When I got home from the hospital after having Katie, we hit the ground running. The kids had a week left of summer before school began, so they all had their special time with their new baby sister. She was an even keeled baby to start! She took right to breastfeeding and would drift right off to sleep after eating during the night. I definitely fell asleep sitting up in bed feeding her more times than I’d like to admit, but we survived the early weeks without any major problems with her. 

Zach unfortunately got poison ivy all over him a few days in and had to take a steroid, so he was all hopped up. He was also afraid to touch Katie with bare hands in case he spread it to her, which I didn’t think he could, but he got paranoid about it. Needless to say, I was holding her a lot. He also went on a Lego buying bender. Every day, new sets of Legos from eBay came in the mail. I was like, where the hell are we going to put all these Legos?! Note to self, if Zach has to take steroids, do not let him go on eBay.  It didn’t help matters either that I got an infection in my arm where my IV was. One afternoon the first week home, we went to the pool. Zach took the big ones in and I sat inside with my parents. I began to cry and told them that I really was not feeling right. I felt feverish and more fatigued rather than feeling like I was improving. I had this awful soreness in my arm just above where my IV had been and there was a hard ball like lump. I showed my Dad. “Jesus, you have an infection.” Cool! Nothing some antibiotics couldn’t fix, but damn, I felt pretty awful pretty quick from that.

The big kids went off to school pretty seamlessly. We even brought Katie to their first day drop off. It was so fun hearing the teachers and other students make a fuss over her. Once the big ones started school, Peter very much enjoyed living like a postpartum Mom…a lot of baby snuggles, snacks, TV, and lying around for him.

After the first two weeks, some nerve pain settled in. I knew it would happen. It’s happened each time for me. After the adrenaline and drugs from delivery wear off completely, the pain sets in. The nerve pain was WICKED this time and lasted longer. I was stitched near my urethra, so using the bathroom was no picnic for at least the first 8 weeks, but even that wasn’t so bad. When my nerves regenerated there, oh, boy they came back with a vengeance. The pain would come and go and it was totally unpredictable when it would come. Like it would shock me and I’d double over in pain. So I’d be fine and then randomly I’d feel like someone was stabbing me in my pelvic area. It made me feel so depressed. I just felt awful all the time.

Peter was having trouble settling for bed at night around this time too. I think it was a combination of adjusting to a new baby and he was having tonsil issues too. He had a sleep study in October and they diagnosed what I had been saying for a year, “Oh yeah, he has bad sleep apnea and needs his tonsils out.”

I feel like from September-December I would lay with him almost every night. There were a few nights I’d lie there and cry from the nerve pain. It’s silly to think, because I knew it took time. This wasn’t my first go of it, but I couldn’t help wanting to feel better immediately. I thought maybe the “bounce” back would be even easier, but I only set myself up for disappointment. There were some nights Katie would scream, so I’d get upset and take her from Zach. I’d nurse her while lying next to Peter in his bed and hold back tears from nerve pain. And then, I’d get up the next day, get the kids ready for school and do it all again. 

On a funnier note, constipation was rough this time because as per usual I was dehydrated. I know what you’re thinking, but Kate, constipation? That shits not funny! Well, in the spirit of being honest, let me set the scene because it was rather funny.

One night I took a laxative and let’s just say I had a blow out. Words of wisdom, DO NOT take a laxative if you have postpartum constipation, especially after having a few babies. Those muscles are NOT prepared for that. Probably didn’t need to reveal that to the world, but if you’re a new mom or experienced mom who has shat themselves, just know you are not alone. 

I had been feeling HORRIBLE all day with stomach pain. I took a Dulcolax thinking, oh yeah, this will get me going. In the evening, after the big kids were in bed, I was feeding Katie on the sofa. Zach was next to me watching TV. Suddenly, the most horrendous feeling overcame me.

“Um, I gotta go to the bathroom right now,” I said to Zach and I stood up. Katie was still nursing.

