A small success in an otherwise AWFUL situation.
We both made it through the night. At this point, I was thanking God for small miracles. The nurses overnight were nice - they'd let me listen to her heartbeat on the doppler whenever I wanted. They were surprised they could find it on the monitors as well. Most of the time, they said, it's hard to find on the monitors until at least 24-26 weeks. I took that as a sign. Her heart was too big, beating too loudly, to be silenced just yet.
Perinate Doc F came in that morning. Ok, the surgery was a go. Just pray that my water didn't break during surgery. If it did, I would probably never get to see my girl. We called in yet another chaplin to pray over us. Please God, let this work. Please give her a chance. And I was rolled down the hall.
I don't remember being in the recovery room, other than this excruciating pain and not being able to breath. You know that Bill Cosby joke about childbirth being like taking your bottom lip and pulling if over your head? Well, that's what I felt like happened. Come to find out that Doc F really had to work some magic to get the cerclage in successfully. There was little, if any, cervix to work with. But she did it. I hated her Saturday, and I loved her today.
I had a hard time breathing all day and night. After dealing with a rookie (aka pretty crappy) nurse that night, we discovered that my throat was incredibly swollen. My epiglottis felt like it was the size of a nickel. If I lay wrong, it occluded my airway. Joy. At least I knew there was something going on - it just wasn't a crazy mom a tthe end of her rope.
I spent the rest of the day just lying there, trying to make the time and days pass quickly. So I slept a lot. And I could sleep (partially thanks to meds) since I was now lying flat! Not inverted anymore! Again, small miracles. I never thought we'd get here.
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