Peek-A-Boo

Some baby laughter to brighten your day and a little bit of kitty for that added sparkle. :)

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(I'll fix the margins later...)

ooh look a video!

oh and did I not mention? She stands now.

This is just a fraction of her new skills. She can balance standing with just one hand on someone or something to support herself. She rolls, she crawls, she sits on her own, she climbs, she pulls up and she's soo close to standing on her own. She's everywhere! She gets frustrated if you expect her to just sit, the girl has the exploring itch! It would be a handful chasing after her even if I hadn't just been cut open and dissected.

We love her so much and everyday she manages to do something else that blows our collective parenting minds.

[should be viewable by everyone now - leave me a comment and let me know if it's not showing up for you..]

Recovery

It's been a week since they did after away with my gallbladder. I'm still sore, but I guess that's to be expected. (Did I tell you that I asked if I could see the gallstones after the surgery? One doctor looked at me a little strange and said that, no, they didn't allow that any more. Something about health and safety.. contamination something or other... the other doctor just shook his head and told me I wouldn't want to see it.) Mark was allowed five days of dependant leave to stay home and take care of me and the babybear. Luckily, he has the kind of job that allows him a certain degree of flexibility and he's been able to work from home the rest of this week. We're hoping that if I take it easy this weekend it will be okay for him to go back to work on Monday.

I'm doing pretty well. The pain isn't too bad, so a couple paracetamol every now and then seem to be doing the trick, nothing stronger required. (Which is great because the co-codamol dosage they had me on makes me itch!) It mostly hurts when I've been sitting for a while and I decide to get up... insides getting all squished up and complaining I guess. The bruising is still evident but it's only one set of the stitches that gives me any grief. They checked everything over on Tuesday and I'll be going back to the Treatment Room on Saturday to have them glance over everything again just to make sure things are healing properly. The big reason Mark needs to be home is baby lifting. I can hold her to a degree but I can't pick her up and carrying her up the stairs is a big off-limits. It's frustrating standing at the bottom calling up to him, "We need up the stairs!" but that's why he's home and if I were to try, I'd probably be in a lot more pain. I just have to remember to be patient and give my body time. From pregnancy to post-natal recovery, to gallstones to laparoscopic cholecystectomys, it feels like forever since my body has been whole. I feel squidgy, out of shape, weak and blah. I actually have these mini-fantasies where I'm at the gym. Me. Dreaming of the gym. Yup. Hell has frozen over. :)

I'm sure my liver and and my stomach are both looking at each other now with confused expressions. I don't think they like each other. At least not yet anyway. From what I've read it might take at least three weeks for them to decide to be friends. At least it seems that all the gas they pumped into me during surgery is gone and my midsection doesn't look or feel so much like a balloon!

A Gallbladder eviction.

Bright and early Thursday morning, Mark, Baby and I packed up and headed over to the hospital. I checked in at admissions and up to level H we went. It was nice to see that everyone was expecting me. The nurse at the desk looked up when we came in and asked if I was Rebecca. (Good start!) They'd arranged a single room for me but it wasn't available yet so they put us in a four bed room that was empty. (Works for me.)

The next couple hours were spent with various nurses and doctors coming and going and asking pretty much the same questions over and over again. (That's okay with me too. I'd rather answer the same question 10 times then have someone accidentally amputate my leg.) Around 10am they brought me a gown, stabbed me with an anticoagulant and gave me a few minutes to say goodbye to babybear and hubby.

My paranoid nature made us take a couple pictures incase I didn't come back.

Jessie was a bit fussy at this point but by the time they came to wheel me away she was completely asleep in her Daddy's arms and I knew they were going to be okay without me for a little while. It made it so much eas

ier for me to relax and let them take me away.

