A Baby Story, Part 14: Anti-climactic Ending

The fact that the blood patch hadn't worked was extremely frustrating and disheartening. I had had what I can only describe as a "bad feeling" (for no particular reason...just a gut feeling-ish) about the blood patch from the beginning, but I'd felt somewhat pressured by the medical community (or at least the part of the medical community that was caring for me) to have it done. And, I think I'd talked myself into believing it would immediately and completely erase my pain. When it didn't, that was a hard blow.

I was very discouraged but realized that there wasn't anything else I could do about it. I didn't realize how discouraged I was until I woke up talking about the blood patch one night. Because of all the pain medication I was on, I found myself waking up disoriented more often than not. So, the night after the blood patch, I woke myself and Brad up by crying and begging him not to make me get another blood patch. Poor Brad... He reassured me that he had no intention of doing so. I then fully woke up and felt a little silly.

Thankfully, after that, the last little bit of time left in the hospital was fairly uneventful. I continued to deal with my headache the same ways I had been: flat-on-back and lots of caffeine. Getting a taddy bit more sleep probably would have been nice, but middle-of-the-night feedings kept that from happening. #newparentsprobs? (I don't know if that's a thing...I don't tweet. Not cool enough.)

Because the anesthesiologist who performed the blood patch procedure had been so confident that it had been successful, the doctors in the pain clinic were flummoxed by the fact that it hadn't. Yet another anesthesiologist came to talk with me about what was going on. It was a disjointed and confusing conversation, but what it boiled down to was that it should have worked and nobody knew why it didn't. The only "answer" anyone had is that I have a "difficult anatomy." Isn't that such a comforting thought? He also recommended that I have another blood patch done. Ha. Yeah, right.

My parents came every day to visit and also made sure that our apartment was stocked and ready for us when we went home. Such a blessing. I was growing very weary of the hospital and just wanted to go home with my family. I had the option of going home on Saturday (rather than waiting out the full amount of time and going home on Sunday), but after the failed blood patch, I reluctantly agreed with Brad and my parents that I should take the extra day.

On Sunday, I was discharged shortly after lunch (I was prepared to have to wait for a really long time to be discharged), and Brad thoughtfully prepared the car for me by lowering the front seat back as far as it would go, to accommodate my persistent headache (which eventually dissipated about two days later and morphed into a dull ache...I'm actually still dealing with headaches, although they are sooo much less of a difficulty). Our apartment is only about a mile from the hospital, which is a blessing, so I didn't have far to travel, and when we got home, I was able to crash on the couch for the rest of the day.

Finally, I was back at home. With my baby.

It's rather an anti-climactic ending to a generally dramatic story, but I'm not complaining. In the time that has elapsed since the hospital, I've been able to reflect quite a bit on the wonderful blessings we experienced and some of the kind people we met. As I've spent the past two weeks recalling the difficulties, I'll definitely plan to post about some of those happy stories, too. I'm am equal opportunity blogger. :)

Many thanks to those of you who have read, commented, and encouraged me through messages, emails, and cards over the past few weeks. It has been a blessing to hear from friends and acquaintances; I'm so thankful for your kindness and compassion. Now, I plan to provide you with lots of happies to make up for the traumatic. Thank you, friends.