Postpartum Haze

...I woke up in a sterile white room. My mind may or may not have played a role in the interpretation of what I saw as I awoke from my induced sleep. I remember feeling completely lost. I couldn't really speak, my throat hurt so badly. I looked over to the corner of the room and saw my husband; black hood over his head, looking into his phone in silence. The room seemed so extremely quiet and unreal. I had no clue what had happened or how I got there; it was a staunch difference from the chaos of the operating room that I last remember.

The nurse came in and spoke to me; I don't remember what she said. I just remember wondering why my throat hurt so badly. I think she asked if I wanted some water but don't recall my response. I just remember her putting Chapstick on me, for which I was so grateful. Her eyes expressed what her mouth couldn't... pity and amazement. She pitied me [I'm assuming] because I was a woman that came into the hospital to have my twin babies and now I was post-op as a result of an emergency hysterectomy. Yes, there is always a risk in childbirth, but I (as well as most other women) went into this experience feeling confident in the fact that the only concern would be the subsequent healing that would ensue as a direct result of giving birth. But there I was, in great pain; unable to move or speak, swollen from head-to-toe.

 I also remember the doctor coming to see me. I'm ashamed to say that it never really occurred to me that I hadn't seen my newborn daughters, outside of the quick flash in the operating room... I couldn't process much at this point, but I did know that I was grateful to be alive. 

There weren't any white lights that flashed before my eyes during any of this. I didn't journey down a tunnel. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes. However, I DO recall feeling an immense sense of calm. I remember a certain peace befalling me in the moments just before the anesthesia kicked in... I was going to be okay simply because I knew in my heart that I was loved and that those I love KNOW how much I care. I can also explain my brush with death as feeling [in hindsight] like a dream you don't remember... after the darkness came, I can recall a knowing that I saw something or someone; yet the vision/remembrance is just out of my reach.
Sorry, I digressed.

My husband told me that the doctors were surprised with how well I was doing considering how much blood I had lost (8 liters total). They had every intention of keeping me unconscious for 24-hours and putting me in the ICU for the sake of healing; but apparently, they hadn't considered that I'm a fucking rock-star! *wink* So, I ended up waking up on my own, that evening, and going back to my labor and delivery room.

 Again, the timeline is completely hazy, but I do know that there was a lot going on that day... The day I gave birth to my daughters/ the day I almost died. [It still blows my mind to think about the reality behind that statement; the fact that I came so close to death and fought my way back.]

I'm going to end this story around here because otherwise I will turn this short-story into a long novel and I'm sure you have better things to do. Yet and again, this is not where the story ends, nor is it where it began... You'll have to stay-tuned for that. But rest assured, there are no dull moments.

Remember while reading this and all else related... I was a lucky one. Not everyone is able to speak for themselves about Maternal Mortality. This is simply my attempt to shine a light on something that might be otherwise overlooked. You are NOT alone regardless of what you might be experiencing in your life. Never be afraid to share, so that others may do the same. 



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