Have you ever woken up from a dream and wished you could go back to sleep? While I was asleep I was comfortable and pain-free. Waking up, on the other hand, was jarring and painful, the kind of pain that could not be ignored.
I gradually gleaned a synopsis of my condition, though I'm sure it had to be explained to me many times. An artery connecting to my right ovary had ruptured causing extensive internal bleeding. During surgery number one they opened me up horizontally, hip to hip, and removed the ovary in an attempt to stop the bleeding. After another CT scan, they quickly realized that the problem had not been solved, which was when I was life-flighted to the University of Utah hospital. Here, they performed surgery number two and opened me up vertically, sternum to pelvis. They removed all my organs (hence my dad's wise-crack about 'letting it all hang out') filled my abdominal cavity with saline and began pulling out blood clots (one nurse said some were so big that she was pulling them out with her hands). They tied off the ruptured artery near my aorta, and cauterized a bunch of other smaller bleeds as well. When they were pretty sure they'd caught everything, they sat and watched for a long time to make sure there was no other bleeding, and then sewed me back up.
Waking up in the ICU was brutal. I'd just given birth and then had all my guts taken out and then put back in me again. Between the pain and the fact that I couldn't see much because they'd taken my contacts and no one could seem to find my glasses, the whole experience in the ICU feels fuzzy and a lot like a dream. Once I became coherent, they gave me a PCA button (Patient Controlled Analgesia) so I could get instant pain relief whenever I felt pain. This was a game changer. I could push the button every 15 minutes if I needed to. They also fitted these massaging wraps on my legs to keep me from getting blood clots. The thing I remember most about the ICU, however, was aching thirst. I wanted water, ice; anything that could quench the never-ending thirst. My lips, tongue, and throat felt like I'd eaten sand and felt devoid of any moisture at all. The nurses in the ICU allowed me a mouth swab with a sponge on a stick, once every 30 minutes. However, I had a few allies amidst the tyranny of the ICU nurses. My sweet Joe would sneak me an extra mouth swab or two every time the nurses left the room, and my wonderful mother bought some Starburst flavored chap sticks to keep my lips from cracking.
When the intestines and the bowels are removed from the body (which they are obviously not designed to do) they freeze; and by freeze I mean they shut down entirely. So when this happens, you have to wait for several benchmarks to show that they are beginning to function again before you can even think of eating or even drinking anything. The first benchmark is farting. Yep, you read it right. Farting. I don't think I farted in front of my husband for the first two years of our marriage. The second benchmark is a bowel movement. So the fact that these nurses were literally monitoring my body's every output was a little unnerving.
On the other hand it was actually kind of nice that I didn't have to worry about eating. One thing I was constantly worrying about, however, was my little Olivia. Waking up in a different hospital and discovering that your newborn isn't with you was almost unbearable. I wanted to hold her, smell her skin, feed her, and just be a mother to my baby. There was a nurse in the ICU that had a baby of her own. When she found out that I wanted to breastfeed my baby, she went and found a manual breast pump so that I wouldn't lose my milk. This angel nurse helped me pump for 40 minutes (20 on each side) at a time every few hours. My heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for this nurse. Because of what she did I am able to nurse Olivia today.
As Joe sat and held my hand I asked him, "Have you given any more thought to a middle name?"
He knew of course that I was referring to Olivia.
"No," he responded. "What do you think?"
Without a moment's hesitation I responded, "Joy. Her middle name is Joy."
She truly was the joy amidst affliction. She is living proof of the tender mercies of the Lord. Proof that the Lord does not forget us and is aware of our every sorrow, pain, and affliction. I'd been spared. My baby was in good health. I still get a chance to be her mother.
I remember feeling almost a sense of panic when I thought Joe might leave. The poor guy hadn't slept in nearly 48 hours between the birth of Olivia and then all my drama, and there wasn't an ideal place for him to sleep while staying with me in the ICU, yet he wheeled a small chair over by my bedside and held my hand all night. He lovingly calmed my fears and told me that he wasn't going anywhere. I think we are sometimes blessed with moments when we realize just how much we love someone. This was absolutely one of those moments for me. I feel nothing but gratitude to Heavenly Father for blessing me with my Joe. There is no way at 21 years old I could have anticipated what an essential part of my life he would become. Only God could know how much I would need him and how he so perfectly embodies the man I dreamed about my entire adolescent life. He and God continue to give me reasons for my love for him to grow. He is truly the most wonderful blessing in my life.
