No, I didn't expect to be in the hospital recovering from surgery on Halloween, but that's just where I was. Above
Lili and I are pictured all dressed up for Halloween. In case you cannot tell, she was a gorgeous little sleeping pumpkin. I was obviously a scary, naked lady who hadn't showered in a week... wait, that wasn't a costume unfortunately.
So to re-cap... my hopeful attitude after last Monday's boob eruption was not rewarded with a miraculous recovery. Instead when we returned to hospital on Wednesday, Dr
Eleri stabbed me with a giant needle a couple of times for posterity, then declared that that obviously wasn't doing the trick. I was going to need another surgery... just when things were starting to get back to normal after my c-section. Boo-
hoo.
After being starved for several hours (that's the medical term, not just my being overly dramatic), I was taken into the operating theatre on Wednesday evening. Prior to the surgery, I met my surgeon, Nathan. I'm sure he has a surname, but he only introduced himself as Nathan (which incidentally would have been Lili's name had she been a boy). I have to admit that Nathan was absolutely dreamy. He was so calming and pleasant that one would feel reassured if the worst news in the world were delivered in his soft, soothing voice. Just lovely. He apologised in advance for the scar he would leave, but I reassured him that I only wanted relief and that my boobs really weren't my best feature anyway. George ever so helpfully quipped (after the fact), "It's not like painting a moustache on the
Mona Lisa." Nice, right?
After the surgery I was in a lot of pain. No need to write about it really, but it obviously wasn't nice. The morphine they gave me also made me sick and extremely itchy. I don't recommend the morphine. My stay in the hospital was so lengthy because I just couldn't get on top of the pain. For the first couple of days post-surgically, I couldn't even get out of bed. Who would have thought such excruciating pain could radiate from such a small breast? I described the pain (upon trying to stand upright) as scorching hot and bright yellow. That's the best I can do.
The surgeons all told me to just remain supine until the inflammation abated, and I was quite content to follow doctor's orders, but on the evening of the second day, I had a proper midwife intervention.
Sian, Louise and Julie, my three angels, came in to give me a dose of tough love. "Right," Julie said trilling her
r's, "We're gonna dose you up with pain killers and get you out of this bed. I don't care what the doctors say. We're not having you develop a blood clot in your legs..." And that's just what those three did. "You can curse me when I leave the room if you want," said Julie, "But I would be doing the very same thing if you were my own daughter."
I got up, cheered on my Louise who kept shouting, "Come on now, cup your boob!! Cup your boob! Give it some support!" I got up, and I felt euphoric... and a wee bit shaky. Funny how such a small accomplishment as standing and taking a few steps turned into such a huge victory there in that ugly peach colored hospital room. I was on my feet! Hooray.
I still wasn't ready to come home and give up the nurse call button and the hospital-grade pain killers. Because, as a breastfeeding mother, I had to keep
Lili in the room with me at all times, I was given a bed on the post-natal ward rather than the surgical ward, and while I was there, those midwives became my family. I cannot describe how wonderful their care was. They did all of the things for me that I couldn't do for myself... and that amounted to nearly everything.
I haven't yet mentioned
Lili, who honestly has probably benefited from all of this drama. My friend
Lowri, who is a midwife at Royal Glam Hospital helped look after me one day and remarked, "What a lucky girl! How many third babies get to have all this uninterrupted one-on-one time with their mums?" This is true... Six days in hospital with no television or other distractions meant that nearly all of my attention was focused on that gorgeous little girl.
Lili didn't suffer a bit, and honestly having her to care for and cwtch up with kept me sane. What a lovely little thing she is! "Nosy Parker" was the nickname all of the midwives gave her because she is so alert and curious, constantly looking about everywhere (unlike the newborns they are accustomed to).
Obviously I have had some rather dark moments in the last week . Having the wound packed and dressed on a daily basis has not been a treat. The pain has also been extremely trying but improves a bit each day. On the last day I was in the hospital the lead breast consultant came in and reduced me to tears when he basically said that the healing process was going to be extremely slow since I am
determined to carry on with this breastfeeding nonsense. I agree with the district nurse who came to see me today and re-dress my wound. She said, "Let's prove him wrong, shall we?" Yes indeed! Please continue to keep me in your prayers. I need some serious healing right now so that I can begin
fully enjoying being a mother of three!
(Above) Sophie & Emma still enjoyed Halloween at home with Dad.
They carved several of the pumpkins that we grew in our garden.
Never mind that several of our pumpkins stayed green... not enough warmth & sunshine to turn pumpkins orange in Wales!
Green pumpkins are unique... much like those girls.
Not much to write about today; just thought I'd post a semi-smiley photo of the Lili monster. For a few weeks it seemed I had her internal clock sorted, but for the past week, she's been back to her old, wicked, Carson ways... up at all hours of the night. Mind you, she isn't unpleasant, just awake and eager for company. Last night at around midnight I took her downstairs to George and handed her (wide awake and grinning) over to him: "Here, you two deserve each other!" I said. 
