland and Brayden went to a movie while Rosalie and I took a nap. At 4:00pm we found out that a space had opened up in Edmonton and that Dominic would be transferred at 7:00pm that night. We were in a total frenzy getting everything ready. Booking hotels, packing our bags, calling family, making plans for the kids... at 7:00 I was at NICU with only an overnight bag, helping get Dominic ready for his air ambulance transport. By 8:00 we were on a tin can sized plan heading to Edmonton.

Thursday morning, Roland left Saskatoon to follow us to Edmonton after finishing up all of the paperwork and other errands we needed to complete in Saskatoon.

So now we are just waiting for this surgery to happen. We were told the rush on Wednesday was because they may have been able to get him in for surgery on Thursday, but that didn't end up happening. We were told there was a possibility for Friday as well, but so far it seems that everyone figures that it will probably be on Monday, his 10 day birthday.

Yup, now it's just the waiting game, but we really are taking things one day at a time. So much changes day to day and it's rarely ever predictable.

Labouring Mom Without a Clue

If my son's birth story was published in a newspaper /\ THIS /\ would be the title of the article. Sometimes I shock myself with how clueless I am and how much I can ignore in regards to my own body.

I had been having a lot of signs and symptoms of my impeding labour for a few days. Nothing really to call the doctor about (leaking boobs, pressure and head bumps to my pelvis, etc), but there were things that were happening in my body that were telling me that my labour was on the way sometime soon. I should have taken them more seriously.

At about 6:30am on Thursday (August 7th), I woke up to a couple of contractions that I wrote off as Braxton Hicks because they were only about 5 minutes apart, but then nothing really followed. I might have another one 30 minutes later, but I figured it must have been because of how I was sitting or lying or just that my uterus was getting some practice in before the big event. They were not regular, they were not super intense, so I figured they were false labour. I had arranged with a friend from work to head to her place in Dalmeny to meet her new little bundle of joy that morning. I almost cancelled because of these "braxton hicks" contractions, but decided not to. It seemed silly to stay home for fake labour, and going out might be a good way to alleviate them or at least distract myself so they wouldn't bother me so much. So Rosalie and I drove out to Dalmeny for a few hours had a great time and got some baby cuddles in before heading back for lunch. I kept having these "braxton hicks" contractions, but they weren't terrible, I don't even know if anyone would have noticed that I was having them, I would just shift positions (thinking that how I was sitting was causing them), and continue on. On they drive back they got more annoying (should have been a clue), they were a bit more intense when I couldn't move around and they seemed to happen more often. But when I got home and made lunch and got Rosalie down for nap, I didn't even notice if they were there or not (my guess is they probably were, but I was busy, and moving around made them less noticeable, so I didn't think about them). I did text Roland to let him know I was having them. I figured that if my false labour was doing some overtime, labour was probably going to start for real in the next few days and that he should probably let someone know at work that it was possible he might not be there tomorrow. I went down for my own nap for about an hour, and then continued on with my day. I didn't feel like making supper, but we had just gotten coupons for Quiznos in the mail, so I drove to go get us some subs for dinner.

(NOTE: In hindsight, I realize how much I really should NOT have been driving, these contractions weren't bad, but really... that was SUPER irresponsible of me)

At about 9:30pm, after Rosalie was in bed and I was just putzing around my house, I started to realize that these contractions may have been getting closer together. I started timing them and between contractions I was texting people to just see about possible arrangements for Rosalie's childcare the following day, should we need it (HA!). At first they were about 15 minutes apart, while I was lying down on my bed, but it confirmed that I was in actual labour and should probably get my butt in gear. I figured I had better do some laundry so I could pack a hospital bag (yeah, THAT is how prepared I was), I should print off my birth plan... but what I mostly did was sit on Facebook. (Smart Annie. Smart.)

Frankly, I didn't want my labour to progress too fast. It would be more convenient if we left for the hospital at a reasonable hour in the morning. Then we wouldn't be inconveniencing anyone too much with dropping off Rosalie, or having someone come over or whatever. So at about 11:30pm, I thought I had better get at least a little sleep before this thing kicks into high gear, and I tried to go to bed (STILL hadn't packed the hospital bag, but at least my laundry was almost done in the dryer), but the first contraction I had, while lying down proved that I would NOT be able to sleep in bed that night. I didn't want to keep Roland up because I couldn't labour quietly and he needed to rest as much as I did, if not more so. So I went and tried to lie on the couch to sleep. I did not sleep. Every contraction (about 5 minutes apart now), I was on all fours in my living room, cat-cowing and wiggling my butt (like that mental image? I'm sure it looked as ridiculous as it sounds). By 12:15am I was starting to go a bit crazy. I figured it was time to try getting into the bath and help alleviate some of the contractions. When I was in labour with Rosalie, I got into the tub at RUH to hopefully progress me to the 4cm of dilation that I needed, so I knew it was possible the tub could progress my labour, but I had also been told that getting into the tub too early could also slow it down. To be honest, I was hoping for the latter. But really, I just wanted the relief. Which I did not get. The initial feeling of my butt hitting the water was almost euphoric, but the next contraction was no easier than my ones prior to getting in the tub. I moved into about a dozen different positions hoping the water would help, but I didn't think it did. So I hopped out of the tub, dried off, flicked on the lights in our bedroom and told Roland to get up and call my mom and help with timing my contractions. At this point they were lasting for about a minute and about 3 minutes apart on average.