Waiting in a bed in pre-op. More repeated questions. I finally meet the anaesthetist. I'd met his nurse earlier but this was the first time I'd gotten to speak to the man in charge of drugging me up. (Can't say I was impressed.) He says he hears that I'm 6 months post-partum and asks if I'm still breastfeeding. I nod. He asks how long I intend to breastfeed for and if I'd like to stop now. (Stop now? Seriously? Yes. I'm going to make the baby go cold-turkey and all these questions about when I can feed her again were just for my amusement.) At first I'm a little dazed but I know my facts and I tell him that we plan on breastfeeding for a year. He looks a little confused and tries telling me that you're only supposed to breastfeed for 6 months. The student doctor next to him nods and faithfully agrees that he thought it was 6 months as well. I stand my ground and tell him that the World Health Organization's guidelines say that you should breastfeed for at least a year. He counters by telling me that the quality of breast milk is pretty rubbish after 6 months. (Where in the world did this man go to medical school? Why, if babies cannot drink cow's milk before a year would breastmilk stop being good enough for them at 6 months. Did formula companies design the intestine of a baby? I don't think so.) I

think it ended with us both passively agreeing that the other was wrong and he told me that I should be fine to breastfeed again within 48 hours. On with the drugging.

They got the cannula in the back of my hand on the first try (yaay!) and then tried to have a conversation with me whilst pumping me full of drugs. I don't think it was a very coherent conversation but I'm sure they're used to that sort of thing. I woke up a couple hours later with all my limbs intact. I was in pain but a nice lady whose face I don't remember kept adding morphine to my drip. I approved.

An unspecified amount of time later (I didn't exactly have a watch) I was wheeled back to the ward. I faintly remember the nurse telling me that they were having a problem with the plumbing in my room so I was going into a room with another lady for a little while but that they'd have me in a single room as soon as they got it fixed. The little old lady in the room sounded so happy when I was wheeled in. She was saying something along the lines of finally having someone to talk to. Sadly I left my oxygen mask and mp3 player on and stayed in my own little world until Mark and Jessica arrived. Despite it not being visiting hours they were shown in and allowed to stay with me. I don't think it was long until the plumbing got sorted and we were shuffled off to our own room. Little old lady was sad to see me (and now adorable baby) leave and said as much.

Another nurse came in and said that they'd been to talk to the midwives and that they were completely happy for me to start breastfeeding again as soon as I wanted. Apparently they give the same general anaesthesia and pain medication to c-section patients who go o

n to breastfeed immediately. Mark and I decided that we'd use the expressed milk in the freezer for the first 24 hours and then go back to breastfeeding - which was a great result all around since we only actually own 3 bottles!

Time moved on in that odd post surgery hazy way it's wont to do and Mark took Jessica home. Every time I fell asleep the hospital staff set their watches and then crashed something, turned on a light or came in for a chat every two hours just to make sure I wasn't getting any sleep. I can't imagine how hard it must be to sleep in a room you have to share with 3 other people.

Eventually morning dawns. A very EARLY morning. Painkillers at 6am (appreciated) breakfast at 7am (not appreciated.) Salty porridge with an extra packet of salt incase it wasn't salty enough. Yum. I had a roll with some butter instead.

Shower. Wound check. More painkillers. Mark and Jessica arrive around 11am. I realize just how much I missed the babybear. Mark sits her on the bed infront of me and I give her my hands. She immediately pulls to standing. The girl is amazing!

Now we wait. I'm clear to go home but we have to wait for the pharmacy to send up my prescription. We were warned days ago that this is often the longest part of the discharge process. My super sweet nurse even hurried them along a few times, actually volunteering to send someone down to collect the pills from them. There's a few other bits some of you might find vaguely interesting like when a smelly doctor I didn't know, showed up and tried to extract some blood from me without knowing who I was or why I was there and only succeeded in putting three more holes in the back of my hand, but it's late. I'm tired. And I'm tired of saving this post to finish later. So... I made it out alive, I'm rather sore, I'm still trying to figure out what I can and can't eat now and I can't quite pick up the babybear yet but we're getting there. I'll see if I can get Mark to write something up about how Daddy and Daughter bonding night went later. :)