“Okay, hand me the baby,” he said.

The feeling was so unnerving that I didn’t have time to hand her to him. I just started to walk.

I said “No, forget it. I can’t.” She continued nursing and I gingerly walked towards the stairs. I was still wearing giant pads and the situation there wasn’t yet copasetic as it were to begin with. I thought if I made any SUDDEN movements some UNWANTED movements would occur.

“Here, let me take her,” Zach said as he followed close behind me. 

As I turned the corner, so did my luck. 

I put one foot on the step. “DON’T FOLLOW ME!” I shouted. 

I couldn’t control myself. I walked up the stairs to our bathroom and, let’s just say, by the time I got there all was lost.

“Oh my God,” I said to myself. I placed Katie safely on the bathroom floor away from me. 

“TAKE THIS BABY FROM ME. AND PLEASE, GET ME A TRASH BAG,” I yelled down to Zach. 

He came up and cracked the door open. I was behind the door.

“Leave the bag, take the baby. Don’t look at me!” 

He did as he was instructed. I unraveled. It was a massacre. I don’t even think I cried. I just laughed at myself. Needless to say my stomach felt a hell of a lot better. My dignity, not so much. 

I got thoroughly cleaned up. Like, it took a while, I wasn’t trying to get any bacteria in my already vulnerable area. For weeks after that, I was convinced I was going to get an infection.

I went back downstairs. Zach handed me Katie. We didn’t speak of it. We carried on the rest of the evening as if nothing happened. You may be gagging because of disgust or gagging because of laughter, hopefully the latter! 

The holidays brought a few challenges outside of having an infant. My Dad’s back began to get worse pretty quickly due to spinal stenosis and it was decided he needed back surgery. One of the hardest parts of getting older is seeing my parents in vulnerable positions. My Dad is a strong guy. He’s always been able to do/lift anything and never takes days off, so seeing him struggle with his back was hard. I felt bad for my Mom too, the caretaker. She looked exhausted from picking up the slack and trying to help Dad. My worry for them both coincided with postpartum hormones, it was a tough mix. 

His surgery was scheduled for just before Thanksgiving. The night he was being operated on, I went to the hospital with my aunt Clare. We sat in the lobby with my Mom. We talked and laughed a lot. Laughter is often a good mechanism for my Mom’s family to get through the worrisome times. I can remember I was so tired my eyes burned. My Mom insisted I stay home because Katie was just 3 months old and exclusively breastfeeding. Burning eyes and a swollen chest wouldn’t keep me from being by my Mom’s side when she needed the company. Doesn’t matter how routine or how positive the predictions, surgery of any kind is scary. I can imagine it’s even scarier when you’re of a certain age and when you’re medically minded and know all the worst case scenarios. My aunt Clare and I stayed with my Mom for a while. Soon after we had left, we heard the surgery went well.  

The next day I was on the phone with them. Dad was on his laptop doing charts. Can’t stop the working man.  Doctors aren’t very good at being patients.

They had asked me to pick up some mushrooms for a Thanksgiving dish, so I went to the grocery store with Peter, while Zach was home with the other 3. We were rushing through the aisles so I could get back before Katie woke up from her nap. I remember I turned down an aisle that the mushrooms were in and suddenly I couldn’t see clearly out of my right eye. It was kind of like a jagged flash of light distorting my vision. My heart began to race, my breathing shallowed. I felt a cold sweat come over me. What in the hell, was I going blind?! Was I having a stroke? I said to Peter we needed to leave. I rushed him back to the car, my vision was still distorted. When I began to drive, I went slow. The light began to move to the outer edge of my eye. When I got home, I was freaking out. I didn’t know who else to call other than my Dad. Fresh out of surgery, he was giving me medical advice. 

“Oh, that’s just an ocular migraine. I used to get those in my 30s. Just lie down and close your eyes for a little bit. It will pass.”