The other thing I remember was feeling upset that I was going to get behind on my Book of Mormon reading. In the October 2018 General Conference, President Nelson had issued a challenge to the women of the church to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year. Excited about such a challenge, I'd made a reading schedule to determine how many pages I needed to read every day in order to complete the challenge. Joe and I had started over just a week or so before he issued the challenge, so we started on page 30, which meant we needed to read 6 pages a day in order to complete it. Now, only a week later, I knew I'd be behind. Following the prophet is a very sacred privilege for me. I try to never take it lightly or make excuses about the things he asks us to do. I mourned the fact that was already falling behind. After hearing from Joe that this was the case, my sweet mother made sure to bring her scriptures with her to the hospital to read to me and help me stay up with my reading. The sound of her voice reading the word of God to me was such a lifeline and a comfort. As she read, I would occasionally drift in and out of consciousness, but it was always so comforting to know that she was still there and to hear the beautiful words that she read to me.
One of Joe's friends who works for the University came to see me while I was in the ICU. I remember him knocking on the door, coming in and looking at me confused, and then seeing realization dawn on him. Later on he told me he didn't recognize me when he'd first come in the room because I was in pretty rough shape.
I briefly remember getting a sponge bath in the ICU. I was worried about how I'd be able to put on a new gown when I was barely able to move. The nurses told me not to worry. Within thirty seconds they had removed the old gown and replaced it with a fresh clean one and I hadn't even needed to sit up. At a certain point, I remember the nurses telling me that my blood counts had improved enough that as soon as I could get up to go to the bathroom with help, I'd be able to leave the ICU and see my baby again. I'd been flat on my back for about 24 hours thanks to the aid of a catheter and my PCA button. Any movement I'd done was strictly with arms, head and neck. I think at this point I still couldn't grasp the ramifications of all that had happened. All I could think was, "Let's do this."
It wasn't until I tried to stand up that first time, that I really started to understand that I should have died. I really hadn't even seen my own incisions up to that point. Reality quickly set in as I saw this giant centipede of a scar adorned by never-ending staples winding down my stomach and across my lower abdomen. Movement was so grueling, arduous, and taxing that I was tempted to lay back in bed the second I put weight on my feet. I quickly pushed all those thoughts aside, however, when I remembered that I could see Olivia if I just got it over with. I could barely lift my feet, and if it weren't for the two people holding my arms I was sure I would've toppled to the floor, but I somehow managed to shuffle slowly to the toilet several feet from my bed. It felt like someone had filled my stomach with sharp rocks and sewn me shut again. When I sat down, I dreaded the thought of having to go back, but I wasn't about to let anyone know that. How I got back to the bed is still a mystery, but I'll never forget the relief and joy I felt when they told me they'd transfer me down to the surgical floor and Joe was on his way to go pick up Olivia.
Part 5: SSTU
I gradually gleaned a synopsis of my condition, though I'm sure it had to be explained to me many times. An artery connecting to my right ovary had ruptured causing extensive internal bleeding. During surgery number one they opened me up horizontally, hip to hip, and removed the ovary in an attempt to stop the bleeding. After another CT scan, they quickly realized that the problem had not been solved, which was when I was life-flighted to the University of Utah hospital. Here, they performed surgery number two and opened me up vertically, sternum to pelvis. They removed all my organs (hence my dad's wise-crack about 'letting it all hang out') filled my abdominal cavity with saline and began pulling out blood clots (one nurse said some were so big that she was pulling them out with her hands). They tied off the ruptured artery near my aorta, and cauterized a bunch of other smaller bleeds as well. When they were pretty sure they'd caught everything, they sat and watched for a long time to make sure there was no other bleeding, and then sewed me back up.
Waking up in the ICU was brutal. I'd just given birth and then had all my guts taken out and then put back in me again. Between the pain and the fact that I couldn't see much because they'd taken my contacts and no one could seem to find my glasses, the whole experience in the ICU feels fuzzy and a lot like a dream. Once I became coherent, they gave me a PCA button (Patient Controlled Analgesia) so I could get instant pain relief whenever I felt pain. This was a game changer. I could push the button every 15 minutes if I needed to. They also fitted these massaging wraps on my legs to keep me from getting blood clots. The thing I remember most about the ICU, however, was aching thirst. I wanted water, ice; anything that could quench the never-ending thirst. My lips, tongue, and throat felt like I'd eaten sand and felt devoid of any moisture at all. The nurses in the ICU allowed me a mouth swab with a sponge on a stick, once every 30 minutes. However, I had a few allies amidst the tyranny of the ICU nurses. My sweet Joe would sneak me an extra mouth swab or two every time the nurses left the room, and my wonderful mother bought some Starburst flavored chap sticks to keep my lips from cracking.
When the intestines and the bowels are removed from the body (which they are obviously not designed to do) they freeze; and by freeze I mean they shut down entirely. So when this happens, you have to wait for several benchmarks to show that they are beginning to function again before you can even think of eating or even drinking anything. The first benchmark is farting. Yep, you read it right. Farting. I don't think I farted in front of my husband for the first two years of our marriage. The second benchmark is a bowel movement. So the fact that these nurses were literally monitoring my body's every output was a little unnerving.