So, NOW I started packing the hospital bag... when I only had about 2 minutes of relief during contractions... and I may very well have been clinically insane. I think I got a bra, a pair of underwear, and my PJs into the bag before I basically gave up. My mom showed up shortly after and one look at me and she said "Oh yeah, you're ready" but I kept trying to think of things we needed, and stuff I wanted done, and things I thought my mom should need to know. But at the same time I just wanted to go to the hospital. I just needed to leave. So a few minutes later we were backing out of the driveway.

This is where I started to notice significant differences from my labour with Rosalie. Many of the things I did at home were different from what I tried with Rosalie. I did not get into the bathtub at home with Rosalie, and her labour was (knowingly) far longer. I made muffins, and walked until I wanted to cry because me feet hurt, and hated sitting down because the contractions got so much worse. I think with Rosalie, we went to the hospital because I wanted a change of scenery and I had it in my head that going to the hospital was a progression, so things were moving along. However in actuality, labour is likely to slow down when you leave home. So when we were in the car going to the hospital with her, I probably only had about 4 or 5 contractions from our driveway to the emergency enterence. And I was well aware that they were further apart than when we were at home.

Being in the car this time was agony. I had no room to move around, I had no method of relieving my pain... so I just screamed. And screamed. And SCREAMED. Honestly, there was one point where we were driving through a residential area with the windows down and while I was screaming, I was thinking "I am waking up every single person in a 4 block radius" and I didn't care, I continued to scream as loud as my lungs and vocal cords would allow. When we got to the hospital we didn't drop me off at emergency this time, I felt that was a mistake last time. I figured I would walk from the parking lot, give myself a little more time to progress, I was going to be SO MAD if I got assessed at 3cms. Clearly, in hindsight, I was further along than 3cms, but I was also clinically insane, so... there you have it. I walked from the parking lot. When we walked in the doors of the hospital, there were wheelchairs there and Roland asked if I wanted one, and I said no, I wanted to walk. (Interesting little factoid: At this point I noticed that I was having more pain on one side of my pelvis than the other and I was convinced that it meant that this baby would come out a bit crooked, like Rosalie did. I mentioned this to Roland at the time, but it turned out that was not the case. Baby came out just the way most babies do, nose down) We passed the Information desk, the guy asked if we wanted a wheelchair, but Roland graciously stated I wanted to walk. At this point I was realizing that it was possible I may have been unintentionally pushing a bit during my contractions.

We got to maternal registration at about 2am, I had Roland just give them my info and told him he was going to have to do the talking. I don't even know how much info they got out of him, maybe only a question or two, before I had a contraction and one of the nurses behind the desk said to me "Was that a push?" and I said I thought so, and I was in a wheelchair heading down to Labour & Delivery. I remember that I went into room 4, and the nurse said "lets get these pants off of you" and I was basically out of my pants and up on the bed in one fluid motion. I was SO happy to see that delivery bed. There were already about a half dozen people, aside from us, in the room. I don't know if they were all nurses or what, but by the time I was assessed at 9cms, there were over a dozen. During that assessment, I had a contraction and my waters ruptured (I honestly laugh about this part now, because I may have soaked everyone within a 6 ft radius. I freakin' exploded. My socks got soaked. In my brain now, it was hilarious, at the time, I was just, like... "gross"). I was told not to push, which was terrible, It was basically impossible. They gave me some nitrous oxide, which actually did a lot more than I expected. It just tamed the insane monster. I calmed the heck down. Probably only about 3 minutes later, I got assessed by someone else, told I was at 10cms, and the next contraction, I could push. Hallelujah!

So, there was not time for an epidural. This was the best thing ever that could have happened for me. When we were still at home, I told Roland that I was getting the epidural was soon as they would give it to me. I have always wanted a drug free birth, I tried with Rosalie, but I was so tired that needed sleep more than I needed medication-free, so I got the epidural after about 22 hours of labour. So this was a blessing in some ways. It freakin' hurt, I'm not gunna lie about that. It was BLOODY PAINFUL. But I was able to push more effectively, and within 15 minutes of pushing, my son was born.

Dominic Andrew James Tomyn was born at 2:21am on August 8th, 2014. He weighed 7lbs, 14oz, 20.5 inches long, and was screaming loudly. I barely got a glance of him before he was passed off quickly like a football to the NICU for assessment. I asked one of the nurses if I could hold him, she said that NICU was looking at him and it's best if he just goes straight down there, but begged her, on the verge of tears, to please let me hold him, if only for a minute. She said she would see, but she didn't think so. Fortunately, my little man assessed REALLY well and they let me have a minute...

I do NOT photograph well after labour...

That one minute of holding him was the greatest gift any one could have given me at that moment. I don't think there is any price in the world I wouldn't have paid to get that one minute. And it was a great minute.