I had never had that happen to me before. It was the strangest sensation. I didn’t even have a headache. But, after some rest, it did pass. In retrospect, it was a physical manifestation of the stress I was under. It was wild! I don’t think stress ever affected my vision that way. Broken body, broken sleep, a hungry little baby draining me dry, 3 other kids and a husband needing me to be at the top of my game, and my worry for my parents at an all time high. Perfect storm for an ocular migraine! I couldn’t help feeling like a failure. I was happy and having fun, and, yet, I felt like I couldn’t hold it together some days. I was depleted to the max.

Thanksgiving came and my parents stayed home for it while the rest of us went to my brother’s house. They were depressed about not being at the actual event. I too was sad they missed Katie’s first Thanksgiving dinner. It was weird. I felt grateful though that they were just nearby and we were all able to check in on them as needed.

Early December, Peter was scheduled to get his tonsils removed. Zach, Katie and I took him to his visit. Poor Peter, he has had some doozies with breathing difficulties. He had been doing well with asthma like instances on his steroid inhaler, but his large tonsils and adenoids were causing sleep apnea. I had very high hopes that getting his tonsils shaved and adenoids removed would only further help in solving his breathing difficulties. I felt so anxious for him. We sat with him and tried to explain what was going to happen. They gave him what they call “giggle juice,” so he was calm when they took him away. I’ll never forget his little face as he said good bye to us. I felt so awful. It’s the worst when they encounter something that you cannot fix. I know I made the efforts to get him the help he needs, so that’s good on me, but still. It’s just tragic when they have to do something so big on their own. And Peter has had more of those instances than his siblings. Thankfully, it was super quick and he was the bravest boy and in the long run it has helped him tremendously.

After the surgery, we waited in the room until he came out of his “giggle juice” stupor. Katie was as pleasant as could be sitting in my lap the whole time. As I sat there, I thought man this room smells so bad. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why it smelled. I figured, ya know, hospitals have weird smells. Oh, well. When he was good to go, we helped him change and got him home.

After we got home, I was sitting with him and Katie on the sofa and I said, “It’s so weird, I still smell that awful smell from the hospital. Must be stuck in my nose.” I said to Zach, “Did you smell that? His room smelled like dirty feet. It was awful!” Zach looked at me funny, “That’s weird. I didn’t smell anything at all.” Which, didn’t surprise me much, I tend to pay more attention to smells than Zach.

Katie began to fuss, so I got up to change her diaper and her outfit. I lifted her arm to pull it out of the sleeve, and omg, the smell was horrific when I lifted her arm. It was red, and raw, and like flaky skin. Of course, I immediately FaceTimed my parents.

“Oh poor thing! That’s a yeast infection,” my Mom said right away.

OMG, I am the worst Mom ever. Sitting with a baby with a stinky armpit thinking it’s the hospital that smells and all the while it’s my cute little baby! I cried to Zach. “I’ve been walking around all day with a stinky ass baby! The poor thing has yeast in her armpit. I’m a terrible Mom!” Ultimately, we had a good laugh about it. I’m sure I would haven noticed it if my mind wasn’t laser focused on Peter. For any Moms who have baby’s with yeasty armpits, I made sure to dry her completely after baths and used Aquaphor under there. Worked well.

By the holidays, most of my physical pain I had was beginning to subside thank God. I even scheduled an early visit (4 weeks out) to get checked because I was convinced I had a UTI.

“Oh, you are healing beautifully. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful healing wound. The pain just means it’s getting better.”

I hate when they say that, but it did turn out to be true. Speaking of postpartum visits, real quick, I know I have said this before but it deserves to be repeated, IT IS INSANITY THAT ALL WE GET AS POSTPARTUM MOMS IS ONE VISIT 6 WEEKS OUT. Totally disgraceful. We should be on a new mom check up schedule just like babies. No matter how many times you go through it. We should be checked both body and mind at regular intervals the ENTIRE FIRST YEAR JUST LIKE THE BABY.

Anyway, stay tuned for “4th Trimester, 4th Time – Winter.”