left overs…

My doctor starts by what sounds like a defensive speech… and who is she defending? Her colleague, Dr. Jenny…for what you ask? It sounds like she is “apologizing” (more like making excuses) for Dr. Jenny leaving placenta inside me. Now wait just a dang minute…I thought I had a uterus infection (what they call an emdomitri something and sounds just like some other diagnosis but isn’t…confused? So am I). I just want to stop her, tell her what the team of doctors just told me, but on the other hand, I really want to hear her out. What does this mean exactly? Was there placenta left in me or not? Or do I have some small pieces of placenta stuck in my uterus AND an infection, or an infection because of the placenta? Lots of circular thoughts going on here, not really arriving anywhere and I don’t want to ask her for clarification simply because I want to hear her explanation about what went wrong. I have a right to know why I’m so sick- at least I thought that was every patient’s right before I started this journey. My doctor tells me that since my placenta completely ruptured it was really hard for the doctor delivering it (yes it’s called “delivering the placenta” just like “delivering the baby”, just a lot more gross) to clean out all the pieces. She worked on it for a long time (yes, she did, I was there…remember?) and really thought she had gotten it all out. Now, it is important to realize that I don’t blame Dr. Jenny, not really, she was the one breaking the rest of my water after all, and it really did seem like she was working hard there after our baby was delivered. What with the meconium (poopy water), the umbilical cord falling apart, the baby being rushed to the NICU and the gals (waiting for some core blood as part of the welcoming committee in between my legs…the more the merrier…no, really) getting really disappointed about (yes you remember) the ruptured placenta; which they were to their defense going to use for life saving purposes (I was disappointed too, it would have been rather nice and poetic if my baby and I could have saved someone else after everything we had been through). Anyways, my doc seems pretty convinced that she is defending her colleague for the right thing here; saying that it is extremely difficult to know if they get all the smaller pieces out (well, I guess I should be grateful that they got the rags out that they used to soak up the blood- I did see/hear them count those…no I’m not bitter, again, just confused). I am brought back to reality by the doctor’s laugh (reliving the delivery is still too fresh in my mind not to physically hurt even though I’m more than thankful for the blessing and miracle that is my tiny baby girl) saying that we should be relieved no bigger pieces were left and that because of that “we” avoided surgery. I agree even if I can’t laugh with her. She brings up the fact that she did worry about the fever I had the night before being released and my way too tender tummy (instead of the fact that despite being my main doctor she could not find the rest of my bag of water hence letting me labor for over 30 hours-32 plus-probably about 29 hours more than I had to). Her voice is still comforting somehow however and when I ask her if this is the diagnosis (despite the team having brought me a different one mere seconds ago- wow they change their minds quite quickly here) she tells me that it is; leftover scraps and tiny pieces of placenta (nice sounding, I know…I should have capsuled that to go instead…). I thank her and hang up. After another tuna sandwich (hey, when I find something I like, I tend to stick to it) and some more bad TV (“The Little Couple”, strangely relatable) and some more pumping, I talk to my mom who seems to think that Endometritis (was that my diagnosis or the other one with the similar name…?) and left over placenta (no doggie bag please…sorry, couldn’t help myself) are simply the same thing. While I mull that over, the NICU calls to tell me that my baby needs me (oh, that is touching a mama nerve for sure). I press the call button for a nurse and this time they are not refusing me to go down to see my baby. Once I’m back in the NICU (having major shaking flash backs) the nurses by my baby’s station (lucky number 13) seem angry…

About jennym

A doctor of psychology and a mother of three writing about the struggles and joys and the ups and downs of motherhood, marriage, pregnancies, deliveries and her absolute love for her children in a humoristic yet down to earth weekly blog!

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