The massive amounts of differences in my labours are mind boggling to me. So I went from having a 32 hour labour with Rosalie, to basically, as far as I knew, being in labour for 5 hours with Dominic. I went from being a full week overdue with my daughter, to only 2 days with my son. I went from being over zealous about going to the hospital to almost showing up too late. Medicated vs. non-medicated. Girl vs. Boy. But I wouldn't change anything from either of them. Granted, I would say that Dominic's labour was the better one, but I don't think it would have been the same had I not experienced Rosalie's first.

So welcome Dominic to the world! I hope you all get a chance to meet him at some point! He's a pretty fantastic little guy. :)  <3

The LMP Due Date

Today is the due date that I have been using since finding out that I was pregnant, calculated using the length of my cycle and the last period I had (Ugh, NOT looking forward to getting those back). This is the due date my GP and I have been using, however the Ultrasound Techs decided that I have a later due date, and my OB/GYN uses the other one... so is this my due date? Well, it's my first due date in any case.

I have never had any feelings that I was going to go early, so I am not surprised to have made it to my due date. It seems more like an inevitability than anything else. NOW I can start wondering when baby is going to show up, and after my second due date, then I can seriously expect it to start happening.

But it's still kinda weird. I feel like labour will never happen. I've been through it before, and I know that it does happen, but it feels so weird. This baby I have been growing for 40 weeks will eventually want OUT of me? Weird. All of a sudden, I won't be pregnant anymore? SO strange. And then it is likely I won't be pregnant ever again? CRAZY!

As an aside, I meant to do a whole "I'm-39-weeks-and-I'm-back-from-the-lake-and-I-didn't-have-to-deliver-in-PA!" post... but it didn't happen. I have been less than motivated to do anything lately. Basically, if my calendar has one thing booked into it, I'm tapped out. Yesterday was a prenatal massage (which clearly is the hight of stressful activities ;) ), that was the only thing I did, today was my 40 week doctor's appointment... I don't plan on leaving my house again today.

So if nesting and running around getting things ready is a sign of the baby showing up, it won't be happening soon... however if my boobs leaking at night is, then baby is on the way! (Too much information? I am beyond caring). Seriously, I haven't even packed a hospital bag yet. Figuring that I will do that when I'm in labour... and even then only because I kinda HAVE to...

So... the point of this post is... well, nothing really. I guess verifying that I am still pregnant. Nope, baby is not here yet. But from what I'm told s/he will be soon. Stay Tuned!

Room

To five-year-old Jack, Room is the entire world. It is where he was born and grew up; it's where he lives with his Ma as they learn and read and eat and sleep and play. At night, his Ma shuts him safely in the wardrobe, where he is meant to be asleep when Old Nick visits.

Room is home to Jack, but to Ma, it is the prison where Old Nick has held her captive for seven years. Through determination, ingenuity, and fierce motherly love, Ma has created a life for Jack. But she knows it's not enough...not for her or for him. She devises a bold escape plan, one that relies on her young son's bravery and a lot of luck. What she does not realize is just how unprepared she is for the plan to actually work.

Told entirely in the language of the energetic, pragmatic five-year-old Jack, ROOM is a celebration of resilience and the limitless bond between parent and child, a brilliantly executed novel about what it means to journey from one world to another.


I've noticed that on GoodReads lately, I have been pretty stingy with my 5-star ratings. And to be honest, I think that it's a good thing, I feel that top ratings should be those books I can't stop talking about (like The Rosie Project, seriously, READ IT!), books that are the best of the best. This book is a total 5-star rating (although I will admit, I hovered over the 4-star for a little bit... maybe I'm too stingy? But there is no turning back now. 5 STAR!)

I loved this book because of it's ability to take an absolutely horrifying situation and show how it could be seen as "normal" or "everyday life". When you have experienced nothing else, how you can still gain comfort from consistency and regular day things. How "normal" things would seem scary if all you have known is abnormal. The innocence that is brought to this awful situation is enlightening. It really is an interesting perspective on kids that have actually lived this life. The most recent one being Amanda Berry and her daughter as well as the other 2 women that were kept prisoner in a basement in Cleveland Ohio for several years. I feel that much more awful for that little girl now having read this book. I see how exponentially more difficult being saved would be for her.

Often after I read a book I feel strongly about (either negatively or positively), I read the opposite reviews on GoodReads to see if they change my mind or if I agree with any of them and may alter my opinion. One of the greatest complaints about this book was the language that was used to tell the story. Told from the perspective of Jack, a five-year old, he uses immature grammar and made up words like "meltedy" (for his favourite melted plastic spoon). I found this actually enhanced the story significantly. I felt it made me get that much more into the head of a five year old, and really understand what he was thinking. Had this five year old been using proper adult grammar, something would have been lost. 

Jack's mother is amazing, which is something I can appreciate in a novel. This amazingly creative woman that was able to enhance her son's development with such limited means is a woman to be in awe of. I don't think I could have been nearly as creative if I were in her shoes. I probably would have plopped in front of the TV and rotted my brain as well as my sons. 

I can't say enough good things about this book, but I can't say anymore without giving things away and ruining this book for anyone else who chooses to read it. Seriously pick this one up. You won't regret it.