On the other hand it was actually kind of nice that I didn't have to worry about eating. One thing I was constantly worrying about, however, was my little Olivia. Waking up in a different hospital and discovering that your newborn isn't with you was almost unbearable. I wanted to hold her, smell her skin, feed her, and just be a mother to my baby. There was a nurse in the ICU that had a baby of her own. When she found out that I wanted to breastfeed my baby, she went and found a manual breast pump so that I wouldn't lose my milk. This angel nurse helped me pump for 40 minutes (20 on each side) at a time every few hours. My heart is overwhelmed with gratitude for this nurse. Because of what she did I am able to nurse Olivia today.
As Joe sat and held my hand I asked him, "Have you given any more thought to a middle name?"
He knew of course that I was referring to Olivia.
"No," he responded. "What do you think?"
Without a moment's hesitation I responded, "Joy. Her middle name is Joy."
She truly was the joy amidst affliction. She is living proof of the tender mercies of the Lord. Proof that the Lord does not forget us and is aware of our every sorrow, pain, and affliction. I'd been spared. My baby was in good health. I still get a chance to be her mother.
I remember feeling almost a sense of panic when I thought Joe might leave. The poor guy hadn't slept in nearly 48 hours between the birth of Olivia and then all my drama, and there wasn't an ideal place for him to sleep while staying with me in the ICU, yet he wheeled a small chair over by my bedside and held my hand all night. He lovingly calmed my fears and told me that he wasn't going anywhere. I think we are sometimes blessed with moments when we realize just how much we love someone. This was absolutely one of those moments for me. I feel nothing but gratitude to Heavenly Father for blessing me with my Joe. There is no way at 21 years old I could have anticipated what an essential part of my life he would become. Only God could know how much I would need him and how he so perfectly embodies the man I dreamed about my entire adolescent life. He and God continue to give me reasons for my love for him to grow. He is truly the most wonderful blessing in my life.
The other thing I remember was feeling upset that I was going to get behind on my Book of Mormon reading. In the October 2018 General Conference, President Nelson had issued a challenge to the women of the church to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year. Excited about such a challenge, I'd made a reading schedule to determine how many pages I needed to read every day in order to complete the challenge. Joe and I had started over just a week or so before he issued the challenge, so we started on page 30, which meant we needed to read 6 pages a day in order to complete it. Now, only a week later, I knew I'd be behind. Following the prophet is a very sacred privilege for me. I try to never take it lightly or make excuses about the things he asks us to do. I mourned the fact that was already falling behind. After hearing from Joe that this was the case, my sweet mother made sure to bring her scriptures with her to the hospital to read to me and help me stay up with my reading. The sound of her voice reading the word of God to me was such a lifeline and a comfort. As she read, I would occasionally drift in and out of consciousness, but it was always so comforting to know that she was still there and to hear the beautiful words that she read to me.
One of Joe's friends who works for the University came to see me while I was in the ICU. I remember him knocking on the door, coming in and looking at me confused, and then seeing realization dawn on him. Later on he told me he didn't recognize me when he'd first come in the room because I was in pretty rough shape.
I briefly remember getting a sponge bath in the ICU. I was worried about how I'd be able to put on a new gown when I was barely able to move. The nurses told me not to worry. Within thirty seconds they had removed the old gown and replaced it with a fresh clean one and I hadn't even needed to sit up. At a certain point, I remember the nurses telling me that my blood counts had improved enough that as soon as I could get up to go to the bathroom with help, I'd be able to leave the ICU and see my baby again. I'd been flat on my back for about 24 hours thanks to the aid of a catheter and my PCA button. Any movement I'd done was strictly with arms, head and neck. I think at this point I still couldn't grasp the ramifications of all that had happened. All I could think was, "Let's do this."
It wasn't until I tried to stand up that first time, that I really started to understand that I should have died. I really hadn't even seen my own incisions up to that point. Reality quickly set in as I saw this giant centipede of a scar adorned by never-ending staples winding down my stomach and across my lower abdomen. Movement was so grueling, arduous, and taxing that I was tempted to lay back in bed the second I put weight on my feet. I quickly pushed all those thoughts aside, however, when I remembered that I could see Olivia if I just got it over with. I could barely lift my feet, and if it weren't for the two people holding my arms I was sure I would've toppled to the floor, but I somehow managed to shuffle slowly to the toilet several feet from my bed. It felt like someone had filled my stomach with sharp rocks and sewn me shut again. When I sat down, I dreaded the thought of having to go back, but I wasn't about to let anyone know that. How I got back to the bed is still a mystery, but I'll never forget the relief and joy I felt when they told me they'd transfer me down to the surgical floor and Joe was on his way to go pick up Olivia.
Part 5: SSTU
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